I mentioned when I started this new blog just recently that I wasn't sure whether it would have any poetry content at all... and especially if it would feature any poetry by little old me. In the old blog I posted quite a lot of poems, took part in poetry projects, wrote about poetry matters and such like so it would be quite a change for me and my online life if this were all to change. Some of you were good enough to protest a little about this suggestion and your comments were much appreciated (we take what we can, eh, crumbs of praise, crumbs of self-respect...) but in all honesty I really have no idea, at this point, if I will ever write another poem again. I mean, who cares, really, especially when there is so much else to think about (social unrest, social decay, settling back in at home, not settling back in at home, going out, staying in, family life etc.). And it's weird because I'm not upset or even particularly confused or anything - I just feel a bit 'dunno' about the whole thing. And people keep saying “you must have got so much material while you were travelling!” and I'm like “yeh, maybe, s'pose so” (in all those six months I read very little poetry and wrote even less). These inarticulate responses seem very teenage, don't they? Maybe it's some stage of bereavement or something.
I do know that, even in simpler times, I never feel about poetry the way some of you others do. I don't bathe in it, revel in it, wrap myself in it and float away and all that (maybe that's my problem – it has always been music with actual tunes that has done those kind of things for me). And, for example, when I listened to the radio documentary about poet Rosemary Tonks last year or so and they got to the bit about her withdrawing from the world of poetry the commentators (and poetry lovers) on the programme were all “how could she do that?” and “why would she do that?” and I was like “well, duh, why wouldn't you?” Her departure may have had something to do with religion but I could imagine many other reasons why a person might want to abandon poetry (or at least goings-on to do with it). For me (so far) the poetry world has never worked much magic (though I know that for others it is a wondrous place to be, likeminded souls and all that). In my case I've been to poetry festivals and felt time and time again like a fish out of water, a fish without a bicycle and pretty much a fish out on a slab with my head cut off (not so magical). And I know I miss Adrian Mitchell...
So will there be any poems as the posts roll out over the coming months? I dunno, I dunno and, again, I dunno. Sorry to be so adolescent.
And now back to the social unrest... and some music... borrowed from Dick Jones.