Friday, 30 June 2017
Hello there, I'm sharing a little poem today which was written for #theprompt back in February. I seem to spend a lot of time messing about with paperwork and submitting work to places, and not enough time doing other things, you know, like writing. I'm trying to write a little poem every day, usually a haiku or a tanka just so my brain stays in the zone, and I love this haiku type thing.
It might seem a little bit miserable, but actually I wrote it after a lovely day, walking with friends in the morning, and busying my brain with preparations for poetry events that were coming up. I guess it's speaking to the importance of self care. Something I've been doing again today, going for a massively long cycle ride which was just gorgeous (although if anyone has some spare knees or a bum I'll take them).
Good news today too - one of those poems I've been submitting has been accepted. I keep the poetry tag up to date with what I'm getting published where, so have a look there if you're interested. I'm now including the date I last updated it in the title so you know if you've missed anything (and I put the most recent at the top for you).
Thursday, 29 June 2017
Happy New Year! I hope you've had a great Christmas and New Year. We did, although it was a bit quiet. The last week of the holidays dragged, mainly because I got a stinking horrible cold on January 1st, which is making me feel totally rotten. Ugh.
Anyway, things are going pretty well on the writing front. I had two poems out last month, and I also got shortlisted for the Great British Write Off, which was totally unexpected, and kinda lovely. I've also had lots of things rejected, and failed to get placed in my local writing group's competition. I worked really hard on that poem and I'm annoyed with myself for not doing better, I'm trying to tell myself it's all subjective, but the usual suspects got placed again. Maybe it's just not my audience.
I am slightly gutted that Maddy at Writing Bubble is going to be too busy to run the What I'm Writing Linky this year, but so glad that she's got lots of interesting things on. However, Sara at Mum Turned Mom is still doing The Prompt, which I love for giving me weekly inspiration, and an online writing group of sorts. Her prompt this week is: Start and seeing as I've been despairing about getting to be a really good writer this week, while I've been ill, and constantly getting the not-good-enough feels, I thought I'd give myself a talking to... Here it is, complete with a voice recording.
And even though the earth rises mountainous
and even though I am tiny and do not know how small
and even though the way is shadowy
and clouded and to me unknown
I know this: I know the way is up.
I know there is a way.
And if I go wrong I can try again
and the more I try the more I'll know.
And even if I cannot go up beyond the shadow
and through the cloud to the summit
I know this: I can try.
And if I do not know where or how the path will end
I know where it starts...
...with this first step.
© Cara L McKee 8/1/17
Obviously, I am not going to be climbing any real mountains, because they're really quite high up and I'm afraid of heights, but you get what I mean, right?
Wednesday, 28 June 2017
This is not my land.
This waterlogged clay soil is not my rich loam.
I am the incomer, comeover, the offcomeden;
not from 'round these parts.
We do not share a history,
I do not know your tales,
and you are unprejudiced, but
I don't fit in.
And yet, I find, on returning
to the green-grey valleys of God's own county
this now too, is not my home.
Not my land.
© Cara L McKee, 26th November 2015
Sunday, 11 June 2017
The prompt at Mum Turned Mom this fortnight is 'Colour', and I've been thinking about what to write and keep coming back to political allegiances, thinking of all my friends with their red and yellow backgrounds to their Facebook posts, to the conversations I keep having about who the hell it is that keeps voting Tory. On the morning after the latest general election I went out for coffee with a friend, to celebrate the Tory humiliation, and mourn the fact that they're still in power. I don't know if that couple were Tories, the poem was originally about a friend, but I've changed it to bad mouth people I don't know. Sorry about that!
Wearing our colours
We went for coffee to celebrate,
to commiserate, to pick over the bones
of what was won, what lost,
of who let us down
and we wished that everyone
had to dress in the colours
that showed what they did.
Then we would know who it was
who didn't bother,
who hid amongst us,
for there had to be someone we knew.
And the black dripped from my dress
which filled with Scotish yellow
buttercup yellow reflected
below my friend's chin
as her clothes turned yellow as well.
The couple by the window
were bluer than the sky
and the yellow-clad waitress
glanced at them askance
coming to our table.
More coffee ladies? On the house.