The sky is grey this morning. The air seems to lie heavy on my chest. I am in pain. I have Lupus, an autoimmune disease, so the pain’s nothing new, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Neither is it easy to be cheerful, as I drive my daughter to school through rush-hour traffic, trying not to care whose turn it should be to let people out and that I can’t stop for children trying to cross the road because the arsehole in the black BMW behind is far too close up my backside. Well, my car’s backside.
So here I am, in my dingy living room, with a cup of tea, a blank Word document and Kate Garrett’s pamphlet, ‘Deadly Delicate’. Does the pamphlet help?
Yes it absoflippinlutely does!
Pirates! Misunderstood, doing the best they can, swashing their buckles (or buckling their swashes, even), hiding their hair, drawing blood – theirs or others’ – but only because they have to. And it’s not cartoon silliness, it’s real. These are poems that could easily have been told by the historical characters who speak to you from the pages of this powerpack pamphlet.
My favourite poem is ‘Shore Leave’. I have Kate’s permission to reproduce it for you here (I think it’s rather appropriate that it’s come out a little bit swimmy):
The beautiful rhythm and imagery of the first line put you on the quayside, looking down at the ocean. You almost have vertigo, looking in to the water, which is moving, “drunken[ly]” with the “tide spit[ting] foam at your feet”. Then you feel the shore shift as you stand still. Anyone who’s stood on a beach knows this feeling of not knowing whether it’s you, the shore or the sea that is moving. You are dizzy and dropping and swirling and shifting and I make no skull and crossbones about saying isn’t life like that? Especially as you “look to the ground, the horizon.” But it’s ok; “Keep moving”, we’re told, for “better pleasures lie ahead”. There are taverns! Rum, fun, rest from the sea’s constant tides and the harsh life aboard ship. Once your “crooked sails” are “straightened” you can “climb back on board under the stars; look up” and then “slow the movement of the earth to a slumber.” I’ll say that again, slowly; “slow the movement of the earth to a slumber.” There, that’s better.
This looks like such a simple little poem, but it is skilfully crafted: full of movement and – if we want to see it – a way of coping with life and its relentless tides.
I’ve had the pleasure of hearing Kate read her poems and it’s just as true listening to them as reading them: there is no pretension; no “look at me” – not even any “poor me”, simply a truthful, matter of fact way of looking at the world, which is somehow filled with magic.
You have a choice of where to buy Kate’s pamphlet. For details, you need only click on this link:
A final note on writing your own poems. How about looking at historical characters who interest or intrigue you? Pirates, witches, Roman centurions, Christians thrown to the lions, lions having Christians thrown to them…. Think about what their lives may have been like. If you don’t find inspiration there, then that’s another hat I’m going to have to eat.