Skip to main content

Be: a poetry post


Hello!

I'm down in the dumps at the moment. It's February and the rain is falling. Everything is cold and dull and wet, and staying in has ceased to be all hygge and lovely and become incredibly tedious. Not that we're staying in all the time, but I long for days of warm sun and lunch outside, of not constantly cleaning up muddy kitten prints (although they're doing great outside and having fun, which is good).

My Mum is moving house today, which is brilliant for her, as her old house was too big and needed too much work. It's fine for me as well, but I'm rolling about in memories today, of all the things that happened in that house, all my memories, all the memories shared with others who aren't in my life now. It's weird to think that I won't ring that pull-bell again. It's weird to think that I won't need the memory of which steps creak.

I'm busy doing lots of writing at the moment. Bitty stuff of poems to go with a photography exhibition, and a column for Scotland 4 Kids. I feel like I'm avoiding writing the bigger things, but that's probably alright, because I think there are things I need to figure out about those. I've had lots of rejections lately and that's battering my confidence, but I'm choosing to believe that these things come in waves and a good wave is just around the corner.

The prompt this week at Mum Turned Mom is BE. And this little poem was just bouncing up and down to come into being. With thanks to Sara (at Mum Turned Mom), and to Nirvana for the inspiration.



Be

Be who you are
who you were
who you want to be.
Be-a-utiful and strong,
be wild, be free.

Beside yourself laughing
beside your friends
and family.

Be you.
Who else is there to be?


Ⓒ Cara L McKee 7/2/17



mumturnedmom   Writing Bubble

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

February update!

  Hello! Please see above for a screenshot (not sure who the photo is by) from the lovely Fragmented Voices website which has my poem, Escaping Pheasants, as their featured poem today. This poem is inspired by the pheasants which are brought in to our local country house for people who are that way inclined to shoot. Sometimes I see them flapping down from the estate wall and on to the busy road, making a break for it toward the moors. Good luck pheasants. Escaping Pheasants also features in my book, Little Gods, published by the marvellous Roswell Publishing and available from booksellers and Amazon, or get in touch to get a signed copy from me. Other recent successes include two poems in Obsessed with Pipework #105, a Haiku in Coin Operated Press ' Haiku Zine, The Libraries  came out in Culture Matters' Bread & Roses Anthology, and, as I mentioned last time, When you slow a bit you can see the way , another poem from Little Gods, came out in Butcher's Dog #19. I have ...

Winter is ending update

I've been doing lots of research lately on Scottish history, which is showing me just how much we never move on even if we think we're dead modern. I've also been writing poetry, I've been super inspired by Jacqueline Saphra's amazing poem Cimex Lectularius (see my post here for more on that), and have been writing a poem a week because of that, and informed by all my Scottish history research, and also the ongoing slow-motion car crash which is Brexit (as I write Westminster have rejected no-deal but not actually got rid of it, and they've asked for an extension but not actually got it *sigh*). Anyway, I've had a couple of bits of good news. Firstly, I'm going to have another poem in the May edition of the wonderful online poetry magazine Picaroon Poetry  - such a good magazine, I'm chuffed to bits to be in again. Secondly, my poem about a grumpy old man who was genuinely in a swimming pool with me is going to be in this year's Speculative Bo...

Cleaning: A Poetry Post

Today I'm bringing inspiration from a writing workshop I went to the other day. We had to list lots of things, like things we did every day, things we hated, all that stuff. I can't remember which list 'cleaning' fell on - it could have been either of the ones I've mentioned, but here is my poem on the subject. If you like it, please feel free to share. Cleaning I'm not leaning toward cleaning. Not predisposed to tidy clothes. I'm not inclined to wax sublime. There is no room I would vacuum. I've no desire to scrub with wire. I wouldn't wish to wash a dish. As for laundry, it just bores me. Toward cleaning I'm not leaning. © Cara L McKee 3/4/16