Singing soft chimes under her breath, she
kisses each ear of wheat, borrows
yellow from sunflower petals before
smearing each cloud with evening, takes
indigo from the blackberries, then stops,
not satisfied with her canvas. Sighing, she
grabs a cherry blossom and erases the day
showing the countless stars behind, waiting.
It was an acrostic and pastoral workshop. Working within those constraints was really challenging but really useful. By limiting myself, it challenged the language and patterns I usually fall into when making poetry.
One of the very few advantages of lockdown has been the proliferation of live-streamed poetry events. It means I’ve been able to attend a few more than I would do normally and from a wider area. I took part in an online slam the other day with the hosts based in Swindon, which would be too far for me to go for a night in ordinary life.
It’s a bitter blessing. Nothing beats being in a room with other people but this is the next best thing.