Baring all

For all the years that I've been writing, complex issues have always been presented completely as metaphor. I shy away from writing about difficult subjects, as I don't want the reader to drown in misery.

But lately I've felt the need to write about losing my otherwise healthy mum prematurely to a nasty and very rare combination of cancers. Her death was a terrible one, and one that I would not wish on an enemy. It happened during 2020, which robbed her of life improving treatment, and those of us caring for her of the support that we so desperately needed. It was lonely and traumatising in so many ways. We buried her with ten of us present, scattered at distant intervals round a massive church. 

Potentially, it makes horrible reading, and who needs that?

Her loss has left me with deep scars, and a fear of what might lie waiting in my genes for me. My way out is usually to write about it. For three years I've coped as best I can, and it is now time. 

I'm facing demons and trying to speak up. I'm lucky enough to be able to test these words in supportive open mic nights, and it was lovely to have words of support from the brilliant Julia Webb, who is writing on some similar subjects, and who told me that it's so important to tackle these subjects, and that more needs to be said. Her affirmation was so valuable.

I've posted this extract from the latest poem before, but it has been let free now...

Day after day, while they came with

News that bloomed worse and worse,

I stood and trembled on my square of carpet,

Like a puppy about to pee.

How will I paint him,

When this ends?

Like me; enamelled on with the finest

Of brushes, only several hairs thick that paint

On a facsimile of a person that sits and

Stands and walks? 

And even talks when it has to

Troubadours Around Town

My little North Norfolk coastal town draws talent up into it like litmus paper. We have renowned artists and writers of all stripes, who have flocked here over the years and settled. Like an East Anglian St Ives. One of them is the poet Peter Pegnall. I've been lucky enough to read at his Bright Scarf poetry nights, which have toured around the world and have now settled on regular nights at the Belfry Centre for Music and Arts in Overstrand. 

For National Poetry Day this year, Bright Scarf took a different turn and put together a group of poets who have read at The Belfry over the past few years. We set off around Sheringham, forming a poetic flash mob to read at various points around town, finishing with a gathering at Sheringham Little Theatre. 

The theme of National Poetry Day this year was 'Refuge', but we also tried to read poems that were appropriate to the places in which we read. It was lovely and unusual, and exhausting. Both physically and emotionally. We startled folk by popping up and declaiming, then moving on. The event ended with a gathering at the Sheringham Little Theatre, with more poets and music.

I was footsore, windswept and inspired, and in need of a massive glass of wine!