The Night I Turned into a Metal Spoon

Singing as the Darkness Lifts, Episode 29: The Night I Turned into a Metal Spoon

 Podbean Link for those who like to listen

This morning the air smells clean and fresh, it is raining and there is no hint of petrichor. I smile because although I am not totally specific about the smell my senses are alive.

 

Last week I could not determine the scent and I blamed the cold virus for affecting my sense of smell. I also now blame it for turning me into a metal spoon during the week. It was an interesting dream and wonderfully vivid... temporarily I was a human-sized spoon heading for the centre of the earth. Sometimes when I wake up after a dream the images disappear quite rapidly, but I can definitely still picture this one! Perhaps the way my head concaved into the bowl of the spoon might make its way into a poem. It might be a good prose poem!

 

So the week started at a slow pace because I had to wait for the sneezing to stop and then unsnuffle myself. I loved it when my sister rang and asked me if I was resting and staying hydrated because that’s what I always tell her to do when she is under the weather. It was lovely to hear my advice in a different voice and I did indeed follow it. If you listened to last week’s blog you probably noticed I was a bit snuffly, but I decided I still wanted to set it down because I wanted to remain committed to what I had planned to do with the blog and podcast. It feels important to me right now to be a completer!

 

I enjoyed regaining my sense of taste and smell and it reminded me of the strange things that happened to my senses after I had covid. I felt really unwell when I had it, but was rather entertained when I felt better and noticed that pints of water tasted like double cream, parsnips no longer tasted nice, and sometimes when I stood up I felt as though I had drunk half a bottle of champagne. Sometimes even now water tastes creamy and I wonder why this is.

 

For Eat the Storms this week Damien Donnelly shared work from The Whiskey Tree’s Untamed Nature collection. I loved listening in because I had not been able to make the zoom launch and I always enjoy listening to how the poems sound in the authentic voices of their writers. The interview with Alan Parry was good too. I love hearing about people’s journeys into writing and finding out what resonates with them.

 

I also got to hear Susan Richardson read my poem ‘Silence’ on the A Thousand Shades of Green poetry podcast finale for Season 2 on Friday. This podcast is the perfect length to accompany a tea break or in my case on Friday a water break. I like to make sure I am hydrated and was reminded of why water should be my choice when I got the judders from taking decongestants with caffeine in them this week. The caffeine is handy when you need a boost, but it still has potential to make me think too fast and sort of vibrate. It reminds me of the time I got myself a long lasting stutter on the letter t in an assembly one morning after too much strong coffee. Almost as impressive as the time I was asked in the Post Office what I was posting and I stumbled on, “It’s a, it’s a, it’s a” before being able to complete my sentence. Hearing Silence read was powerful for me as I think I mentioned last week that my relationship with silence has altered in the past six months. I am grateful to One Hand Clapping for giving the poem its original home, Susan for voicing it so I could listen and to Black Eyes for including it in my forthcoming collection.

 

Alt text describes this week’s photo as, “A shadow of two people on a road”. I don’t have anything to add except there is a marking on the ground that could be seen as a seam or a zip between the two people. I do love a shadow photo!

 

I leave you today with a poem about moles that almost wanted a home in my second collection, but just deserves a little outing all of its own...

 

LEARNING ABOUT MOLES

 

After thumbs had numbed

and tongues cooled

on hot days between school and bus

we ended our eating of ice pops

in different ways.

 

She curled the plastic over and over

and sucked,

drawing the last of the liquid up

towards the opening

scissored by the sweetshop man.

Perhaps like her mother

turning the toothpaste tube tighter and tighter.

 

I preferred head back,

eyes closed against the sky,

a peristaltic squeeze

until the sweet trickle

became just a few more drops.

 

Now I learn that moles squeeze the mud

from earthworms before they eat them.

But do they suck them up from tunnel floors

or blind-eyed catch them dangling?