Seasick, yet still docked.

For my post graduate course I have been trawling my Norton Anthology of Poetry to find a suitable poem to use in a peer teaching activity next week. I didn't want a poem too archaic, but then I couldn't use a modern Benjamin Zephaniah as I thought it might be too hard to break apart and reassemble.

Stock cheesy photo as I am far to tired to snap my own, that is for a whole new post entirely!

I could sit and read poetry all day. I could bore my peers senseless raving on about Ted Hughes' The Thought Fox and how much I love it, but you know I've got to be diverse yeah? Shakespeare got deemed too intimidating along with Wordsworth and Coleridge. Although I briefly considered the relationship between the two poets and could have totally switched lanes regarding my creative writing peer teach I focused on finding a simple poem rich with everyday words. Khubla Khan is too big a concept to introduce to new poets on virgin territory and The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti. Well, where do you start with that?

Listen to this glorious poem of MANNNNNNY meanings)

This is such a good recording of this wonderful poem, I dare you to listen to it, and rethink what you think poetry actually is.

Anyway, do you want to know what apt poem I found?

"Sea-Fever"
John Masefield

I must down to the seas again,to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

This poem has a great deal of words about the sea, including the word 'spume'. the most glorious word in the English Language if you were to ask me. So lots of words that can be moved around. Gosh, That was some good thinking on my part. 

Still left wondering why I titled this post with a Morrissey song? Well, it's going to be playing in the background as my peers create poetry. Ta-dahh! I always get him in somewhere. #mozarmy etc.

Not So Simple Suppertime Thought.

So once again it is Friday. This day happens on a regular basis, but it is gone before you know it. I have a whole weekend ahead of me to think of poems for an assignment. I need one ripe with plenty of words, words that look good in any combination, words easy to use but rich in flavour. (Do excuse me I've been watching Nigel Slater's Simple Suppers).

Firstly, I thought about using Night Mail by WH Auden but I cannot induce doggerel, so I'll need another. DON'T EVER SUGGEST WORDSWORTH TO ME! What do we do when we are seeking inspiration and wandering the videoblogosphere? We go to the friend of the procrastinator; You Tube. You're lucky, it's not chicken olympics this time but something utterly terrifying; OLD RADIO SPEAKING!

Haunting bellowing tones. W.B Yeats' recordings incite fear at the very thought. I wouldn't sound so scary reading out a poem, but their voices bellow over vale and yonder, drenched in sadness and woe.

I can't type any more I'm trying to find videos of Nancy Mitford speaking quaintly on the eccentricities of her life. BRB etc.

And then I found William Carlos Williams

This is just to say

So I am sat here practicing modelled reading; that is to expressively read aloud. I'm using one of my own poems to practice. I am also googling red Ford Mondeos. All will become clear. It made me think though, think of all the useless things I look up on a daily basis. Aside from the Morrissey videos and make up tutorials I found myself keying the letters c-h-i-c-k-e-n-o-l-y-m-p-i-c-s. Yep, that's right. CHICKEN OLYMPICS. What an earth is going on there? Do you even want to know? (There was a slightly humorous advert with a chicken doing a triple jump.) The worst part of this is, I couldn't even find the Happy Egg Company advert where I saw it. What I did find was someone videoing chickens in a race.

 Here you are, my  pleasure etc.

Well the strange thing is, I could have thought about these chickens all day. I could have looked up breeds of chicken. I could have looked for another word to describe the chicken's feathers? pelt? who cares? How they pecked angrily around nonchalantly crossing the finishing line. Think up a half rhyme for Usian Bolt. What for exactly? I don't know but it gives me something to talk about here. So if I think of these things on average 468 times a day, what else do I do?

Eventually, I found an image of a red mondeo. It isn't even that exciting.

An Apology to the Great Red Shark

It served me well

travelled

for fifty thousand miles.

Was spacious

bright;

The Great Red Shark.

Bumper cracked,

dented

wing, but.

But I’m sorry

it just had to go.

Be replaced

with something

so cool

so old.

At the time of writing this, I was well and truly in the throes of love for William Carlos Williams. Something about tangible everyday object you say? YES please I say. When I asked @timkeypoet what his favourite poem was he told me it was 'This Is Just To Say'. It is safe to say I am now in throes of writerly admiration for Tim Key. 

Click to read the awesome 'plums' poem.