poems & pomegranates

It’s been a while since I talked on the blog about the narrator/writer dichotomy, but it’s still a subject that interests me.

Recently, I started writing a column for The Woman Writer (the magazine of the SWWJ – the Society of Women Writers and Journalists). In the article “I”: an invitation to poetry, published in the April issue, I talked about how first-person, present-tense poetry can encourage the reader to empathise and participate rather than simply observe.

Although it’s not a long article, it brings together a number of my thoughts on the subject, so I’ll include it in its entirety here:

great oaks and giant redwoods

 

Wildflowers and grasses
dwarf my three-year oak.
The spring breeze whispers:
Patience! Time will tell.

 
Of course the tree in the picture isn’t the “three-year oak”. (Though I think the little one would be quite a bit taller if it hadn’t been accidentally strimmed a couple of times in its first year!)

The photo is of one of the trees on the neighbouring plot.

They tower over our greenhouse and when the wind blows in autumn, acorns skitter across the flat roof and I am tempted to run like Henny Penny to warn everybody that “the sky is falling!”

grammatically modified gardening

 
I was awake earlier than usual today so decided to get straight on with some gardening then send some emails before getting washed and dressed.

Still bleary-eyed when I sat down at the computer, I misplaced my modifiers.

I fear, therefore, that at least one poor soul has been greeted this morning with a message telling them that “I’ve been dead-heading the roses in my pyjamas.”

I’m not going to post a photo of me in my pyjamas, but I hope these pictures help to clarify that the roses are in the garden, not in my nightwear.

feather brained

The village is running an ornithological photography competition.

Sadly, although many birds visit the garden – blackbirds, hoopoes, azure-tailed magpies, jays, warblers, black caps, treecreepers… – not to mention the herons down by the river and the hawks and eagles who share our airspace, they all have a nasty habit of flying away before I can get my camera out, let alone focus it.

So unless I build a hide in the greenhouse and stalk what I think must be a pair of black redstarts who are nesting there, or set up the step ladder on the verandah and try and peer into the swallows’ neat adobe home, neither of which seem to be recommended courses of action, I don’t think I’ll be entering the competition.

I have, however, had a little more luck taking pictures of this marvellous creature with his spectacular feathered antennae. (Go on: click the photo and check him out close up!)

light moments

Morning lilacs loom
as bright as lightbulbs.

Evening ivy drips
with sunlight

A lupin wildfire ravages the neighbour's field