About jaynestanton

Poet, teacher, writer, reader, word art explorer, cat lover, folk fiddler, daydreamer...

A room of one’s own

It’s the end of a very long day.  I’ve spent most of it driving (aprox 150 miles on a succession of unfamiliar motorways and by-roads).  And listening to the Jeremy Vine show on Radio 2 (a kind of Post-Election grand finale of winners and losers).  And discovering that we’ve sold our house but lost the bungalow that ticks all our boxes (yup, another win and loss).

But it was good to sit in the afternoon sun with coffee and cake on the beach front at Criccieth:

imageand arrive at Ty Newydd at long last

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and climb up to a room of my own at the top of the house (Portmeiron) with a view of the sea in the distance

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before exploring the grounds (bumble bees in clover, blue mophead hydrangeas, fuchsia wands dripping with scarlet drop earrings, wind in the sycamores, a gate to a field path, gulls on the thermals, the odd white horse on the sea beyond…)

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before meeting Poetry and Dementia course tutors John Killick and Karen Hayes and fellow participants over a leisurely evening meal followed by an introductory session in the first floor lounge (walls lined with poetry shelves, large bow window with a panoramic view).

It’s after midnight and I’m in a state of wakefulness that’s usual for me on the first night in a strange bed.  After posting this, I may browse between the covers of a poetry collection or three I chose from the shelves downstairs…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Three poems by Jayne Stanton

Delighted that three poems about my late father from my pamphlet, ‘Beyond the Tune’, have found a new readership on the Good Dadhood site, thanks to Sharon Larkin. While you’re there, do check out poems by other poets in this project.

Good Dadhood

…………..

Suave and debonair

your wisecrack
on the hallway mirror’s viewpoint.

Brylcreem-slick, that wayward quiff
has aspirations – think Rock Hudson, Tony Curtis.
Weathered jaw line, razor-tame, Old Spiced.
Laundered shirt, worn
open-necked with the signature cravat,
always paisley, burgundy on gold.

Daddy’s girl, my angle’s blind
to a thinning crown, the comb-over;
a weak heart under peacock swagger – and
you’re taller, somehow, out of overalls
in slacks with knife-edge creases down
to spit and polish; hands in pockets
weighing small change possibilities.
You shrug your shoulders
into a houndstooth blazer, square
the broken checks of green and cream;
leather buttons left undone, token casual.

My formative years in toughened hands:
our lifelines grafted, till you learn the art of letting go.


20 Park Drive

Not a classy street address
but those budget smokes he switched
from cardboard box to nickel case

on Thursday nights. He’d posture
at…

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Life after NaPoWriMo

Life (and work) demands have come crashing in, this week.  The house is now ready (or as ready as it’ll ever be) to put on the property market (see previous blog post).  Thursday at midnight saw me stuffing ‘stuff’ into cupboards, clearing surfaces and dusting.  I barely recognise my study!  (See photo below for its usual state of organised chaos).

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NaPoWriMo: the aftermath

I can only hope that the estate agent’s photos do justice to all this hard graft.  Now to keep on top of things, with prospective viewings in mind.  May is my favourite month in the garden.  Everything looks lush and new but brambles, field avens, willow herb and bittercress pop up again as soon as my back’s turned.

Can it really be only one week since the end of NaPoWriMo?  I did manage to stick to writing summat new, daily – usually from a prompt (thanks to Carrie Etter and The Poetry School).  My nightly editing sessions fell by the wayside, though, and I strongly suspect that my best and most fruitful work was produced early on in April.  And I still have pages and notebook pages to go through, at some point.  However, I’m quite pleased with the progress of the 17 poem drafts that did make it onto the PC.

I’ll definitely look to join a NaPoWriMo group next year.  Carrie’s group was an invaluable source of mutual support, inspiration and new-to-me forms and constraints.  I’ll certainly make use of these in future when I’m struggling to get started.

What I’m listening to: ‘Poetry, Pop and Rock ‘n’ Roll’, a two-hour programme recorded for Word Waves on 95.1 FM: three Leicestershire poets – Andrew Button, Maria Taylor and me – reading poems and discussing songs with lyrics that resonate; a kind of Desert Island Discs for poets, you might say.  The links are here and here, if you fancy a listen on Soundcloud (without the song tracks, though, due to copyright).

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Finding poetry in the prose: I’m still reading the Sara Baume novel I mentioned in my last post (I’m either too busy or too tired to do much in the way of reading, at the moment).

