Poetry and Shoes

‘Oh, short on money,
But long on time,
Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine,
And I’m running late,
And I dont need an excuse,
’cause I’m wearing my brand new shoes.’ – Paolo Nutini, ‘New Shoes’.

Yes, I have new shoes – Boots, to be exact. I got these lovely new stomping boots from Evans (bigger calves, wider fit etc etc) and am feeling divinely excited about receiving them in the post. Soon, hopefully (since it’s not by Royal Mail). Evans are doing good with their autumn and winter selection of boots at the moment, by the way. They have a range of different styles and some of them are available in both black and brown.

Today is National Poetry Day, apparently. Poetry is something I find both inspiring and scary – it’s the medium that I find convenient to use to express something, but at the same time have no clue about rhythm, enjambement, types of rhyme and so on. The course I’m doing has a whole part about poetry so I guess I’ll be learning about that quite soon. Sometimes I write poetry that rhymes, sometimes I don’t.

Anyway, as I’ve mentioned before, Carol Ann Duffy is my favourite poet, but I also like various other poems and poets that find their poems ensembled in such anthologies as ‘Poems to Last a Lifetime’ (ed. Daisy Goodwin). Which I like as much as for the photography as the poetry (in the hardback edition).

Sonnet 29 – William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friend’s possessed,

Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 

Leisure – W.H. Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

A Child’s Sleep – Carol Ann Duffy

I stood at the edge of my child’s sleep
hearing her breathe;
although I could not enter there,
I could not leave.

Her sleep was a small wood,
perfumed with flowers;
dark, peaceful, sacred,
acred in hours.

And she was the spirit that lives
in the heart of such woods;
without time, without history,
wordlessly good.

I spoke her name, a pebble dropped
in the still night,
and saw her stir, both open palms
cupping their soft light;

then went to the window. The greater dark
outside the room
gazed back, maternal, wise,
with its face of moon. 

To commence, I’ll leave you with a recent poem I wrote…

London

 

You are a carnival –

A fusion and a melting pot.

Your shape is idiosyncratic;

An interweaving tapestry of old and new.

Your colours blur together,

And I’m dizzy, inspired.

You have an edgy head for business,

But at heart you crave anarchy.

Lit up, sparkling, you take my breath away;

Yet I travel within your rumbling belly every day.

You are a historical giant,

And you lead a youthful dance.

You wrap yourself in the finest culture,

Dripping with diamonds and stamping your heavy duty boots.