Last week I finished a decent draft of the first chapter of a creative non fiction book I’m writing. It was an intense experience, partly because of the content, partly because I’m slightly out of my comfort zone with prose, but I know I need to push through that to reach the place that I want to be. I had been shortlisted for the Alpine Fellowship Writing Award which was a huge deal, it’s very prestigious and the prize money would have meant having the time to write, without distraction. I can’t really emphasise how important that is for a writer. Anyhoo, I did not make it past the shortlist and though I was obviously disappointed, I had a lot to be happy about. There were 2000 entries and I made it to the last thirty, with an essay which I’m hoping will form a chapter of the book later…

..day 113..

dogs.

i miss her eyes, her looking up, back at me
the sound of her running the stairs scratching the door when it slammed shut in the wind

so i imagine your dog
from the description you gave

me

got no walk yesterday for heavy rain
nor today by looks of it

things come together
things are changing

rattles the brain
until things drop into place
and we move forward knowing

i am a fortunate even though

you made a positive change 
i find my words come the same

now with one finger
the pointy one
the one i point with

you know on the bus with her
then
at horses, helicopters and planes

dogs

now I indicate invisible with my mind
unless I forget

though we won’t go on buses now

i count in the last day tomorrow 
for although we must stay safe
i do not…

One summer we collected caterpillars,
picked them, green and glistening,
off the cabbage leaves.

We kept them in a glass box
in the shed, and fed them
fat and slow
until they built themselves cocoons.

We left them then,
grey chrysalises, dry and dead,
forgot them over winter.
One morning, bright with spring,
I went into the shed
and found it full
of fragile, fluttering wings

so clear
so beautiful

we set them free.

A poem for Anmol’s last dVerse prompt. I’m sorry that this is his last one – his prompts have been challenging and creative, and I will miss them. As a final flourish, he asks us to write in the awareness that this is Pride Month, a time to celebrate the lgbtq+ community in all its shapes and forms. I’ve chosen to write about transformation, about finding freedom through that transformation. This is for anybody who…

.day 112.

awake early to rain on the window
severe piano music from the radio

cosy up a while
with tea

your words took on a different tone than
the cycling tales 

I appreciate this

today here
comes another announcement 
predicted it will be dropping the

present travel restriction 

yesterday came energy
with words from another

with a sudden burst late 
the grass was cut though
was sent cross eyed back

into the house with hunger

new recipe awaited
what I invented &
I expect someone else
invented it before sometime

rhubarb delivered after
from the family garden

james

to be cooked today
some frozen in small portions

when young I ate it raw
on the bus home from work

my mother told me it clears the blood
while vinegar changed it to water

things to tell a child

I wonder about the taste of tea
as I drink it

Today…12th of August 2019
Was the day you should have retired.
The inglorious twelfth when the powerful decide
That the grouse have spent long enough on this earth.
It should have been a national thank you
For a working life spent caring for others.
You left school to work in a mill at fifteen
As a child paying her National Insurance,
A contract undertaken for fifty years hence.
You fulfilled your side of the bargain…
And worked each day of your life ever since;
Whether in shops caring for customers
Or on the road to care for the elderly.
And now, as best as you are able
You help them see out their days
So that other people don’t have to.
You paid your taxes throughout your life
And now at the whim of those who sit on their arse
Desperate to work out ways of not paying theirs,
You…

..day 111..

just words added together making phrases

slogans

programmed I guess
without anyone noticing

until they do
of course

then comes embarrassment
on realisation

it means nothing

we prefer it this way

i have been imagining and that is all it is

invented scenarios in my mind

james

how are you guys doing over there now?

at first here it felt difficult for me
for shopping and other tasks

gradually
we found our way
now it is the way

of life

rang the helpline about my laptop james
he says he thinks we are the virus on this
earth that kills the trees and animals

that kills each other

i walk each day
&
some days stay dry

forever imagining

I’ve been thinking and reading a little about the delivery of constructive criticism to creative writers. I’ve also been thinking about how an understanding of what constitutes good feedback can help us recognise quality and good practice and it’s opposite –  poorly delivered feedback which is potentially destructive and demotivating.  I’m not talking about what is said but the way in which it is said.  When I’ve had time, perhaps in a week or so, I’ll write my thoughts findings and ideas and share them here.

In the meantime I thought I’d start at the very beginning by looking closely at the meaning of the phrase ‘constructive criticism’.

I looked up the words separately and found a list of synonyms for each. When I put the lists together I found they dovetailed nicely and can be seen as providing a set of mini definitions.  This is the list I made. You…