Interlude

The rain, forecast yesterday but driven by gales which had arrived overnight, had blown most of the leaves out of sight along with the remains of the summer. It was autumn now and the water table was rising, turning the dips in the fields into pools of marshland where tufts of couch grass reached up through the water like drowning fingers waving in the wind. He found a dry place to sit on a mound between the roots under a tree at the edge of the field. His head was like sheet music, the black notes and beats formed a rhythm that was interrupted only by a string of birdsong that unravelled across the morning as the clouds swept past. He had no idea where the tune had come from – the composition had its own agenda – and the chords struck a new key, one locked away in a layer of his subconscious that he didn’t visit very often. He closed his eyes and as the gales returned a fresh refrain blew in across the fields.

© Diane Becker 2008/09

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Goldfish Press

Two poems, Persistence of Memory and At the End of the Promenade accepted for the forthcoming Goldfish Press anthology, The World According to Goldfish.

A huge thanks to Debra Marler!

Googling analogies. 17200 results in sea …

Googling analogies. 17200 results in search of a simile for hissing like… something less cliched than snakes. Found some interesting comparisons.

Hissing like:

Liberals / a cat / a banshee / an ex-wife / a rabid dog / a mother / a can of spray paint / a bad connection / hedgehogs / a live wire / angry goose / deflating inner tube / soil leaking through a coffin lid / a gas leak / a wild man / a bewildered orchestra / a steam valve / a dying tiger / radiostatic / the sea / a jungle in summer / the wings of a gnat / rain on the pavement / the flow of electricity / a landscape of toads / a demon / wet fuses / rotting garbage / vampires

The pleasure of using analogies it appears, is ‘interestingly subjective …’ however my view is that the only thing that should be ‘hissing like an ex-wife’ is an ex-wife; water + fuses = a hissing like wet fuses – and possibly – the sound of someone screaming. Those in favour of analogies have been warned.

Grey sky. Trees still. Cats asleep. Empt …

Grey sky. Trees still. Cats asleep. Empty.
Night night. Sleep well Dad.

Geoffrey Lumb
Born Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, 05 November 1925.
Died Ulverston, Cumbria, 14 February 2009.

Visual inspiration

EmbleyI posted this image on my page at Six Sentences but thought I’d post it here as well. One person said she’d found it  inspiring and asked if I minded if she used it as starting point for a poem. It makes me happy if people want to use my work as visual inspiration.

For me, the act of taking photographs is a way of countering the mental effort of putting words together, I don’t use the resulting photograph as a visual stimulus for my writing. But then I took the photograph, so the image is already imprinted in my memory.

BTW, this photograph isn’t what you might think it is. Any guesses?!