From the waist down

Pic: A pair of old sandals on gravel

 

After a bit of a break I have been reading some poems out and about recently. It’s just a small weekly night, organised by a friend, and it’s mostly a music night (absolutely my favourite kind of thing – very relaxed, some experienced players, some newbies, no one else who calls themselves a poet). I’ve even been singing a little bit (but let’s not talk about that right now – I have poem about my singing called Croak by croak that you can find at the bottom of this page).

 

A friend mentioned that she didn’t know the poems I read last night and I realised at least one of them didn’t make it to the internet (at least I don’t think so). This poem is one I wrote after a weekend boating trip Mark and I took on Loch Ness in 2021 (pics below from the trip). On the second day a white-tailed sea eagle flew over us while we were in the middle of the loch (with pretty much no one else as far as our eyes could see, Mark got a photo on his more serious camera). Poor thing was just getting lunch, didn’t know poetry was afoot. Audio of the poem here.

Pic: A camera screen with a photo of a white-tailed sea eagle

 

Sea legs

 

So much to escape,

I can see the appeal

as we bounce away

on waves and swell,

leave land’s tough rind

for alternative time.

 

Some swoosh on by,

we chug, chug, chug,

small craft, huge loch,

we laugh and bob,

our eyes need help,

our legs adjust.

 

As we practise knots

on our little adventure,

giant wings above

might seem to mock – 

white-tailed sea eagle,

a lesson in flight.

 

It crosses the loch

in a handful of beats,

the water is wide

but the bird is too,

it scoops a snack,

then it swoops on back.

RF 2021

 

 

 Pic: Entering Loch Ness, view of clouds and water and hills from a motor boat

Some of you might recognise the phrase ‘the water is wide’ in that poem as it is the title and part of a folk song (sung by many well-known 20^th century artists too). I first heard it at Montrose Folk Club sung by Judy Dinning and the band Real Time (I wrote about Judy for another project back here). Looking at the poem persuaded me to have a go at singing The Water is Wide this week. I don’t sing it as well as Judy (here she is, with Real Time, performing it) but I enjoyed the attempt. Another of the participants nudged me to “just dive in” as I stalled a little before starting, wondering if warbling in public was really a good idea. It was a very apt comment and it helped no end.

 

The other poem I read last night is one that has had much more attention than most of mine. It’s a love poem called Don’t squeeze my shoes and it’s been used in weddings (and is even on wedding websites like this one – check me alongside Bob Dylan and Winnie the Pooh as options for your special day). It’s not my favourite poem of mine by some stretch but we can’t control what flies and what doesn’t – here is my post about it on my old blog (including the poem). The title is a phrase used in the TV show NYPD Blue that Mark and I used to watch years ago (and of course we used to repeat the phrase in terrible NY accents…).

 

Anyway, may your feet be comfy, as often as possible. Until next time.

 

I went to Orkney Folk Festival and I saw...

 

I went to Orkney Folk Festival and I saw… 

(audio version here)

 

 

1 

 

The macaroni pie

of a woman to my right

held halfway 

between plate and bite.

 

A voice ringing out

as a spell was spun,

hunger had to wait

till the song was done.

 

 

2 

 

Afternoon shows

with a coach trip air,

coats on, zips up,

nothing too bare.

 

But later at the Stomp,

feet firm, arms bright,

the strappiest tops,

young blood, all night.

 

 

3 

 

It wasn’t quite a circle,

more of a line,

four lovely singers

sitting in a shrine.

 

They played old colours

and they tried out new.

They left us charmed,

anything but blue.

 

 

4

 

A walk by the point,

brave tents in the roar,

singers swimming wild,

more golf than war.

 

Runners with dogs,

fiddles and feet,

we all headed down

to the prettiest street.

 

 

5 

 

Singers all around us,

perfect lullabies,

singers in the jumper shop,

looking for their size.

 

Singers with jetlag,

looking for calm,

singers with toddlers,

looking for an arm.

6

 

Midnight at the club, 

and a song for a dad,

a story I don’t know,

not a life I've had.

 

But the woman to my left,

was an open gate,

tears flooded fast,

it was hot, it was late.

 

 

7

 

For a change, Sunday morning,

squeezed in a pew,

for poets and pianos,

and a choir came too.

 

Light poured in

as the songs soared high,

it’s not about angels,

more about sky.

 

 

8

 

The boat on Monday,

tired goodbyes,

memories in phones,

smiles, heavy sighs.

 

And the session carried on

as we sailed away,

tunes for dreams

at the end of the day.

RF 2023

 

 

 

 

Music for May

Realising I haven’t put anything on this blog for a couple of months, I thought I’d just mention two albums you might want to look up.

 

The first is Onliness from Josienne Clarke (pic above). I’ve written about this artist on this blog before and this album has been out for a month or so. It sees Clarke revisiting work from her back catalogue and it really is a beautiful collection. Even songs like Done (that I loved so much in its earlier version) are somehow at least equalled, if not bettered, in these new recordings (new video here). I’ve been hearing them on some of my favourite radio shows recently and if mainstream radio were to rely less on easy options (oh yes please, more Coldplay, that’s what the world needs) we could all be richer, musically at least. Clarke has that special thing, a voice like no-one else – you hear her voice and you know it’s her – and once you’re a fan, you’re a fan for life. She is touring this year too – catch her if you can.

