Today we had the last meeting of the year for the Creative Writers group.
As many of the members are also members of the Poetry group, which meets the week after, and as that would be Christmas Eve we decided to mix the groups together.
What a success! It was a really good meeting with a lovely mix of poems and stories and even a hymn (which was sung). And there was Christmas food.
I didn't have anything to read, but I have at least started a new story and I have the idea for a second. Progress.
No homework this month, but I suggested that if anyone had time for writing they could either use one of the homework's from the past year that they had missed or they could go back to one they had done and review it.
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Borrowing Dogs
Yesterday we had another Lunchtime Writers Group. Once again we had some lovely pieces read out. I’m particularly jealous of the new developer who had just joined my new team and came along. Not only is she a graphic designer and a web developer but the piece she read out was the prologue to her novel (80,000 words in already) and was really good – very polished and professional and I think we all wanted to hear more.
I had a poem I was going to read out, but I lost my memory stick with all my work on so couldn’t print it out. Luckily it was safe at home so no big disaster.
The poem is inspired by all the poems for kids that I’m reading for the OU – Children’s Literature course, and of course my love of dogs.
Borrowing Dogs
Every morning at 7.58
I walk a bouncy white husky
Past our flat.
Every Monday night
I wait outside the chip shop opposite
With a curly spaniel.
Most evenings before dinner
I walk a shiny red setter
Up the road.
On Saturday mornings
I trot with black dog and white dog
In their numbered racing jackets.
And this week I’ve played
With the small black and white builders dog
Through the kitchen window.
I had a poem I was going to read out, but I lost my memory stick with all my work on so couldn’t print it out. Luckily it was safe at home so no big disaster.
The poem is inspired by all the poems for kids that I’m reading for the OU – Children’s Literature course, and of course my love of dogs.
Borrowing Dogs
Every morning at 7.58
I walk a bouncy white husky
Past our flat.
Every Monday night
I wait outside the chip shop opposite
With a curly spaniel.
Most evenings before dinner
I walk a shiny red setter
Up the road.
On Saturday mornings
I trot with black dog and white dog
In their numbered racing jackets.
And this week I’ve played
With the small black and white builders dog
Through the kitchen window.
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Counting Sheep
We had the last writers group of the academic year today.
Last months homework was to write a poem about a day out, and although I find poems hard work I thought I would give it a go.
Counting Sheep
Does she know,
As he turns her on her back,
What he’s going to do to her?
Keeping her left fore leg
Bent with his knee,
She lies docile,
Dark eye’s unfocused.
Thick rusty arms hold her,
Twisting her this way and that,
Following the contours of her body,
Each curve traced,
She is reduced.
It’s about our trip to the Alton Show at the beginning of July. I had wanted to write about the whole day but can see that concentrating on a particular part of the day, in this case the man demonstrating sheep shearing, would make a better poem. The group must have liked it, they suggested I send it to Farmers Weekly!
As unofficial administrator for the group I’ve agreed to make us a facebook page. Something else to add to my summer list. Next meeting October.
Last months homework was to write a poem about a day out, and although I find poems hard work I thought I would give it a go.
Counting Sheep
Does she know,
As he turns her on her back,
What he’s going to do to her?
Keeping her left fore leg
Bent with his knee,
She lies docile,
Dark eye’s unfocused.
Thick rusty arms hold her,
Twisting her this way and that,
Following the contours of her body,
Each curve traced,
She is reduced.
It’s about our trip to the Alton Show at the beginning of July. I had wanted to write about the whole day but can see that concentrating on a particular part of the day, in this case the man demonstrating sheep shearing, would make a better poem. The group must have liked it, they suggested I send it to Farmers Weekly!
As unofficial administrator for the group I’ve agreed to make us a facebook page. Something else to add to my summer list. Next meeting October.
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