halfbakedpoemz

BOOK REVIEW: EARWIG BY BRIAN CATLING Hello. Turn of events. I’ve finished the old A-levels and delightfully have sweet FA to do (well, almost) but am going through a real poetical dry spell. It’s this bloody heatwave! I’ve tried to write- but its all roses are red, violets are blue tripe so, if at first you don’t succeed, stop flipping trying. Instead of mooching about all day on instagram reels, I’ve been mooching about all day with a stack of books from WOB- that’s about 5% more productive, so why not give it an extra 2% and mooch about on my iPad tapping out some reviews.  Anyway, autobiography out of the way, I never thought I’d feel strongly enough about a book to actually write about it of my own volition (No, A-level English does not count) but that was until I came along to this delightful book. At precisely 150 pages, this slender, neat novella is the equivalent of a cat-scratch across the face: sharp, unpredictable, and leaving you to wonder what on earth it was for....

The legs of the synchronised swimmers, Coming up for air simultaneously.  The steady procession of rain, Pooling in the wrinkles of our anoraks. The sliding second hand on mummy’s watch, As time sneaks imperceptibly by. But I was lost in the Victorian railway, Between rising steam and flaked candy paint. Your hand over mine, falling into step, All a model-train memory: The rain The music The air The name Your hand  Your voice- And its sadness, a frequency I was too little to tune in to. From Blogger iPhone client

 I managed to get into drama school, and now meditate on future career prospects. Probably won’t be raking it in for a good while yet. Made up my mind, come to a decision. I need to choose a career, stake my claim for dominion. I could be a rocket scientist, a nuclear physician, I could fizz, buzz and spark as an electrician, A journalist scooping for the latest edition, A private pilot, spewing carbon emissions, A chemist neatly packing your prescription Or the founding father of a strange new religion (And its staunch defender when it’s met with derision). With a good pair of glasses I’d pass for a statistician Or marry into wealth with a thoroughbred patrician If I got better at lying, perhaps a politician? Something meaningful, that fulfils my ambitions. Actually, who really needs monetary provisions? I reckon I’ll just be an actor-musician. From Blogger iPhone client

This is a silly one where I experimented with rhyme and a bit of a palindromic structure!  My good friend, steadfast tin soldier, And years of wishing I’d been bolder When your tin soldier boots march you away  From your girl at home, and things she didn’t say. Wave goodbye, steadfast tin soldier, But turn and glance over your shoulder To childhood, measured in ruler-spans- A memory of how we began: Tin toy face, enchanted glass look A hearth was lit, a matchstick struck. The clacking knells and whizzing bells of my toy shop heart- Confirmation of an infatuation fated to start. Music-box laughter on cross-legged floors When our amusement left us silly-sore, Stitched up sides and wiping weeping eyes At marriage, a carriage and all it implies. Or when we grew up to be Capital-Cee Clever, Stroking our chins and humming hmmm forever Trading half-baked knowledge, taste the weight it brings Old chap, how did we enjoy such childish things? Then my cat-burglar thieving glances, Your metal...

sorry- another half arsed poem as im still working through auditions etc etc etc. verryyyy important actor dahhhling dont you know x anyways, here are some Haikus myself and friends composed in the workroom instead of finsihing my carol ann duffy coursework. Soz Carol. I hate miss jardine She hates my coursework  What a fucking bitch- Scarlett I hate gimps so much  They are jarring and weird Scarlett is a cunt- Owen  Reece has a moustache I think it is a bad one  Men do not matter- Freya Goku Egg stands tall Watching over the workroom I love him so much- Reece When it is raining  It is also thundering  Dancing in the rain- Toby  I don’t even know Oh my god erm hello you Nice to see you now- Alice  From Blogger iPhone client

Apologies for the radio silence- currently balls deep in drama school applications, so ive not been thinking anything remotely poetic these past few weeks. This is a poem I wrote to be performed as spoken word alongside a devised movement piece for one of my first - round auditions.When the world ends all  colossal climate-induced natural disasters will be such distant memories that they become folklore. White sunrise on a nuclear morning The suffocating shock-white of another withering day We passed the night telling stories of ancient tempests screaming battering winds hot seas boiling over onto indifferent shores rain like a fickle lover falling at once in violent slats then absenting itself for cruel desperate months old testament chaos rabid and vengeful but vivid violence in a shimmering technicolour there is a vile delight that sits in our throats we awake on sterile barren ground and try not to look at the footprints in the sand to hear the howl of dark ancestral spectres ca...