The Pass – By Paul Holland (Again)

 

Read Full Post »

Ginger Rimmed (By Paul Holland – Again)

The Sea’s waves

Fat

Heavy with the Moon’s oily light

Moon glow seaside Bundoran

Ginger rimmed

Caked in winter’s corona of cloudy night

The town glows too

From above seen

The waves take on the pores

Of skin swept sea

All held firm this

Extra

Given

Night

Read Full Post »

Moving Stones (By Paul Holland – Again)

Five hares on a morning field

Five ways to wake early

To glorious sunshine.

Spring’s clocks springing forward

Bringing me stumbling out early across the yard

My myopic squintings

Saluting the sun.

To be

Startled at the springing forward of the hares,

At their desperate hurtling away

And them disappearing into the back bog.

From where I was never to see them again.

Binoculars squinting serving only to point out

‘..the difference between a Hare

And a rock in a field?

If you see it move it’s a rock’.

Read Full Post »

How Do Drunk People Get Home? – By Paul Holland

Oh, but how do drunk people get home?
I wonder
But…
How do drunk people get home?
My careening well…
Scars and scurf
And a long whole ago
….that pill in the morning in the clinic
that pill…
Hmm…
But how do drunk people get home?
I met the man with the box of frogs and had occasion to ask him
Feeling that the rain would stay off a while
as I sheltered under his hanging umbrella
He was too busy to answer
Much too busy,
The boxing of frogs and the herding of cats
Taking up
Way way too much of his time!
But it’d come to a pretty pass
If the only weavers of dreams left to us
Were to be the joke of the bank
(Their jokes are cruel)
And the many sellers of smoke
They there
Still there
There in the glam of the threadbare glade.

Read Full Post »

How Do You Write The Sound Of A Bell? – By Paul Holland (Again)

There are deep words that sound
Sound throughout the doings of a day
Working, Running, Cooking
Hillwalking
Can cover them for a spell.
But as a bell  clanging
The tension of the sound carries.
So there are words  there
From behind trees
Around buildings
Along byways
And main  roads.
In places where people gather
And are alone
There
On waking

And at the pause before sleep
For me now the deep sound
And the words
Merge into
The sound of your name
And the answering echo

Calling in my heart’s space
Your name before me.

Read Full Post »

Arts Scene – With Terry Cotter The Potter

 

My name is Terry Cotter. I’m a potter.

I stock a wide range of ceramic goods in my shop The Potter’s Reel here in Lower Swell. The shop is named after my potter’s wheel which goes round and round. Like a reel.

Here are reviews the world they call “Art”.

1. Painting

Sunflowers – VanGogh’s masterpiece – Some flowers in a vase. Don’t like vases. I Prefer Urns. More hygenic. Vince cut his ear off. That must have smarted.

2. Movies

Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid – A western set in the west.  Gary Numan is in it. Goes on a bit. Has that song about raindrops on his bonce.

3. Music

Chopin’s Polonaise in A flat major – There’s a bit that goes plinky,plinky, plinky plonk, plonk. After that it goes down hill.

4. Literature

Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky – A Russian bloke commits a crime and is punished for it. Goes on a bit.
Village News

The mime festival will take place by the counter in the Post Office next Wednesday. Thanks to Jeff Smegly for the face paint.

‘Til next time – The Wheel Keeps On Turning!

TCTP

Read Full Post »

Stan the Man – By Paul Holland

You hear me

Then heed me!

And other nights of his dinner

Hitting the wall.

To be picked up and eaten with fingers

Namm namm….

 

Two brothers would be wise enough to be offside

My sister and I instead too damn like him to cower

A younger one, God love her

Never concerned him enough to talk to

Nor to pick on

Just the odd stray snarl

Of the beast caged in dark bars

Our Mum always a target

 

Try not to antagonise him as he’d maybe pick on someone else

Seeing your family suffer being much worse than

Being under the Dull Stupid Bloody lash

Of his forked tongue

 

You damn fool

We were your kin

While you were digging out

All we wanted was that you dug in

When they dug the hole for your ashes

Who of us there could pray

‘Our Father who art in heaven…..’