Lines I wish I’d written: from Marie Howe’s ‘The Moment’:

Oh, the coming-out-of-nowhere moment

when, nothing

happens

no what-have-I-to-do-today list…

🙂

Out & About: in the garden, today (bramble-wrangling, mainly):

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NaPoWriMo: the home stretch

The sun is shining over the last day of the Leicestershire Easter holidays.  I’ve been sitting by the pond, having forsaken notebook, smart phone and computer screen to compose a poem in my head (see The Poetry School’s Day 23 prompt here).  The cats are gamboling like spring lambs and my husband’s cleaning the kitchen.  There’s poetry and music everywhere, it seems.

What I’m listening to: ‘The Songs & Poems of Molly Drake’ by The Unthanks

Finding poetry in the prose: Sarah Baume’s ‘A Line Made By Walking’

Lines I wish I’d written:

…we arrive here improvised
and leave without the chance to practice

from‘Nothing Twice’ by Wislawa Symborska

and, by way of contrast, most of the lines from Kathryn Maris’ ‘Darling, Would You Please Pick Up Those Books?’ (priceless)

Out & about: a walk amongst the bluebells in Swithland Woods with a friend:

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The Easter holiday’s not been all poetry, music and frolics.  Far from it.  For the past two weeks I’ve been doing DIY and cleaning – LOTS of cleaning.  We’re putting our home of twenty-plus years on the market (we’re down-sizing) so there’s lots to do in readiness for agent’s photos and prospective viewings.  And I’m no domestic goddess.

So participating in NaPoWriMo has been balm when all out of elbow grease.  Thanks to Carrie Etter’s Facebook group, prompts from various sources (see previous blog post) and inspiration in unlikely places (clickbait, Monty Don – and DIY/cleaning), I’ve stuck to writing a poem a day for the first April ever.

I really am grateful to fellow members of Carrie’s group; we’ve kept each other going, I think, with progress/process posts and comments, and I’ve also discovered forms that are new to me (yay for the Golden Shovel and the wealth of prompts, techniques, games and writing generators on Language is a Virus!).

I’ve cultivated a daily routine of new writing early in the day and typing up before bedtime to begin the re-drafting process on-screen (where I can faff about and move stuff around – and still be able to read what I’ve written).  I now have seventeen poem drafts in my new sub folder (*pinches self*) and pages and pages more in my notebook which may get picked over/plundered at some point in the future.  So there are poems with wings and lines with legs (or maybe it’s the other way around – time will tell) and probably some with feet of clay.  At least I haven’t left my initial efforts to languish (I’m mindful of that pile of filled-and-forgottens on a shelf in my study).

There’s one more week to go, which won’t be so easy with the start of term in the offing, but the finishing line’s in sight (and, no, I have’t been watching TV footage of the London marathon 🙂 ).

Whatever you’re doing this fine day, I hope that some of it’s the stuff that makes you feel whole.

x

 

NaPoWriMo: 9 days in

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Yes, it’s that merry month of mayhem: National Poetry Writing Month (adopted by more and more poets across the world, it seems).  How quickly the poetry year doth come around!

To be honest, I hadn’t given taking part any serious thought, this year, until Pam Thompson asked if I’d like to be added to Carrie Etter’s NaPoWriMo Facebook group.  I admit I wasn’t too keen, at first.

Previous experience in write-to-a-prompt groups runs something like this: a battery of poems posted hot on the heels of the daily/weekly prompt, followed by a barrage of comments/feedback on posted poems, the (self-imposed) ‘pressure to produce’ something (anything!?! omg…).  On bad days, I’m a virtual wallflower (I was that teenager.  I still hate parties with discos) with an acute attack of Imposter Syndrome.  All this, on a repeat cycle.  The end result: a feeling of ‘Oh, I may as well quit right now…’

The purpose of Carrie’s group is general support, comments on prompts and progress so far.  Poems are not posted (yay!).  Before the month got underway, members were asked to post their one inspirational poem by another poet.  I really liked this idea and enjoyed  discovering poems/poets new to me.

Carrie’s list of 30 prompts appears as a pinned post on the group page.  I’ve printed it off; it’s propped on my desk, along with a month of poetry prompts by Jo Bell, and one or two others.  Just in case I can’t get out of the starting blocks.  And the group’s 137 members seem, like me, to be going about things their own way.  Some are writing to Carrie’s prompts in order, some are choosing ones from the list that spark ideas that day, others (like me) are mixing and matching – or even combining – prompts from different sources, and there are posts about poems that come into being without a prompt.  (I happened upon a blinder of an opening line from clickbait in an email notification the other day).

Some members have different agendas, this month.  For instance, John Foggin isn’t following prompts but is using material from his notebooks to write the poems he feels compelled to write; Rachel Davies is using some of the prompts to add to her sequence of mother-daughter poems as part of her PhD.

