Daily Archives: March 8, 2015

Sex & Death in a Children’s Home by Stuart Paterson

I am not a silent poet

I’ve just been told by a twelve year-old
Go & shag your dead dad,
the latest in a long & heartfelt list
to do with shagging parents, kids,
household pets, the long-forgotten dead.

My dad wouldn’t really understand.
he’d either ask them what they meant
or be laconic & suggest that they
had better fetch a spade
& don’t forget the sellotape.

The scars & bruises fade with
therapy & medical attention yet
will never totally go but linger mercilessly
like infection.

I know his dad has died & that, within himself,
he’s still to say goodbye, which may explain
his need to roar Fuck off!
a dozen times a day at me.

Although I think, to him, I am his dad
& won’t be dead & won’t fuck off
& absolutely will not go & fuck myself
or anybody else or their relations.

When everyone eventually fucks off

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A Father away with Absurdities by Chris Madoch

I am not a silent poet

….the wee lamb made of real lambskin jingled bells
….a powerful thing remembering what excitement it wrought
….suck rag reflex
….though not as thrilling as the visions my eyes caught
….above outside the dented coach pram’s French Blue canopy
….trees swaying in reverse
….a daylight satellite of grey and white
….the ride much as a boat
….as babies once were meant to float on clouds of comfort
….be rocked by waves of love.
….From the outset I was all at sea.

You’re an awkward four- three and three quarters to be exact
Witful enough to open doors to hungrily explore
That sat beyond the duh transparency of plastic nursery songs
That drone on like the poems of drones intone
Habit rabid habit

You can read as if you’re ten plus
So do so avidly
It lends you mini miracles and maxi fearlessness
Whetting a precocious tongue

A voracious appetite…

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Because failure is assured

Anthony Wilson

An Absorbing Errand Janna Malamud Smith: An Absorbing Errand

Recently I have been reading the exquisite prose of Janna Malamud Smith, in her book-length meditation on creativity: An Absorbing Errand: How Artists and Craftsmen Make their Way to Mastery.

She has arranged the book thematically in chapters with open-ended titles such as ‘Fears’, ‘Shame’, ‘Recognition’ and ‘Creative Solitude’. Each one proceeds to analyse the practices, outputs and influences of figures as diverse as Michael Jackson, Dorothy and William Wordsworth, Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell, Chaplin, Picasso and Keats. Barely a page has gone by without some of it going into my notebook, or dazzled marginalia. I don’t think I have read anything like it, ever.

Here is a passage that I have taken the liberty of rendering into a found poem, from her chapter on ‘Ruthlessness’. For me it is the centre of the book’s main argument.


(and here is one…

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