#AtoZChallenge ‘J’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘Joy’ #NPM17 #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you two poems, On the Death of Anne Brontë BY CHARLOTTE BRONTË, ‘There’s little joy in life for me’, and ‘There’s Still Joy’ by Luccia Gray- 

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There’s little joy in life for me,

   And little terror in the grave;

I ‘ve lived the parting hour to see

 Of one I would have died to save.

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Calmly to watch the failing breath,

Wishing each sigh might be the last;

Longing to see the shade of death

O’er those belovèd features cast.

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The cloud, the stillness that must part

The darling of my life from me;

And then to thank God from my heart,

To thank Him well and fervently;

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Although I knew that we had lost

The hope and glory of our life;

And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,

 Must bear alone the weary strife.

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More about Charlotte Bronte here

This poem was written in response the death of Charlotte Bronte’s sister Anne Brontë, in 1849. Anne’s death was sudden and although all the Brone siblings had ill health, Anne’s death was unexpected and Charlotte was clearly devastated. Charlotte was the eldest of the four surviving Bronte siblings. In 1848 her brother Branwell Bonte died, shortly after, Emily became seriously ill and died of tuberculosis, in December 1848, and Anne died of the same disease in May 1849. I can only imagine how Charlotte must have felt, after her mother and all her siblings had died. In her poem, we can feel her desolation and loneliness.

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I also know what it means to lose your only surviving sister. I’ve written other poems to my sister, this one is inspired by Charlotte Bronte’s poem to Anne Bronte. 

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There’s Still Joy

 

I always knew you’d be a girl.

I heard your cry and ran to see

Your puffed red face and cute fair curls.

At last someone to play with me.

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Too soon you left. No parting kiss,

No words to say our last farewell.

Your hugs forever I will miss,

Your virtues to everyone I’ll tell.

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I wish you could have fought harder.

You gave up your last breath too soon.

Why couldn’t you have spoken louder

The night you saw the last full moon?

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There’s still joy in remembering,

Your face, your voice, your laugh.

But it’s a temporary parting,

Many waters cannot quench love.

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#AtoZChallenge ‘I’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘I, Too’ #NPM17 #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you, I Too, by the great Langton Hughes, and ‘I am the One’ by Luccia Gray.

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I, Too BY LANGSTON HUGHES

I, too, sing America. 

I am the darker brother. 

They send me to eat in the kitchen 

When company comes, 

But I laugh, 

And eat well, 

And grow strong. 

Tomorrow, 

I’ll be at the table 

When company comes. 

Nobody’ll dare 

Say to me, 

“Eat in the kitchen,” 

Then. 

Besides, 

They’ll see how beautiful I am 

And be ashamed— 

I, too, am America.

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Langston Hughes photographed by Carl Van Vechten, 1936.

Such a powerful poem, so concisely and clearly expressed. There’s contained rage, assertiveness, self respect and faith in a just future.

We’ve all come a long way, but it’s an ongoing process.

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My poem is more intimate. It’s also about being assertive and trusting your imagination and creativity to lead you to the right words to express yourself.

I am the One

I am the one

Who watches you smile,

Whose voice you hear sing,

Whose strong words you crave.

I am the one

Who sees your eyes burning,

Who spurs on your yearning,

Whose words you desire.

I am the one

Who holds your slow pen,

Who writes on your blank page,

Whose brave words will save you.

I am the one.

If you find me,

Hold onto my words,

As you fall

Into

The

Abyss.   

****

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#AtoZChallenge ‘H’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘Husband’ #NPM17 #CarrotRanch #FlashFiction

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you, To My Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet.

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If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;

If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me ye women if you can.

I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,

Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.

Thy love is such I can no way repay;      

The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.

Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,

That when we live no more we may live ever.

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I’ve always felt Anne Bradstreet, 1612 – 1672, probably the first published poet, writing in English, who lived in the American colonies, has been largely undervalued and even ignored in literary histories.

This is one of her loveliest poems, which takes the form of rhyming couplets, neatly representing the married couple’s love and symbiosis right from the first two lines by rhyming ‘we’ with ‘thee’.

The poem has many modern aspects. For example, their love comes across as a joint endeavour, in which neither are subservient and each have their role. The idea that money isn’t everything and it can never replace love and happiness is refreshing and shared by most 21st century citizens. I think it’s amazing that it was written 400 years ago. Priceless.

More on Anne Bradstreet here 

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For my own poem, today I’ve also added a third challenge, Carrot Ranch, weekly Flash Fiction Challenge based on a 99 word prompt. My contribution to this Flash fiction challenge, organised by the wonderfully supportive and inspiring Charli Mills. is based on today’s prompt, the creation myth, which in my case, also deals with ‘husbands’.

