Frau Nein Frau Nein Blocks deal Britain must walk over broken glass Boris takes control It’s German intransigence he says That means 80% no deal Is real Talks expire today Says the Mail Online In its headline We all hope together But for different things Found poem taken from the text of the Mail Online front page December 13th 2020. (c) Suzanne Conboy-hill 2020 Continue reading ‘Rubbish’
The Village, Spring and Summer 2020 When the world had gone mad And things were so bad And staying at home was the new going out And life shrank to the size of a screen But if we were lucky we still saw some green in the fields and the gardens we passed when we could. Until everything stopped. No outings, no meetings No seeing our gran, No chatting to besties or folks in the street, unless they were housemates and under our feet. Like a film that has stuck on one frame we were trapped Right here … Continue reading Not A Poem by Not A Poet
FutureLearn took its reputation in its hands by letting me know about its ‘Making a Poem’ course run by Manchester Metropolitan university. It’s just three weeks and covers some basics, including sources of poetic ideas such as random text, images, and individual words, and the protocols governing feedback. For such a short course, it does its job quite well, introducing the elements of poetry and getting participants to engage in a bit of practice. Tutors are Helen Mort and Michael Symmons Roberts whose videos head each section. I’m not sure what they’d make of what I made though! A Found poem … Continue reading Products of a poetry course
Now released as an album via Soundcloud. All audio tracks are free to access but if you prefer to see what they’re saying, the book is still available from Amazon. Continue reading ‘Let Me Tell You a Story’
Rapture, by Phillippa Yaa de Villiers, is dedicated to the protection of South Africa’s rhinos and is reproduced here in support of World Rhino Day. Rapture by Phillippa Yaa de Villiers We have to keep going as if there is a future, but it’s the end of the world, the rapture, screaming bodies hurled to heaven. Wars everywhere and the middle east burning: the smell of bodies lost to wonder, the callous mistake of statistics sunburnt holes in the sky and the ritual murder of elephants and rhinos almost industrialized, like our responses as automatic as breathing as automatic as pressing … Continue reading Rapture by Phillippa Yaa de Villiers
I wrote this in a poetry workshop so it must be a poem, yes? But when I sent it out into the world to be appraised for publication (I know, delusional) they said it wasn’t really. It’s been hanging around on my blog ever since, puffing out its chest and posturing to make up for its perceived inadequacies. So in honour of, or more likely a threat to, National Poetry Day, I give you: Philosopher Stoned He is brazenly, brilliantly, brassed off by the polished politics of the righteous right. He heats arguments on pupils bright as buttons of molten … Continue reading For National Poetry Day: ‘Philosopher Stoned’
Shady Lady Ethereal prose of shining Linguistic Jewels, where Artistry goes pining for Masochistic Expression in Sadistic blows. ♦♦♦♦♦ Oh, acrostic! That’s not the same as sarcastic then? Ether poetry challenge October 19th. Continue reading Brace yourself, it’s a poem
Climbing for Jesus I went Up Pen-y-Ghent I was spent Dumb wit! A fool From Sunday School A mule For Christ There was a fox and Horses’ hocks Up there on the rocks No shit! Stupid boots Catholic roots Home to roost In wet tights Aren’t they all bent, Hunters of souls’ rent? Tally ho I went ©suzanne conboy-hill 2011 Pen-y-Ghent is a fell in the Yorkshire Dales. This happened. Even the fox. Continue reading Climbing for Jesus
For the last couple of months, I’ve been immersed in the peculiar world of poetry in order to produce something passable for my OU course. Today, the product of my bemused labours went off to the university for judgment and the long wait for a grade begins. Actually, anything above ‘WTF is that!’ will suffice. I did the required 40 lines; I put my name on the paper; I didn’t take the mick. That’s a pass, surely? So did I learn anything? Well, for a start, I found that poetry describes itself in terms of both feet and meters, thereby … Continue reading Poetry is weird & quite possibly illegal
Dr Suzanne Conboy-Hill 