I'm not keen to swamp cyberspace with the mountains of mediocre stuff I've churned out over the years - most of the postings here will be exercise pieces written for Codsall Writers' Group. Brace yourself for the dreary prattling of an oldie with an interest in poetry and prose. NB when I say I'm interested in poetry, I mean the proper stuff, not my own drivel. |
Epithalamium for Toni and Andrew
on their Wedding Day 4th September 2020 When I was asked to write a poem for today’s event I researched the tradition of wedding poems. You’ll be thrilled to learn that a poem written especially for a wedding is called an Epithalamium. The earliest known epithalamia originated circa 600 BC - they were written in Greek or Latin and addressed to the bride. My Greek and Latin are rubbish so with apologies to the learnèd Greeks and Romans, here is my 2020 AD Epithalamium written in simple Midland Speak – it’s especially for our young couple today, for family and friends and, of course, to welcome Toni into our family. Note: it was lockdown wedding with a limited number present we were masked, hand-gelled and spaced out for the ceremony and the best we do for a reception was an outdoor event in Carol and Gary's garden. However, in the front garden we had some very posh luxurious porta-loos to maintain the social distancing rules. As you might imagine - I found this hilarious. To summarise - a happy day. |
Oh... not a cheesy poem!
Yes, I hear your silent cries, I know just what you’re thinking, And see the glazed look in your eyes. Now sit up and pay attention! There is something we must do, We have to celebrate this day And exchange a word or two. We are saying “Welcome Toni” To the Mitchell family, What we have to offer is… Marry one: the rest come free. We're glad you’ve come to join us, So too are Josh and Jai, Little Ralfie’s older brothers, Which leaves one more thing to say… Mr and Mrs Mitchell, And our precious little boys, We wish you all a happy life Forever filled with love and joy. |
Covid 19 - Spring/Summer 2020
Writers Group is in shutdown so while we all self isolate we have to do a piece for publication on our website. This is one of my offerings. I also did the daub it's in acrylic 24 ins x 24 ins. Covid 19 - acrylic by Betty
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The Year of the Rainbows (a children's story)
In the year 2020 a dangerous virus escaped from wherever very nasty things live. It wandered off all around the world making people in every country extremely ill. People were so poorly all the hospitals became full. The doctors and nurses had to work very hard taking care of hundreds of patients. Parents were worried and all the children were worried and sometimes felt frightened. Things got so bad that schools and nurseries had to close. Eventually everything closed and everyone had to stay at home to stop the virus being passed to other people. Everyone had to wash their hands over and over again to keep their hands vey clean. The virus travelled fast and it travelled everywhere. With no school or nursery to go to the children became bored. Then one day they began to paint rainbows and this made them feel a little happier. So they painted more rainbows and hung them in their windows. |
PLACE-NAMES OF CHINA by Alan Bennett
Building Vedas! Shanks New Nisa! Trusty Lichfield swirls it down To filter beds on Ruislip Marshes From my lav in Kentish Town. The Burlington! The Rochester! Oh those names of childhood loos-- Nursie rattling at the door-knob: ‘Have you done your Number Twos?’ Lady typist – office party-- Golly! All that gassy beer! Tripping home down Hendon Parkway To her Improved Windermere. Here I sit, alone and sixty, Bald and fat and full of sin, Cold the seat and loud the cistern As I read the Harpic tin. |
MORE PLACE NAMES OF CHINA by Betty Taylor
Mr Bennet, I’m dying to tell you And I think you’ll be surprised, Sanitary ware has been updated Now your poem should be revised. Wheelchair friendly, modern lines, Shanks’s Contour, smooth and neat. Has extra space around the pan-- Good ergonomics, comfy seat. A modern must, the Windermere, Not a lake, but stylish loo, And the Braemar’s just the ticket When you’ve a private thing to do. Would you like soft closing lid? The choice of dual or single flush? There’s even loos that macerate Nasty stuff: I’m sure you’d blush. You mention Harpic in your rhyme, Now we have all sorts of stuff To dainty up our smelly loos I believe more than enough. We've Toilet Duck and Ecozone, Domestos, bleach, and things that fizz. We've blocks to make the water blue But modern Harpic does the biz. |
Codsall Writers Group:
homework for reading on 17th January 2017. Brief: look at the picture and use it as a starting point for a piece of writing - apply a bit of lateral thinking and see where it takes you. This is the picture we were given. Everyone accomplished the task - we never cease to be surprised by the diversity of the results.
