The Bell Jar: Jo Bell's blog

"She lives the poetry she cannot write" – Wilde

Needled

Look, I can explain. Honestly. I am on a writer’s retreat in Shropshire and there is honestly no internet access at all – have had to creep out to the pub to do some emails! One of my favourite poets is here – have a look at his website.

Fear not – I shall I address the backlog and earn my Napowrimo stripes again when I return. In the meantime, here’s one that came out of our writing exercises yesterday. ‘Write about a strong memory’ they said. Alright then; here’s a poem from me now, to me then.

Talking to Myself

When he comes back from the bathroom in ten minutes
buttoning his old black Levi’s, and sits
like a tired grace in your half-sprung chair:

When he touches his dark and silver curls
bemused, and looks at you full-on
as if you were the answer to the question:

when he laughs, so that the pleasure of his laugh
is like a whetstone for your needs
his skin a scent that you’ll remember like a dog

for twenty years: when you notice the spot
of blood on his sleeve: when the penny drops
like a bomb into the loading bay

do me a favour:

leave.

Struggling? Here's a clue

Advertisements

2 comments on “Needled

  1. garylongden
    April 13, 2011

    I missed the title to this when I first read it, and didn’t scroll down to the graphic at the end, leaving my mind pondering the possibilities for the extended bathroom visit!

    Funnily enough, that enhanced my pleasure of reading a very rewarding and poignant poem.

    • Jo Bell
      April 18, 2011

      Glad to hear you like it, chaps. It was all worth it then!

Comments are closed.

Information

This entry was posted on April 13, 2011 by in Writing exercises and tagged , .
%d bloggers like this: