If you want to know what four middle aged (what do you mean that’s optimistic) people can get up to when they’ve had a few drinks – well this is probably the worst of it! Lovely friends have given up the suburban existence for a cottage/smallholding in Shropshire. The building renovations are ongoing but that didn’t stop us having a great time there on Saturday last. My friend’s husband decided that as the wall paper was stripped in the living room I should write some of my poems on the wall! My memory was not too good at that point but I dug something up (you can see the mistakes) then we all ended up scribbling. Maybe some future Time Team will find my poems and say “Oh wow! Examples of the famous poet June Palmer……" Yeh, right. The poems are
Believing in the moon – a Tritina
All’s left is a sliver at dawn, fast fading bright shadow
in the opal sky. A fleet glimpse of the ship’s grey cat.
Two lonely pelagic nights below the Dark Moon.
Ocean-stranded, star-drowned, we believe in the moon.
Insubstantial; a pea-green boat, in the tide’s shadow,
envies the light-gathering eyes of owl and pussy cat.
Made night; watching, waiting, the familiar cat
knows her reflection in the full looking-glass moon;
understands herself in midday sun, time of no shadow.
Believe in a shadow, well-hidden as a cat: the new moon.
I wait to hear him at the wolfish hour
making me feel less alone
a brief roar on tarmac
beyond my bedroom walls
audible song of rushing air
imagine him head down, in leathers,
flying, spinning, like waste matter
around a star
until he becomes space debris
an Armageddon asteroid
Jason Nicholas Fisher, Gabriella Gay, Tracey Henham and Me at the Arena Theatre Wolverhampton - Image courtesy of Gabriella Gay @GKAGaywriting
The first Wolverhampton Lit Fest Slam last night. The theatre was sold out and brilliant poetry! The three anarchic hosts were Emma Purshouse, Dave Pitt, and Steve Pottinger. Huge congratulations to Nick Lovell who was a very worthy winner. I fell at the first post (quite literally but that’s another story!) but no disgrace in the marks I had. Jason went through to the second heats and just missed the final. Great to see fellow-writers, artists, musicians and friends Gabrielle, Tracy and not forgetting Hazel Small in the audience. Thank God some-one grabbed a photo! Well done that woman Grace Dore for just happening to have a bongo drum in her handbag in time for the drum roll. Absolutely up for it again, great night. I feel immensely privileged to be part of the scene. Oh and thanks to the old man for being there (sort of) and getting me back in time for a last pint in Stone.
OK so I'm only on the reserve list (I just wasn't quick enough!) but I am getting ready so look out Wolverhampton.
A Staffordshire Poem A Week #15: The 101 (Stone – Hanley)
Posted on January 9, 2017 by staffordshirepoetIn conjunction with Staffordshire County Council, current poet laureate, Bert Flitcroft has started a Staffordshire poetry collection. The idea is to help create a cultural identity for Staffordshire by creating a picture of the county in words and art. The poems come from whole range of different people from former poet laureates to ordinary people all over the county.
Week #15 features a poem by June Palmer about the 101 bus from Stone to Hanley and its glamorous passengers.______________________________________________________________________
The 101 (Stone – Hanley)
From this small town
to a city centre, in the centre of nowhere,
with pouts and frowns
girls wait for the 101
their legs exposed and white as February,
longing to be gone.
Octoberish winds slam
the dressed-for-summer party wenches
in their Primark glam.
huddled behind piss-stinky Perspex
their futures written.
Giggling and mewling,
pushing onto the sweat-fugged bus.
Some old lecher drooling
as they tamp out fags
on cheap fake red-soled stillies;
clutching clubbing bags.
Result! Limbs morphed to rubber
iPhone dropped down toilet in Sugarmills,
sit kerbside and blubber
in gutter-bare feet.
Mates chain-link arms for safety
past the police presence up Trinity Street.
– June Palmer
BLOG POST COURTESY STAFFORDSHIRE POET LAUREATE
Author - June Palmer