Rather Ambitious.

The Sestina. A very complex scaffold upon which to build a poem. Far too detailed for me to go into but The Poetry Foundation describes it thusly:

Sestina | The Poetry Foundation

It is ambitious of me and I wouldn’t have been able to do this without a ready reckoner of some sort and in this its Stephen Fry’s “The Ode less Travelled” which is brilliant. If you like poetry and wish to understand it better or even, heaven forfend, start writing your own then its as good a start as you’re going to get. Anyway…

Why Bother?

Who could be bothered writing poetry?

In any case, who these days has the time?

It takes time and patience and commitment

And that’s just to read, never mind write.

Is this just a waste of my time and yours?

Maybe so, but is that such a bad thing?

Time taken for yourself is a Good Thing

And you could do worse than to read poetry

So have a moment, exclusively yours

And don’t place any limits on your time.

This poem took time and effort to write

All I ask is a little commitment.

Words offered in exchange for commitment

I know that I’m asking for no small thing

What I offer took days and weeks to write

I hope that it passes for poetry

and you don’t feel like I’ve stolen your time

The one thing that is exclusively yours.

So from my mind, through my pen and to you

And for ten minutes of commitment

On your part, which isn”t really much time

I present to you this word laden thing

A rough and ready go at poetry

That needs a ready reckoner to write.

Why do I feel the need to sit and write

Has it ever entered that mind of yours

To question why people write poetry

What kind of mind would make this commitment

Who would do such an unusual thing

Which will take but not return your time.

For me it is no waste of effort or time

If you want to be good at writing, write.

There is no substitute, no other thing.

Time and effort decisions are just yours

And so is the level of commitment

If you want to be good at poetry.

How you spend your time is a choice that’s yours.

I use mine to write and make commitment

To this silly thing I call poetry,.

Self-improvement

This one contains a few top-shelf sweary words. If you’re offended by profanity then have a word with yourself and grow up.

Self improvement

I’m thinking.

I’m thinking about ways to improve me.

I think I’ll begin by telling more cunts

To fuck off.

Already

I begin to feel a little better about me.

The thought of telling more cunts to fuck off

Sparks much joy

Extra poem from “Writing the Irish Landscape with Ruby Free” Saturday 8th Aug 2026

Forty Steps

Down to the shorefront.

Take a moment to look at the lough.

See Strangford on the other side

As the boat to’s and fro’s its passengers.

Turn right. There’s a field.

Beside that a path leads up to

A turnstile. Go over this and walk

Up what we here call “The Forty Steps”.

The path meanders.

Trees wall either side of the path.

Flowers bloom. Birds sing. Then we see an arch.

We can use this fallen oak as a bench.

Let’s just sit here

And be here now with each other.

We can let the outside world be for now

And enjoy this forgotten patch of Eden.

Starts and Beginnings: Week 2

Week 2 of my poetry course invited us to consider hate. Have a rant, get it out but try to consider a positive or positives that could be wrought from it.

Of course I went meta and tackled hate itself.

Hate.

Uncontrolled hate is a dangerous thing.

It will eat you alive from the inside.

Hate distorts truth and distrusts everything.

It can fill your head with poisonous lies.

Hate can shine a light on what makes you tick

If you can calmly observe it at work.

You will soon see that your minds being tricked

And destroy shadows where your demons lurk.

Hate is a poison with one antidote,

The universal panacea love.

This relief may bring a lump to your throat

And more freedom than you could have dreamed of.

Starts and Beginnings.

I have started a Poetry Writing Course being ran by the Crescent Arts centre in Belfast and is being facilitated by Stephen de Burca. I am thoroughly enjoying being in a space with other like-minded people. Every week we are given prompts and asked to write something. I do write every day but it rarely has a focus or a plan.

Week one. Write a Haiku about each of the seasons:

Spring:
Daffodils Blossom.
Lambs leap and bleat in fields.
The sun gently shines.  
Summer:
Air conditioning
Is not something that we here
Thought we’d ever need  
Autumn:
Red, yellow and brown
Make a carpet for the ground.
Dogs are delighted.  
Winter:
Footprints in fresh snow.
Icy projectiles surprise
Any who come near.  

I’m quite content with those.

Let’s get this thing back on the road

OK I have hmm’d and haa’d but most importantly I have Paid for this site so I am going to start using it.

The same loose collection of things that pop into my head but I have lately become a lot more focussed on poetry with specific reference to Poetry born here.

I am as comfortable with Chaucer, Shakespeare and Dante as I am with Heaney, Mahon and Kavanagh. I have a particular preference for poetry in my accent and that could well be the focus of this whatever this is. They used to be called blogs, didn’t they?