Tag Archives: @NaPoWriMo @NaPoWriMo2013 @infograe #hangerfarmpoets

Wal-ku 4 (on walkies – Zig & Zag) by Vega

 

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Vega:

“I don’t ‘do’ straight lines;

Hither, thither, back and forth –

That’s the way I roll!”

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31st April, 2013 by Graeme Sandford

Woke up this morning…

Well, would have done so if I’d been asleep;

But it was the excitement of the last day of @NaPoWriMO2013 (FYI that’s pronounced ‘at,nah,poe,wree,moe,twen-ty, thir-teen’ which gives credence to the next rhyme)

And I was excited; oh, yessum – visibly so (excuse my French), you know what I mean.

But, strangely, everyone else was suffering an anti-climax!

I poised my instrument over the screen

And… hesitated…

‘The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.’
(verse 51 of Edward FitzGerald‘s translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám)

Pounced into my mind and tore at it.

What if my Ultimate poem was just a load of doggy-doos

Or something I’d written when worse for wear with booze?

What if…? My friends. ‘What if?’ and ‘If Only…’ are the mottoes of the lonely

And only I can be a man who when tasked to it can ban

ish the blues and bring the sunshine into your lives.

As I was walking to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives:

And punched him! (Serves him right for being so greedy;

And not giving away one to the needy – me!)

‘So, here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts…’

(Marillion – Script for a Jester’s Tear, 1983)

When all my words are fuelled by moment and observation;

When my every idea is just pulled from comment and inclination.

When my poem for today is, ultimately, unfinished and ongoing…

This is the end of Part One

Call back later, if you please, to read about the Uke-Playing Nun.

 

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Twenty-Eight – 28-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford

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Twenty-Eight

        

Index

 

And let’s get this right

If not, the fingers will point at you.

 

Alan

Alice

Anish

Antony

(First to forth, alphabetically, is that made clear)

Benjamin

Cornelia

Ed

Edmund

Lord Foster

(Sounds like the Dramatis Personae from Shakespeare’s, King Lear)

Hugh

Ludovico

Mary

(Do we know people of fame by a single name?

e.g. Bono, Cher, Ringo, Madonna)

Michael

Mona

Morten

Sir Nicholas

(a knight, a Sir, how do you do? It’s an honour)

Nick

Raymond

Richard

Richard

Richard

(three Dicks, a Ray, a Nick

Do names shortened thus, make you sick?)

Roger

Susan

Tacita

Sir Terence

(come, and see the system’s inherence)

Tom

Tracey

Vivienne

(twenty-eight digitally enhanced personages

To signify the talent that through their bodies rages)

 

 

 

Explanation

TWENTY EIGHT FINGERS is a collection of casts of the index fingers of creative people including visual artists, musicians, writers, animators, architects and poets; highlighting the diversity of creative thinking and practice. The piece includes the cast index fingers of Alan Bennett, Richard Billingham, Raymond Briggs, Sir Terence Conran, Richard Deacon, Tacita Dean, Ludovico Einaudi, Tracey Emin, Lord Foster, Antony Gormley, Sir Nicholas Grimshaw, Mona Hatoum, Susan Hiller, Anish Kapoor, Richard Long, Hugh Masekela, Roger McGough, Morten Morland, Alice Oswald, Nick Park, Cornelia Parker, Tom Phillips, Mary Quant, Ed Ruscha, Michael Sandle, Edmund de Waal, Vivienne Westwood and Benjamin Zephaniah.

27 Forever! 27-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford

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In the land of the Delta Blues

At the Crossroads where the Devil

Took the soul and lit the fuse.

 

Formed the Stones, Left the stones,

left the rolling for others to do,

Couldn’t get No Satisfaction; so had to Paint it Black for you.

 

‘Purple Haze all through my brain…’

I listen to his cool refrain;

We’ll never see his like again, excuse me, while I…

 

‘Me and Bobby McGee’

Both miss the girl that sang for me,

It was no sweet voice that set her free. 

 

Mr. Mojo Risin’, the sunset fell on you

As you broke on through to the other side,

And the doors closed, as they do.

 

Play as you go; too soon, you know,

And never hear into what you’d grow

So, Mute, you go; Mute you go.

 

A tale of a Knight, that felt so right,

Oh, what might have been; when Knight met queen –

Acting the part, so sorely felt, did you depart.

 

Come on over, Valerie wants a chat,

But, life was not to be your crack,

And you are not coming back in black

 

You learnt the truth at… twenty-seven

That life was not for you, but Heaven…

Or Hell! But, you live on; that, I can tell.