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Paper Bag
"There's a brown paper bag on the table," Said Fred to his wife, name of Mable. "I've bought all the stuff, I trust there's enough, P'raps you'll do it as soon as you're able." Mabel looked at her hubby somewhat curious Hoping he planned nothing spurious. Fred could be such a drag And that mysterious bag, Or has he bought something luxurious? Mabel perked up and smiled ear to ear. "Oh Freddie," she purred, "you're a dear. If I close my eyes You can reveal the surprise, Quick! Pass that brown bag over here." Poor Freddie realised his faux par, He knew he'd gone much too far, As a bag full of sugar Is a bit of a bugger When your wife is thinking tiara. "My darling," he said, "you're a dream. These metaphorical jewels brightly gleam Golden fruits for a star And you're good with a jar, Be my marmalade maker supreme. |
Codsall Writers' Group
Homework for reading 19th January 2016 Brief: Take inspiration from one of the given pictures and write a piece of flash fiction 50 - 500 words. In The Bag "What will Dave say if he finds out?" "I'll make sure he never knows." "But the kids are sure to drop it out, we're only ten miles from home." "Yes, but I've told them this place is called Brighton." "You'll never get away with it. He's given you a thousand pounds to take the kids away for a week while he attends a business conference. It just won't work." "Of course it will... I've brought last year's buckets and spades, they're happy dabbling in the water... look at them." "Wem is hardly Brighton." "You worry too much... I make a point of referring to your place as 'the hotel' when we get home the girls will talk the talk... hotel, paddling, buckets and spades, ice creams, tea shops... the usual stuff." "You're crazy." "Maybe, but a week here just instilling the right words and keeping them amused will get me a Louis Vuitton handbag. Er... maybe when he has to go again we'll get one for you. What do you think." "Oh well if you put it like that..." |
DARK DEPTHS
The water was uninviting, alien. She stared into its murky depth, her heart heavy. She had to do it; there was no way out. Face set, back rigid, she steeled herself for the final plunge, consoling herself that he had telephoned and would be here tomorrow to repair the dishwasher. |
DAY ONE
It’s warm and safe in here. I’m not sure about leaving, but somehow I feel compelled to go. No, not yet. The walls are closing in, yes, it’s time to get out, I must get out. I’m scared. Not so fast, I’m so tired. Soon, very soon, I shall scream. |
CHEESE SUPPER
The metal bar struck without warning. The sudden pain shooting through her body. For a moment she thought of her babies, felt panic, helplessness, but the pain took over. Her life was draining away. Why had she been tempted? Such pain – sheer hell – and all for a morsel of cheese. |
Writers Groyp POETRY WORKSHOP
with Jane Seabourne - Theme 'Water' Water In Africa the rain Gods don’t respond to people’s prayers. In the west sun worshippers fry themselves for fashion’s sake. Nations thrive, nations starve. Weather systems just don’t care. |
HOMEWORK for reading 3rd September 2013 - Book Review
The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O’Farrell A cleverly structured novel – it took me a chapter to two to get into the unfolding plot and the leaps back and forth through time. At the core we have Esme, her sister Kitty and Kitty’s granddaughter, Iris. It is Iris who unravels Esme’s story whilst simultaneously dealing with her own problems. Very early in her childhood Esme has been traumatised by the death of a sibling – no one understands and she becomes ‘difficult’. The family move from their cosseted Colonial life in India to cold, draughty Edinburgh. We begin to feel Iris’s growing outrage as she learns how 1930s upper middle-class society imposed bigoted rules that had a damaging and adverse effect on people's lives. Young Esme is gifted, creative, a free spirit – her parents see her as a rebellious naughty child. Her talents are unappreciated and squashed. Esme and her sister are urged to aspire to a ‘good’ marriage – anathema to Esme. Esme continues her rebellion and is finally “put away for her own good” - consigned to a mental institution. Her elders are satisfied and Kitty lives her life within the confines of society. Iris ferrets away unearthing the past and we realise how social etiquette affected actions and decisions – Esme's story is revealed, leading us to the shocking conclusion. |
HOMEWORK for reading 3rd September 2013 - Book Review