A lighthearted look at creation and the roles assigned to men and women, or husbands and wives. Sadly, not a lot has changed since ‘Adam and Eve’. ‘Eve’s Husband’, by Luccia Gray.

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Eve’s Husband

God created Adam, first,

‘Twas Eve’s fault that they were cursed.

Her search for knowledge paid the price

Of ousting them from paradise.

Adam did as he was told,

While Eve, she was very bold.

The husband obedient and good,

The wife complained as ever she could.

Man acted like a demigod,

Made in likeness to his only God.

While his wife was the family builder,

Her husband became the tribal leader,

Pillaging the earth and devastating

What God took six days in creating.

In spite of this some still believe

It’s women’s fault that man doth grieve.

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#SilentSunday ‘Plotting, but I wish I were a pantser’ #amwriting

Plotting is driving me mad!

Why can’t I be a pantser?

I think I’ll stop for a cup of tea, although what I need is a glass of wine!

Thursday Photo Prompt #WritePhoto #NationalPoetryMonth The Haunted Castle #amwriting #poem

This poem was written in response to Sue Vincent’s weekly Thursday Photo Prompt. Check out Sue’s wonderful blog for more information.

The Haunted Castle

She stood the test of time,

Towering proudly on the summit,

Watching over the raging sea,

Howling in the wind, ‘Come back!’

Convinced he must obey her,

The Queen of the haunted castle,

Terrified the travellers who dared

To venture through the ancient arch.

‘I’ll stay in my mighty castle,

Till the stones have ground to dust,

And the seas have all gang dry,

My love, I’ll wait till the end of time.’

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#AtoZChallenge ‘G’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘The Gift’ #NPM17 #SOCS #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today, I’m adding a third challenge, The first part of today’s post is stream of consciousness, following Linda G. Hill’s weekly prompt, using the word “give/given/giving.”  Following part is a beautiful poem about giving gifts, called A Blade of Grass, by Brian Patten, and the final part is a poem I wrote recently but I’ve tweaked for this post, called The Gift.

Giving a gift is a privilege. It means you have someone you love to give the present to and a special occasion to celebrate. I love giving and receiving gifts. The whole process of giving is special, choosing, buying or preparing, and finding the perfect moment to give the special present we have bought.

Every time I think of gifts, I think of the beautiful poem by Brian Patten about how difficult it can become to give and receive simple, inexpensive gifts.

A Blade of Grass

You ask for a poem.

I offer you a blade of grass.

You say it is not good enough.

You ask for a poem.

I say this blade of grass will do.

It has dressed itself in frost,

It is more immediate

Than any image of my making.

You say it is not a poem,

It is a blade of grass and grass

Is not quite good enough.

I offer you a blade of grass.

You are indignant.

You say it is too easy to offer grass.

It is absurd.

Anyone can offer a blade of grass.

You ask for a poem.

And so I write you a tragedy about

How a blade of grass

Becomes more and more difficult to offer,

And about how as you grow older

A blade of grass

Becomes more difficult to accept.

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As I often do, I’ve credited and reworked an original work of art, to express what I’m feeling at this moment.

The Gift

You ask for a star

I offer you a flower.

You say it’s not enough.

I say this flower will do.

It’s unique, perfect for you.

You say it is too easy

To offer a flower.

So I write you a poem

About how a flower

Is so easy to give

And so hard to accept.

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#FridayFictioneers The Victorian House #FlashFiction

It’s Friday, time for another Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction story with adorable and creative Alice, her incredulous and conventional parents, Marsha and Kevin, and her best friend, Billy. Today, we’ll be going back to Alice’s large country house with Billy. I hope you like this new episode!

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting the challenge, and Jellico’s Stationhouse for today’s photo prompt, which led me directly to this weeks’ 100-word story.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jellico’s Stationhouse

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The Victorian House

‘Look at this rusty old bike,’ said Billy.

‘Let’s find the cloth and clean it,’ said Alice.

‘It needs more than cleaning.’

‘If we rub it with the magic cloth it’ll take us wherever we want to go!’

They searched all over the greenhouse and garden, until the afternoon slipped into sunset, but there was no sign of the cloth.

Billy hit the light switch in the porch.

‘No electricity,’ said Alice. ‘It’s a Victorian house.’

‘You live without electricity?’

‘I don’t live here.’

‘You lied?’

‘I didn’t lie. I come alive here. It’s where I write my stories.’

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All my ‘Alice’ flash fiction written for the Friday Fictioneers Challenge can be read as standalones, but if you’re interested in reading previous stories of Alice’s adventures, here  they are!

 If you’d like to join in Friday Fictioneers or read other posts check Rochelle’s Blog for rules and prompts. 

