Investiture

The best form of attack is defence

That is

To set your stall out

Make your position precisely clear

Really; to sew up all the options

A moat, a drawbridge to be drawn

Soldiers on the turrets

Now let them take offence

Oh, yes

Well of course, no

That was not exactly my point

But now that I am incarcerated

What  do you expect

That the more intellectual academic

Man would do

Well

You could let the peasants through

Draw down your drawbridge

Become open to persuasion

Negotiate

Capitulate

If you like understand

Or whatever

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Mother Nature

I never could have thought

Back on that February night

Where the ever this could go

I was already adrift

And to drift a little more

Was a, more than, adventure

Those words today

Came to me, as the fine

Drizzle turned to full on rain

There was I, an afternoon

To wander, in a linen jacket

With fresh blown hair

These words now I write

In the café

With a cup of tea

A toasted currant teacake

With the butter left at your suggest

On the plate, set to one side

In the last year

I have been more alive

Than in many a year

Is this then the project

That I was due to be allocated

If so I hesitated but then I flew

Would ever you or anyone

Our thoughts hope ever to

Be captured

All our days

All our nights

All our thought provoking moments

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Preemptive

Ten Paintings

Twenty Poems

10001 Strokes of Distraction

Norwich School of Art & Design run a MA course Writing the Visual which I was introduced to by Andrea Holland, I was impressed by Andrea and her description of, and enthusiasm for the course to such an extent that I almost enrolled. I particularly enjoyed the term 'sister arts' as a reference to the combination and interface of the craft of writing and the craft of the visual arts.

At the same time I was thinking about a focal point for my own poetry. In this I had determined that my poetry ought to try and bring goodness and beauty to the reader (and the writer). That I believe is the essence of much of my previous writing in any event; looking backwards I have to search hard to find poems with a political message or in support of any specific cause, it is not my natural outpouring.

To then use the 'beauty' has seen by, and described by, another artist for the basis for poetry seemed quite a small step. Of course what I would see when I looked at the paintings would not be the original beauty that the artist portrayed, no instead what I see is an abstraction of that perception, an indication which nevertheless can have also its own wonder; but it does put me at a distance, and to write about this puts you the reader at a further distance; press on.

The works of art may have to be viewed electronically, in the first instance, however I have elected that for each poem about the painting a 'sister' poem about the experience of seeing the painting will be created, the reader having only one degree of distance or separation then from this piece. For the atmospheric experiential poem to be brought to life I would hope to see the art woks in their usual surroundings, but where this is not possible the poem may be written in some relative inspirational place with a copy of the artwork at hand.

The art works will be chosen based on the general popularity, although a part of me (some would say a large part) may like to show off by selecting some relatively obscure or unknown artists the purpose of this piece is intrinsically bound up in the image being widely known, of having been seen already by the reader in fact.

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Lost on a scrap of paper

The wind blows with gusto

It blossoms across the warm garden

If this had been an holiday romance

The loss, or sense of it, would already be upon us

The warm winds of the wet Atlantic

The thrashing storms of Regis seas

Sixpence in the bubble gum machine

A parachute slow hanging from the citrus tree

In joy we seek out our shadows

In sorrow we search for somewhere light

That is why we ride the roller coaster

That is why we catch the magic bus at night

Here in my deckchair; meadow grass, mistletoe

A book of passionate poetry, aglow by the embers

Rapture, slow and slower now

And then to remind me that I ought to remember

To send her my valentine’s vote

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Whatever the cause think on; love binds

A twenty mile view

Tunnels

Through mountains into forests

Burnt out

Charcoal stains, remains of timber houses

With no regret, repercussion or remorse

Except that is

To be near, in a nearby vicinity

A railway siding beside his first and only love

Change

Born of caring, turned into sacrificial conviction

Pressed deep; within the memories of inequality and injustice

The view now without any distance

Funnelled

Through molehills, there always without a florist

Learn, oh please my love

Once again, that life embraced with love

It is she, or he who stops and stoops for one to conquer

Go there then

That is not with a revolver, or as a revolutionary stunt

But with open hand, please take along your once innocent heart

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