I’ve been working on some poetry, lately. I know this isn’t a startling revelation, but I’m quite pleased with how these particular poems are shaping up. One was inspired by the memory of my first scan in pregnancy. I was struck by the sonographer’s words ‘everything you see on the screen is bone . . .’ and this led me to my opening line: ‘When they tell you, your baby is bone.’
The second poem is one I wrote shortly after moving house. It focuses on the moving process – the key pieces that immediately find a place, and the jumble of other possessions that slowly spread into the house: ‘If I unpack each box, make its contents belong, this house will feel like velvet.’ Perhaps I’m doing it wrong, but I always find moving house to be an incredibly chaotic experience, which mirrors personal feelings of being uprooted and losing a sense of security.
The blow has been softened a little, this time, due to the fact that this home is one we have been working on for years. It is already familiar and all the interior features, such as flooring, wall colour, kitchen units and bathroom suite were chosen by us.
In turn, these new poems have chosen me, claimed me with words that I can’t ignore, that I ache to write down. Poetry dominates my thoughts and seems to be leading me onwards, to a place where my work will hopefully be read by more people. I recently had a poem accepted by Crannog Magazine, a Galway based publication, (for those who don’t know it), with an excellent reputation. I have been invited to read my poem at the launch (cue baby-sitting dilemma)! This has encouraged me to continue sending out work, as I build upon my writer’s CV and enjoy working with language, with imagery and rhythm.