Another artist I’ve written about before is Pauline M. Hynd (here, for example). A huge figure on the Dundee music scene, Pauline died in 2021 but this spring her family (in blood and music) have released a collection of songs written by this artist who was perhaps better known for her performances of others’ material. The album is called My mother is really out there travelling in the light and you can hear it (and buy it) on Bandcamp here. All but one track feature Pauline on vocals (the last track has vocals from another local singer/songwriter Nicola/Nic Madill).

 

I will try to find something else for the blog before too long! It’s a bit all or nothing these days.

 

Thirteen Years

Back in January 2022 one of the musicians/songwriters I wrote about was Ross Wilson of Blue Rose Code (that piece about him and one of his songs is here). This week Ross has a new song (officially released tomorrow) called Thirteen Years. 

The Conservative party have been in power in Westminster since 2010 (albeit in a coalition with the Liberal Democrats for the first five years of that period) and what with that and the Brexit disaster things are pretty bad in the UK right now. The Conservatives are employing the usual right-wing tactic of steering attention towards immigration and away from everything their party and its allies have done (and not done) to cause chaos, hunger and misery for so many people. Most of the media are its allies too, it is quite clear, and they also add royal ‘news’ into the mix for those who find the immigration angle too tasteless and prefer some distraction (“yes, isn’t it terrible about those poor people but what is Kate wearing this week?”). 

 

There are some in the public eye talking about the state of the UK, the Government and its terrible policies, but we need far more to speak out to counteract the waves of sewage put out by most of our media (and that’s before the tsunami of coronation hogwash coming our way later this spring). We need songs, poems, art, and everyone who can doing more (and more loudly) to fight the power and all it’s doing to harm people and the environment. Blue Rose Code’s new song is a great example of how to protest. I heard it for the first time this week on one of my favourite radio shows (The Roddy Hart Show on BBC Scotland) and I hope to hear it soon on other stations in the UK, on other shows. It's no good just playing antiquated protest songs from times gone by – we need the protest songs of today as well. It’s been quite the week for the BBC (what with the Gary Lineker story, the David Attenborough story, non-stop stories about their news bias in recent years) and I totally understand why many people have given up on that organisation entirely. I still have a tiny hope that it can be reclaimed from the forces of selfishness and misinformation and still pay a licence fee (just). I did write a little BBC poem earlier this week (I tweaked it a little from the first version that was on Twitter and elsewhere, it’s posted below).

 

But back to today’s song – Thirteen Years is officially released tomorrow [out now] and all proceeds go to the Scottish charity Children 1^st. You can buy it from Bandcamp (I did, pic above) and many other places. It’s really good (all Blue Rose Code music is) so buy it, request it, and then request it again.

Plaything

 

If the BBC is a football

then lately it’s had the blues,

it’s been hogged by the team called ‘me first’,

target: narrowing all the views.

 

There’s been talk about freedom and culture

whilst kicking the truth out of news,

and a dribbled old line about honour,

a tactic they’ll always reuse.

 

Now the field may have never been even

but there’s one thing we cannot excuse, 

Tories never lose sleep over people,

it’s the buck that they cannot refuse. 

RF 2023

January poem (in March)

 

Room with a view, Musselburgh, Jan 2023

Messaging myself in Musselburgh 

 

Sat 8.11 AM

 

A three-legged dog, 

Quick changing light, 

More blue, more dogs, 

The edge of sight.

 

Enter

Cold air pulls taut,

Tarpaulined boats, 

Folk wrapped up

In scarves and coats.

 

You sent

“Try to stop rhyming

All the timing”

 

Sat 3.51 PM

 

Slow walking day,

Shells stacked knee high,

Glass just saying hush 

To a bleating sky.

 

Enter

RF 2023

We’ve spent a bit of time in Musselburgh in East Lothian in recent months. The views aren’t so different to here but they are still different enough. We were there in January and somehow I went without a notebook (ridiculous – the house is full of them!) so when I had some poetry-type thoughts I had to just send them to myself on the phone. They’ve had a tweak or two since then.

Earlier the same day

Holes

For info on this artwork see below.

Thanks to any readers who stuck with me here despite the Strictly Come Dancing blog takeover in late Nov/Dec. I know it was a bit bizarre but don’t worry, it’s all finished now.

 

In the holidays we have conversations we don’t necessarily have the rest of the year and one of the questions I am often asked is “so are you still writing?” (or some variation on that theme). Awkward pause. Shift in seat. Think to myself “I don’t know really. Am I? And who cares either way?” And sometimes I say that. And sometimes I say “well, I just wrote a great big thing about Strictly Come Dancing”. Cue another awkward pause but this time from the other direction.

 

Also I know it is unfashionable but I keep a really clear email inbox (this is tantamount to admitting I have, as they say, no life). Most people say they have 50,000 emails in their inbox and this suggests many things (some positive, some negative, depending on your stand on these issues). In mine, however, down at the bottom of the little list, I have a couple of notes I’ve sent myself and one is the tiny poem I’ll post below. I sent it to myself in June 2019 and it’s been sitting there for the past few years. I could edit it I suppose but it has lasted this long so I am going to leave it be. I used to write a lot of little poems – maybe it’s time to give them another go. 

 

The artwork in my photo above is by Tara McCombie and was taken at the Out of Sight Out of Mind exhibition that I was part of in Edinburgh last year. You can still see that exhibition online here. I took a lot of photos when I visited as there was so much great work on show. 

 

Here’s my poem. Answers on a postcard… and happy mid January to you!

 

 

 

Ripped

 

Won't fit

A tiny snip

Too square

A little tear

Round hole

In you go

 

 

RF 2019