That first line had us all stumped

 

But I know it’s either

‘Love or destruction’

In this life we do get to struggle and to choose

 

Read Full Post »

Morning – By Paul Holland (Again)

Bluebell frillary

Shoots of Barley on the hillcrest field

Wet dripping barbed wire

Silver slivers of cold Spring light

Through a disorder of branches

A palette  of greens

Smatterings of shade

Brown muddy boots

And from everywhere

Birdsong

Read Full Post »

Brontes Country – By Paul Holland

I’m Squinting

With my glasses lost again

But I know enough to be struggling to see

God,but will I ever stop the drink

Once and for all?

 

Today I saw a Belfast man

Marching the road

Collarete on in the sun

The traditional

Tribal triumph

Seen in his swagger and away of shoulders.

 

But this is Spain

And the collarete was Instead ONCE

(Organización National de Ciegos España)

Tickets

Orange and yellow tickets to be sold

Their luck tacked to his waistcoat.

His swagger and away

Sadly as a result of the twisted racking cracking

Of his body’s being.

It spent moving

His spine choked frame in the ways of his days

Him I squinting saw

Not him then

Thran

With the self blinded

Hurray of the Cyclops.

 

Last time at home

A fella:

Brother to one in the company

Complained to the slow barman

-I’ll get you done!

But the bar was packed

And the barman

(Who I too, thought slow)

Was having none of his old craic.

 

-Get me done?

He hollered

-Get me done?

-You can fuck off,

Yer barred!

 

Old Belfast bashing

Hard man against the new.

The silence of naked fear

That such a statement

might once have entailed

Bloody death or at least a beating

Was gone

The bouncer gleefully bounced the

Soul scarred, jail tattooed poor twerp

Drinkless

Out into the night.

Read Full Post »

What Am I Working On?

Hello,

I avoid getting involved in round robin memes as it feels oxymoronic for a blog that celebrates the absurd and nonsensical to explain itself in anyway.

However, I was invited by the wonderful Kathryn Grid at art colored glasses to talk about my writing. This is a different story. Because Kathryn is wonderful. Plain and simple. She has a clarity of thought and writing style that explains why this blogging lark is so enjoyable. Whether it be poetry, art, photography or beautifully written pieces about modern-day life I always find her insights enjoyable.

I am late with this exercise, partly because I was in heavy training for a half marathon, partly because the PC required the brawny yet caring hands of Trevor the ‘puter repair man (scuppering a few sausageifications I might add) but mostly due to inertia.

So apologies Kathryn for missing your deadline!

The rules of the process are that I answer four questions about how I write and nominate three others.

What am I working on at the moment?

I am putting the finishing touches to a set of stories all written on trains and have finally prepared the skeleton for a novel which will consume me for years to come.

I am also through Gingerfightback seeking to get “Nonsense with a purpose” included into the political lexicon of Britain in time for the General Election in 2015.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

No idea.

I concentrate on writing good stories with engaging characters that makes the reader want to get to the end of the story.

Why do I write what I do?

It is the way my brain works. I have an aversion to long windedness. Flowery writing drives me potty. Cherish words – don’t waste them.

How does my writing process work?

Notepad and pen. Always scribbling. Arrows and balloons. Get the narrative and then characterisation (my handwriting is so abysmal that the transfer to the screen is a slow and expletive laden process). Once I am happy with the structure, rewrite the thing. Remove excessive words. Rewrite. Third or fourth draft I might be happy with. Probably not so rewrite with the aim of removing more words.

I am a morning person.

And now, I nominate these three writers to participate in a Writing Process Blog Meme:

I nominated the people below because;

• I have enjoyed reading their work
• They hail from the British Isles
• Their work covers adult and children’s literature and also poetry

Jackie @ http://barbedwords.wordpress.com/

Holly Anne @ http://hollyannegetspoetic.wordpress.com

JD @http://jdgallagher.wordpress.com

If you accept my nomination, please write an article prompted by the following four questions and post it on your blog sometime in the future. You’ll also nominate three writers of your choice to post their articles on their blogs again at sometime in the future. The four questions are;

What am I working on at the moment?

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Why do I write what I do?

How does my writing process work?

Don’t worry if you don’t want to do it!

Read Full Post »