The Reader by Bernhard Schlink I read this book only because it has been prescribed. I baulk at the thought of reading about the holocaust. However: it was our homework piece and so I read it and loved it. This is another book where the story unfolds retrospectively. Although Hanna is the main protagonist we hear her story through the first person narration of a very young intellectual who embarks on an affair with an older woman - Hanna. The woman is uninhibited and inevitably the boy is held in her spell. The narrative is unusual in that it is not bogged with reported speech, or there is very little, but is has pace and so we are quickly drawn into Michael and Hanna’s story. One would expect such an affair to be transient, a growing up thing, but although Michael finally moves on; university, marriage, divorce, a career in law, thoughts of his past and memories of Hanna haunt him through the years. At the height of his studies and as part of his research he has to attend a trial. In the dock is Hanna. She is accused of abusing prisoners at a point in time before Michael knew her, a point in time when the Jews were herded into concentration camps and Hanna was a prison guard. Michael deals with this awful matter by confronting it to the point of obsession. He attends the court daily, watching, reasoning, philosophising internally. As I read the book I wondered if the author is a philosopher as he gives plausible account of cause and effect of events upon his characters’ actions. Happenings are so well reasoned that one almost, and I stress almost, begins to have a smattering of empathy for Hanna despite the horrors of what has happened in the camps. In a Eureka moment Michael discovers the flaw that has blighted Hanna’s entire life. He is convinced it is the reason for her alienation from society in general, something that had been evident but undetected in their early association. Something that contributed and may have been the reason for her actions – but can it be considered an excuse? Despite this story being related in a non-graphical, non-salacious way and having little direct speech, it remains thought provoking, and has lingered in my mind. I think that Michael's intense affair with Hanna all those years ago affected the rest of his life and caused his inability to form lasting relationship in later life. Was she his gaoler too? Conversely Michael is guilt-ridden and feels duty-bound to do the right thing when Hanna is released from gaol into a world now alien to her. This book is something of a revelation – I think it can be read and accessed at different levels – i.e. read the story for its worth as a good tale: or, whilst reading, take time to consider the brief philosophical and analytical aspects within the text, it’s so easy to skim over them when keen to digest the plot. |
I wrote this poem some time ago when I was having piano lessons, giving a little insight into my unsuccessful "piano years".
STRIFE BEGINS AT FORTE Not being the type that's sporty, Not too highbrow, nor too haughty, I'm learning' pianoforte - drat the scales, But my battering of the ivories Is shattering to Clive, he is My much tormented tutor - hear his wails! When playing pizzicato I confuse it with legato, And my grandioso tends to be quite small, I can't do a tremolando D'ye think he'll smack me hand?- oh! Before I drive us both right up the wall. I'm sure he feels quite weary When he's teaching me the theory, Dreary demisemiquavers won't behave, They don't fit the acciaccatura And cause a big furore, Poor Chopin's turning over in his grave. |
Just a middle-aged beginner
And a great harmonic sinner Hubby's dinner's never done when he gets home, As I thump the old 'pianner' In my unmelodic manner, Neighbour's bangin' on the wall's my metronome. Though I send them all quite frantic I intend to be pedantic... Continuing this antic just the same, While husband, son and daughter Might threaten me with slaughter, I’ll regale them with my 'music' - what a shame! One day my great cacophony May turn into a symphony, By Jiminy! I think that pigs might fly, So, whilst I'm still a duffer, The world will have to suffer, But, I'll get the hang of it before I die! |
THE PHOTOGRAPHS
two pictures same subject camera snapped sandwiching seventy years an old smile a young scowl give no clues just faces gazing out one quite young one quite old but same hair and same stare years between undisclosed |
Exercise: write a piece of prose or poetry prompted by a photograph
This form is called concrete poetry. No particular rhyming scheme - it's also about the shape of the words on the page and trying to make the shape relate to the message - my idea is that I'm on the downhill run. |