I often use memory or images to create my poems, but I like images for their own sake too. I took this photo last week following an appointment in London and it reminded me of the poem about my first love.
I wrote ‘Email’ recently – I often find emails are the worst way of communicating
sifting through a mountain of words
trying to say the right thing
I don’t want to break the spell
but it wasn’t like that
I was there, seeing it all
from a different angle.
This poem came to me coming home from the Poetry School
Poet on the run
for the next train to Brighton
pot of misu soup slips from her hand
head first into leather bucket bag
rescued by a man from Haywards Heath
with the boring bits from the Telegraph –
Property, Motoring, Money and Sport.
mobile still has a watery window
green seaweed or is it soggy cabbage
weeps from the camera
her Myslexia diary
languishes on the radiator
but Thom Gunn’s poetry books are safe
tucked as they were into neat plastic bags
some things are destined to last.
I’m an apprentice poet of course but never stops me trying Ann