(This is a very raw and unedited bit of rambling, posted here as an example of the sort of thing that I write when I’m thinking about what to write but can’t actually get writing.)
Around ten past midnight on the cusp of Monday February 7th and Tuesday February 8th, 2017.
I wrote a little blog article between yesterday (Sunday) and today (Monday). It’s all about Trump and Brexit. Its premise/conclusion is that the ‘Libtards’ have to apologise before we can move on and develop a better system (if there is even a need for a ‘system’). But, a better system of what?
- Democracy
- Politics
- Society
- How do we get on and look after each other?
Anyway, despite it having been a miserable day in some ways, the fact that I finished an article of sorts has made it a good day. It wasn’t easy and I had to plough on despite feeling that it would never make sense. In the end I think it does. It’s called ‘It’s not too late to say sorry’.
Less than a week ago, I published Blodyn, a book of my poetry, old and new, despite having only recently written blogs about how rubbish poetry, or at least the poetry industry, is.
Anyway, putting Blodyn together has sparked anew my interest in and love of writing poetry, so here goes:
Verses for a purpose
They need bundling
collecting in a net
They need releasing
one by one
They need repeating
repeating
Each one is a gem
a coruscating gem
A method of seeing
understanding
Caress them in your hands
Speak them with your mouth
Stroke them with your voice
Bring them home
Let them gather
together
Let them drift
Let them fly
Catch them as they pass
Love them while they last
—–
Stars are special
Stars are light
Stars are real
Stars are bright
—–
Must be time for bed; it’s nearly one a.m.
Nos da!