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#AtoZChallenge ‘F’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘Funeral Blues’ #NPM17 #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you two sorrowful poems, Funeral Blues, By W. H. Auden, which is a poem about sorrow and mourning due to the loss of a loved one, and Fifty-One, which I wrote in October 2014, when my sister would have celebrated her 51st birthday.

Fifty-One

You would have been 51 today.

I would have phoned.

You would have said ‘Hi, Lil!’

We would have chatted,

And laughed, and gossiped.

Hours later,

‘I would have said, ‘Bye, El!’

It would have been so special.

Nobody else would have understood

Our made-up language,

Our private jokes,

Our childhood fears,

Our secret dreams…

I wouldn’t have written this poem with brine,

If you hadn’t ripped a piece of my heart

When you left.

If you hadn’t been unlawfully killed,

You would have been 51 today.

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Funeral Blues / Stop All the Clocks

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, 
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

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Check out an analysis of the poem here  and more information on Auden here. 

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#IWSG #AtoZChallenge @TheIWSG #amwriting #WWWBlogs

This post was written in response to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group monthly (first Wednesday of every month) blog hop to where writers express thoughts, doubts and concerns about our profession.

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world! Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG

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April 5 Question: Have you taken advantage of the annual A to Z Challenge in terms of marketing, networking, publicity for your book? What were the results?

This is my third year taking part in the AtoZ challenge. My first year 2015 featured an author spotlight and a book review every day. It was exhausting, but I planned well ahead and it worked out perfectly. If you want to check it out here it is.

Last year, my theme was All About Jane Eyre, and I didn’t complete the challenge. I think it was because I didn’t plan ahead enough, and the posts themselves were demanding and time-consuming to research and write. If you want to check it out here it is.

This year, I wasn’t sure if I’d be taking part, because I hadn’t planned anything, but I’ve been inspired to write a lot of poetry in the last few months, and it occurred to me, more or less on the spur of the moment, to write a poem a day. However, I needed some kind of prompt, and I thought I could use another poem written by my favourite poets, include it in the post too, and use it as a prompt for my own poem.

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge. I’ve more or less planned the famous poems and poets I’m including, but I haven’t yet written my own poems, that’s the real challenge. I’m not always inspired. I may have bitten more than I can chew… Here are my first posts so far.

In the past two years I met a lot of people doing the challenge, hopping around the linkys and on twitter, but this year, without the linky, and having to do a complex (for me) process to comment and activate my wordpress link, it all seems much more of a hassle, and I haven’t checked out many other bloggers. I’m mostly following the AtoZ posts of those I’m already following. I haven’t noticed many new followers, although it’s early days yet, I suppose, but I’m not sure it’s going to work as well, at least not for wordpress blogs. I aim to keep taking part in any case, because I enjoy the challenge.

My posts aren’t directly related to my books, and although my books are visible in my posts, I haven’t observed more sales in April. In fact, although I love my blog and interacting with other bloggers,  I’m not really sure if my blog actually sells any books, but it’s part of an author platform I need to maintain, and I suppose it’s publicity for my books, but that’s not the main reason I carry on blogging.

My reasons for blogging are to meet and interact with other writers, learn more about and improve my craft, and provide the outlet I need for my creativity. I’m also keen on sharing information about literature in general and Jane Eyre and Victorian literature, which is my passion.

Rereading the post, it sounds like more of a stream-of-consciousness rant than an IWSG post, but that’s where the question has led me.

What about you, how has taking part in the AtoZ helped you as a writer?

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#AtoZChallenge ‘E’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘The Eagle’ #NPM17 Alfred, Lord Tennyson

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you just one poem, because it’s the most perfect poem ever written in the English language and there’s no way any other poem can be placed alongside the The Eagle, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Six lines and thirty-nine words were never so full of powerful language and literary history.

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

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The Eagle is a perfect poem. It’s a Riddle, a kenning, and it contains the dramatic use of assonance and alliteration, which is so representative of Old English / Anglo-Saxon poetry. It is composed of two, three line rhyming stanzas with eight syllables per line.

The repetition of the plosive ‘d’ and ‘k’ sound gives the flash poem force and unity. Curiously, few of the words in my poem have Latin origin. The acoustic power of Old English strikes through.  The effect is sharp and forceful, the rhythm makes us almost see the eagle, who finally falls at our feet.

Tennyson’s poems taught me the power of words. Tennyson recovered awareness of the strength of Old English, which had been softened by the influence of Latin, (mainly through the imposition of French after the Norman invasion of 1066), and reminded us of the power of the essence of the English language and its roots in Old English, where alliteration (repetition of consonant sounds), and assonance (repetition of vowel sounds), kennings (Old English type of metaphor), imagery, and symbolism were frequently used as literary devices to shock our brains into understanding intangible, ethereal feelings.

 Hear Andrew Motion read some of Tennyson’s poems.

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