Hellooo, just got back from Emma Decent’s night in Todmorden, Magic Words, was very inspiring stuff. Tried reading my sunflower blues poem on open mic, it was fun to read but made me realise my line length is wrong for the pace of it, so may have to edit it some. It’s strange writing a poem a day, cuts down on the editing time so it feels like my editing brain is suspended. These poems get maybe three edits and then are up! Deadlines are less than a week away for my essays now as well, the pressure!
Poem I wrote for the Monday just gone, not as celebratory as Angela Smith’s rainy poem unfortunately!
There was a trumpet player on a rainy Monday street
Homeless trumpet player on a rainy Monday street
Playing like it was news with a hat by their feet,
Playing like it was fresh bread a sound could deliver
Fresh baked bread a sound could deliver
Tooting and pealing as if it’d save the weather.
A man with a Polish accent just outside
Sainsbury’s, just outside Sainsbury’s he’s asking for change
I give him thirteen pence and thank you, lady, he says.
There’s a taxi I’ll get into in this puddling rain
A black one with the windows up in this pelting rain,
It’ll take me straight home where the rooms are just the same
As when I left, not a thing has changed,
I go out and come back, and everything’s the same;
The windows are closed; the sky is full of pain.