First reader feedback

I had the privilege the other day of receiving my first reader feedback for the first half of Greater Matter. So many questions now to tackle! Is my natural bent for occasional 'archaic' usage and, indeed, behaviour - which I tend towards in moments of intimacy and/ or crisis, and which is therefore never publicly seen ... unless glimpsed now and then, through these poems - something to be true to or something to censor, that is to say, alter, in the service of what readers expect of or can relate to in a 'contemporary' woman - such as I, in my heart of hearts, am not?

The feeling of soul straddling eternity, but body bound to one here and now ... and yet even that, not. Mind in this body is capable of so much movement between places and times. Is it that my poems simply don't adequately yet convey this?

Is 'unnatural' (Germanic/ Old English) syntax such as I spoke in my most extreme moments to God as well as to Norman in crisis something to share with readers, or will it simply cause them bewilderment?

What IS quality writing? WHOSE standards do I apply?

How can this record of my journey best help the greatest number of people in need of such help?

And I thought I could complete this manuscript by March this year! :-D

Safe, Honeymoon Suite, Outeniqua Moon

I've been, yet again, spoiled by my friends, Christine and Peter Watt of Outeniqua Moon Percheron Stud Farm in Ruiterbos at the foot of the Robinson Pass. These pictures show a little of their sanctuary. The poem appeared this morning, following a visit to Shadowfax and Greystoke, the farm's two stallions.

Safe
Honeymoon Suite, Outeniqua Moon

Folds of light
stand to attention -
hold the festoon-blinds in place
so dawn can splice
their sleepy silk;

frogs' clickings sprinkle us;
everything is fat with rain -
the very air's drenched in dreams

tongued by the soft lips
of the stallions I spoke to;

their nostrils took in my glove,
their mouths told us
the future has remained -

it has survived into this morning's private gold -
safe from betrayal.

Shadowfax and Greystoke, the two Percheron studs at Outeniqua Moon

Shadowfax and Greystoke

The farmhouse

Shadowfax

Greystoke

Sunset last night

No person can feel always joy ...

Two poems of darkness in a process that is helping me to understand Norman better.

Stepping stones

Third draft of third section done by an all-day fire and mist clouding all but the nearest leaves outside.

Stepping stones to the heffalump

Song for my grandchildren

Song for  my grandchildren with Peace Bowl

... getting there slowly ...

I am very grateful to the kind people who are offering their precious time to read the third draft critically. I look forward to their feedback. 

Otherwise, mulling. Not sure this poem should be in or out ... if in, WHERE? Questions of rhythm, sound echoes, and of course the story step-stepping poem by poem through it all.

  

PS. Totally tangential mull. Why PanMacMillan didn't take on The Griffin Elegy is a puzzle to me. I guess there are simply too many writers and too many stories and too many poems, all of them obviously far more appealing and more saleable than my stuff. Ah well. We soldier on. True to self and all that. I can see I'm going to have to home-birth all my books. What a business. I've experience birthing a human, but a heffalump? Not to rush it. Be tortoise.

Epigraphs from the first hard copy

The first hard copy will, I hope, allow me the necessary detachment for a decent self-edit ...

The 'greater matter' quip derives from an sms exchange; Norman's poem is one of the first Table Love poems.

God's Deciding

Protein

Just a fun clip recording a thought that came to me at the first outdoor fire I've made since Norman died.

Memorial preparations

All the bustle and fuss –

human care and love

as fast as Velcro

– me but the burr,

bad-tempered vegetable

looking for

freedom:

slip me between, Darling,

fetch me to

the leafy silver

of

our breathing.

I post this poem in commemoration of tonight's being the eve of the first memorial service for Norman, held on 5th August 2017 at the Vula Vista Venue at The Edge Mountain Retreat in Hogsback.

It is included in ' Sacred Space', section 3 in Greater Matter as it currently stands (in its second draft).

For the love of noses

This poem emerged in spring last year. I shared it on Facebook at the time, and right now on a whim am letting it sniff my blogsite.