You know nothing: A poetry post

Did I mention that I'm a massive fan of George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire and of Game of Thrones? I spend far too long listening to long podcasts about the History of Westeros (honestly, it's fascinating). Anyhow, the lovely Sara at Mum Turned Mom's writing prompt for this week was SNOW, so there was only one thing on my mind.

I am very much aware that as well as writing this about Jon Snow, I've written the Edge of Doom inspired by a photo of Kit Harrington who plays Jon in Game of Thrones, so I'd like to take a moment to stress that I am not interested in Jon that way. He's so very young, and so very näive. If anything I'd just want to look after the boy and maybe make him a nice warm bowl of soup.

If I was shipping myself with anyone in Game of Thrones then I think that despite his myriad flaws I might be looking at Petyr Baelish, because you'd want to be on his good side! Mind you, I'm probably best off out of it.

You know nothing

A blue rose grows
in a wall of Ice
and you do not comprehend
that the rose
and the music
are yours.

Yours is the song
of Ice
lit by Red Fire
and you know nothing.

Ⓒ Cara L McKee

This is my first Asoiaf poem! ♥

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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 ...

Beaches: a poetry post

And so we're into Autumn, I swear I heard the tyres screeching as the season turned. I'm writing this at my desk in the light of my little lamp and it's almost 9am, but it's gloomy because it's chucking it down. I love Autumn. I spent ages yesterday watching gannets diving for fish in the roiling sea, keeping their places despite the wind. And I love the fog that can wrap us up in a quiet blanket. I used to live in the Isle of Man, where the god Manannan takes care of his drunk little islanders by wrapping his warm cloak around them. So whenever I can't see the islands near us for the fog I wonder if Manannan is wrapping his cloak around us too. It feels like it. Anyway, The Prompt, over on the Mum Turned Mom blog this week is Motion, which just had me thinking of the motion of the ocean, and of the good luck I have to be able to live near the sea again. So I am sharing this poem which I wrote earlier this year, inspired by a line in Andrew McMillan...

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

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