Group posts are a real mixture of progress, process, other useful prompts, everyday life as help and hindrance, etc, etc.  These are inspiring in themselves.  And motivational, too.  We’re all doing our own thing.

I’m finding this freeing.  I’m growing a habit of daily writing, even writing first thing in the morning (well, after feeding the cats and making up my breakfast bowl) as opposed to, or some days as well as, my default late evening/night writing.

Not all my efforts have mileage as poems, but there might be lines, phrases, or the odd word to plunder as some point in the future.  That brings me to my next point: what of that accumulation of notebooks I haven’t gone back to for some time now?  They exist as a regular niggle at the back of my mind.  So this month, in addition to The Daily Write in my notebook (no special NaPoWriMo one, just the one that’s currently on the go; no special pen or pencil, just the usual cheapie) I’m typing up and beginning to re-draft the ones I think have possibilities.  To date, there are six poems-in-progress in a new sub folder.  Nine days in, I’m doing okay.

If you’re writing a poem a day, this month, I’d love to hear how you’re going about things via the comments box below.

Happy writing! 🙂

‘The Best’ weekend

It’s been one of those weeks when everyone (including our elderly cat, poor boy) has wanted an extra piece of me – mostly in a good way, I hasten to add. This weekend has been a full-on music-poetry combo, and sensible folk might have opted for a lazy Sunday, in readiness for another week at the chalkface (at end of an over-long spring term).  But I rarely take the sensible option (as those who know me – er, know) and ‘life is short’ is a maxim I live by (see previous post here). And there was absolutely no way I was going to miss the Eyewear launch of The Best British & Irish Poets 2017 anthology.

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I couldn’t have ordered better weather for a London jolly. With time to kill before the event, I walked from Brixton station to The Windmill in warm sunshine, sporting varifocal sunglasses and minus a cardie.  The early birds amongst us then sat outside until the bar opened (my, it was nightclub-dark in there).

Eyewear’s Todd Swift ably steered us through the afternoon, keeping pretty much to time considering this involved cajoling everyone back inside at the end of each brief break in proceedings.

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Todd Swift at the mic

Luke Kennard spoke about judging the 900 or so entries and read some of his recent work, including a ‘Brexit morning’ poem and finishing with one from ‘Cain.’  It was good to talk to Robin Houghton, say hi to Jill Abram and exchange a few words with other contributors in between readings.  And Luke Kennard talked poetry and life stuff with me as I rested on a bar stool after a long stint of standing.  And he said nice things about my poem.

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Luke Kennard

I chose to listen/watch rather than follow poems on the page during readings.  I particularly enjoyed Alan Buckley’s ‘Miracle’ for its arresting images and its delivery, Niall Bourke’s ‘Marbletown’ for its satirical humour, and Jessica Mookherjee’s ‘Vernal Equinox’.  There’s a real range of subjects and styles in the anthology to enjoy reading at my leisure.

The anthology is available from Eyewear Publishing for £10.99.  To purchase (and browse the other publications, while you’re there), click here.

Before catching my train back to Leicester, I met my youngest sister for a catch-up over a bite to eat – serendipitous that we both happened to be in London for the day. We hadn’t seen each other in over three years! When did life become so busy…?

Having typed most of this on the train journey home, I’m finishing and posting this on Monday morning. After a much-needed early night!

It’s Official

I will be retiring from my teaching post at the end of the summer term

  • because I’m increasingly bone- and brain-tired, these days, and both are taking longer to recover from my oh-so-fortunate-to-be-only Monday-Wednesday work days
  • because I’d like to truly enjoy my newly-restored hip health
  • because life is short – and sometimes far shorter than expected (family, friends)
  • because time is precious and I’d like more choice over how I spend it and with whom
  • because age is just a number but we are getting older (and so are our grandchildren – who were babies only last year, it seems)
  • because this all-or-nothing personality would like to make a serious attempt at achieving a workable balance between passions and interests (those who know me well are laughing already!)
  • because variety might bring new and exciting fruits to the writing table
  • because I’d like my creative ‘mojo’ back
  • because I’d like to learn to give myself permission (on the odd day) to do very little – or nothing at all
  • because I have a choice
  • because I’m oh-so-fortunate to have a choice
  • because [this one varies]

My decision to retire early and manage the gap (I’m trying to remain optimistic it won’t lengthen) between now and State Pensionable age is the result of much soul-searching (I had thinking time whilst on sick leave last autumn), interrogation of our income and expenditure (facing a few home truths) as well as considering how and where we want to live in the very near future.

It’s exciting and scary by turns.

In the meantime, I’m growing a Wish List – that is exciting!