Tagged: Poetry
Meme 2
Latin puppets.
Latin puppets.
The Narcissi group like
Latin crosses toward the
Pavilion. Incantations
In their guts- fanning flames
Of a dormant sun.
A rhythmic action,
Made of each
Life that loved them once.
As an omen of spring;
A calling stone, yellow
Inks draining to secret doors.
Stalks beside stalk—
A procession of promises
Unkept.
The grass is scribbling,
The ash buds bloody black.
A good beginning
To things moving everywhere.
The security guard, paces toward a
Real door, then slows,
Stops, decides there maybe work
Waiting within and chooses to give the
Grounds another leisurely circuit.
No one knew he was there,
No one saw how close he got,
To pressing his shoulder against the door
And turning the handle,
Nick J Wood
Sea sores 2018.
Meme 1.
Exstract from a long poem called Whale mantle, within the collection of Seasores.
My book is published (But what happens next?).
It’s been a long while coming, many months and years of work to bring my debut collection into the world. The process of writing, compiling and editing has been a long and largely enjoyable process. Yet it has always felt like a splinter than needed to be pulled from within me, an irritation that would not cease until Sea sores was out in the world.
I’m proud of the book, it is as I imagined a representation of me heartfelt and rooted in my life and home city Brighton. Now the anti-climax of publication, after you have climbed this sizeable summit to actually have your book out there you are then confronted by a whole new set of peaks and find a crowd of fellow writers, bloggers, poets trying to asail to their heights ahead of you.
How to stand out? It could be the strength of your writing but I’ve read a great many famous insta poets who’s work would seem closer to the self help genre than the poet. I respect their success but at the same time I can’t seem to be dissuaded that there is something unoriginal about 95% of what is on instagram. The popularity of some very famous instagram poets seem closer to the adoration given by teenage girls to boy bands. The music may be terrible but they have found their market and are making a lot of money out of that rich teenage angst seam.
So this blog will be about my publication ‘sea sores’ but also about the process of moving forward, growing the readership, scratching my head in sentences about what next for a struggling author.
I truely look forward to going on this journey with you and sharing equally in your journey, after all we seem to be aiming at a similar summit, so it’s worth helping each other along the way.
Between a throne and a hard place.
A man is capable of so much but often does so little. Too often he dies a death of a thousand inconsequential tasks. Every man knows something about himself that no other soul will, and it is this, that torments him, what drives him to drink, into self destruction, depression and sabotages relationships. Men pretend the ‘what he earns’ or the ‘what he believes in’ has some meaning.
Occasionally someone does slip through the net, achieving all that they were capable of. Westand there gazing at our brother or sister in wonder, we write books about them and remember their deeds in histories, but they were little different from you or I; they just made a leap of faith, with a little more guts, at the right time and had a little more luck, they just didn’t mind falling on their face as much as the rest of us.
Perhaps realising before it was too late, that the pointless activities filling our lives take up about as much time and effort to achieve, as the greater goals would, therefore between the two, it is easier to see that if this train is always going the same way, they might as well risk riding on the roof.
