Our world – our problem | Peter Matthews — Whispers and Echoes

Please click on the link below to see my latest haiku published yesterday.

The world is dying Humankind has abused it Now’s the time to heal Peter Matthews, a country boy at heart, lives with his wife in the suburbs of Nottingham, England.  His greatest achievement is that he has aged fairly gracefully but has avoided growing up.  Peter has written poetry from the age of sixteen and blogs regularly […]

Our world – our problem | Peter Matthews — Whispers and Echoes

Poetry, You, Me, and Wordsworth

recently posted a spoken word poem which was, itself, a re-run of my Rapid Rhyme #30. This started off by saying that “None of us are Poets” but went on to suggest that we could all have a go and have fun along the way.  We do, after all, primarily blog for ourselves. 

I had some lovely responses, but also a couple of “should I really be trying to write poetry – who do I think I am?” replies.  

Caroline at doesitevenmatter3 thought that the fewer comments received, whenever she posted poetry, was a commentary on her poetry writing. 

Sue, at nansfarm, received a comment of “good try” for her poetry, which she equated with a school report saying “could do better!”

My reply was:

I think that with your comment, and Carolyn’s, we need to encourage you both that “Yes, you can!” (write poetry).

All of art is in the eye, ear, touch, smell, taste, sense of space, or other sensory effect, of the receiver. Not forgetting that the first sensor is you!  If it pleases you, job done!

I think we all tend to be self-deprecating about our output and, in truth, there is a huge spread of talent in varying degrees across WordPress. There are some sites that produce poetry every day, even some that produce multiple poems every single day. How on earth they do it is beyond me.

I have learned to love haiku, and appreciate its subtlety, simplicity, and elegance. I have always liked limericks and have posted several hundred.  I love rapid rhymes that tend to be written to the pace of my walking, and I appreciate more complex forms that I occasionally have a go at.  Some modern rap I find to be really sophisticated and colloquial forms of poetry can be a joy to listen to.

I find myself listening to more spoken word poetry and comparing one narrator with another.  Some recordings are absolutely abysmal in my opinion, but that is only my opinion.  Each of us hears differently, and appreciates differently.  Just because someone has a brilliant acting voice, or book reading voice, does not mean they do justice to poetry. 

Try it out for yourself.  Choose a poem you really like, or a well known classic.  Look up different readings and listen to them.  You may find a perfect example – for you, and that is the whole point – it is a personal preference.

For example, If I choose “Daffodils” which many people are familiar with and listen to a reading by XXX I may love it.  If I listen to YYY reading it, I may loathe it. It is the same poem, with the same brilliant words, and the same lovely images but spoiled for me because I do not hear it the same way! Perhaps I just don’t like the way it is presented.  Maybe it is because the reader doesn’t really believe in what they are doing.  Let’s face it, some people could read a railway timetable and make it irresistibly entertaining.  Stephen Fry springs to mind!

Here, for your enjoyment, are some alternative versions of William Wordsworth’s ‘Daffodils’ 

(Cumbria – England) – BBC – 12th April 2016. This may not play outside UK.

A reading by Ralph Fiennes

And now one that I do not enjoy, read by Jeremy Irons

Here it is set to music by Dave Camlin, recorded and performed by Sing In! and Sing Owt! community choirs in west Cumbria in March 2020 during the COVID-19 crisis.

and, finally The Wordsworth Rap – Cumbria Tourism

Farewell Daisy | Peter Matthews — Whispers and Echoes

Daisy appeared in my Almost a Catastrophe on 11 June. Sadly, we had to say farewell to her on 21 June.

Click on the link below to see my haiku which appears on Whispers and Echoes today.

Time to say goodbye There can be no healing now Thank you faithful friend Peter Matthews, a country boy at heart, lives with his wife in the suburbs of Nottingham, England.  His greatest achievement is that he has aged fairly gracefully but has avoided growing up.  Peter has written poetry from the age of sixteen and blogs […]

Farewell Daisy | Peter Matthews — Whispers and Echoes

The good, the bad, and the ugly #2

This week’s #writephoto is below. Check out the rules and all of the fabulous entries by clicking on the link

The Fisherman – Image by KL Caley

The good

Perfect fishing day

Caught them by the bucketload

Returned them unharmed

The bad

Constant casting, perfect calm

Fish are fasting, free from harm

What’s for dinner now no fish?

I’ll get thinner, oh I wish!

And the ugly

He’d fished here for years, first as a boy with his Dad, then as a youth while others were chasing girls, now as a man, alone. 

It was a perfect pastime. 

He loved to cast and dream, to snooze and remember, to breathe the fresh air, occasionally to catch a fish.  He loved the solitude, the perfect reflections that rippled every time he cast, or drew in his line. He even loved it when it rained and the fish rose to the surface, seeming to delight in the shower.        

He thought of it more as feeding the fish, rather than a battle of wills to lure them on to his hook. 

Over the years he’d fed them worms, grubs, and all sorts of ground bait, but the best days fishing was surely the day he’d fed them his wife!

The good, the bad, and the ugly

This week’s #writephoto is below. Check out the rules and all of the fabulous entries by clicking on the link.

The good

Family day out

Dressed for the English Summer

Splashing in puddles

The bad

Paddle at the seaside

walking with a squelch

eating too much ice cream

pardon when I belch

tummy feeling funny

find a loo real quick

dearie me I’m feeling ill

oops, I’m being sick!

And the ugly

Are you sure Dad?

Yes, pet. I promise everything will be OK.  We just need to stamp our feet 20 times more and you will never ever see that nasty man again.  I promise!

So we did.  We stamped, and counted, never to see that nasty man again.

Below the sand, six feet down, with little air remaining, the nasty man could sense the pounding and, in abject terror, understand its meaning.

Parking the mind

I particularly enjoy the poetry of Frank Hubeny, and he often includes a recording of his reading of his original work. He normally includes his own photographs to enhance the overall experience, and they are always a delight.

I wish I had his talent.

Today, he posted Walking to the Botanic Garden, a haibun, which combines prose and haiku. I know it sounds complicated but, believe me, it isn’t. As usual, Frank began, and ended, with his own photographs that perfectly frame the whole experience.  Follow the link, above, to see why I love Frank’s poems.

I commented on today’s haibun as follows:

I don’t park my mind, I just let it wander all by itself. Not only does it seem perfectly capable of wandering during the day, but it also wanders a great deal most nights too, and it is kind to me in that it holds the memories for me to consider later!

That struck me as profound,  and I thought I should record the thought, if only for my own peace of mind!

Hard Haiku

Haiku is not easy, you know!  John Cooper Clarke sums it up:

To convey one’s mood
In seventeen syllables
Is very diffic

 

John Cooper Clarke

Born

in Salford, Lancashire, The United Kingdom

January 25, 1949

Website

http://www.johncooperclarke.com/

Genre

Poetry
John Cooper Clarke (born 25 January 1949) is an English performance poet who first became famous during the punk rock era of the late 1970s when he became known as a “punk poet”. He released several albums in the late 1970s and early 1980s, and continues to perform regularly.