Skeleton Architecture

Yay! Sun! I always have the notion when the sun appears that perhaps it's time to put the gloves and hats away, but Scotland has had me in training and so they are all still out... They'll go away for a bit come June. May Sun in Scotland Then came the sun and, desperate for light we threw our bodies in its path, heedless of the wind; relentless giver of goosebumps on our bare flesh. We went outside and talked with our neighbours, swapping the pent up stories for what seemed to be the first time in months. Stories come out in the sun. All that was held in through the long dreary months: of grey, khaki, and brown; of the world rubbed out by gathering cloud; of the tears that fall in rain. But the wind still chilled and killed the new blooms and it would not fucking stop. And then this: It did. We had sun and warmth and bare skin and barbecues for at least two days. Three perhaps, if you  count the day the rain came back. But it did come back...

I don't seem to be achieving much at the moment. I'm trying to write a synopsis for the Rose book, and in doing that I'm losing confidence in the story (which is me, not the story). My youngest stressed me out by tumbling all the way down the stairs and hitting her head (she seems fine if sore), and my middlest child is out of sorts, which is constantly worrying me. I am finishing up with very little useful brain.  Anyway, I saw that Sara at Mum Turned Mom  had suggested the prompt 'High' this week, and it reminded me of the song of the same name by New Model Army , which considers how irrelevant all our concerns are when seen from the top of a hill. There are lots of other songs with a similar feel, but I like New Model Army, so I headed to the top of my local hill to see and hear what I could see, singing to myself another one of my favourites by them - I Love the World .  I've ended up with a poem inspired by I Love the World (for the structure), and...

Hello! I'm joining in with The Prompt for my poem today, using the theme of 'glass'. I wrote this over coffee at Costa in Largs, watching the world go by and pondering over how many people watch the world go by through a Costa window (other cafes are also available), and how the things they see vary depending on where they are. I tried to highlight the things which exemplify Largs for me. But I'm also cognisant that spaces that seem the same are different for different people, so even if you've been to Largs you might not recognise mine. Through the glass Through the glass while the sun shines brightly I see Ina driving her daughter who leans on her window, watching the ferry unload a bin lorry, peculiarly clean with its cargo. Through the glass while the sun is bright I see a little girl with ginger hair and teal hairband, hands shoved firmly in the pockets of her dark green woollen coat. Despite the cold she wants Gerald...

It's been ages. Hot and sunny and dry. We've been hanging out washing, eating outside, and having water fights. It's been chuffing marvellous. So I thought it deserved a poem. I've been working on lots of poems lately - this is my fourth today! The other ones probably get more editing before I'll let them see the light of day, and then they're off on a special mission. I seem to have lost my usual way of wanting to stick within particular meter and rhyme structures, but that's OK. Perhaps it's the heat.  I can share this one, and I'm sharing it on The Prompt too (the prompt was 'window,' and this poem has open windows in it): The Hot. The Hot The hot has come with iris flowers, lawns beset with buttercups, bare legs and freckles, ice lollies dripping, and drifts of kids. Behind open windows we cannot sleep. Legs outstretched like the cat who shelters in the cool, leaving nests of moulting fur. Wea...

Magnus the Mighty Magnus the mighty stands, spear and shield in his hands, surveying all of Largs. Not since 1263 did mighty Vikings see our chip shops and our bars. But Magnus stays his lust. Stand still and strong he must, withstanding every gust, lest he should turn to rust. Magnus of Largs © Cara L McKee 23/3/16 Have you had enough of this poem format yet?  I've used it before in Know by Now and The Tall One . I think I have found the way I like it to be now, and it might be time for me to move on. My sonnets need more work I think. Anyway, The Prompt (click on the pic below to go to the link) this week was 'Mighty', and I've been listening to The History of English Podcast constantly, and Kevin has been talking about Vikings in Britain and the Danelaw (so many Vikings - even the Normans were Vikings!). I'm lucky enough to live in Largs, which was the last place in mainland Britain to have been attacked by Viking raiders (of course, there...

As I write this, I am snuggled up, safe and warm on my sofa, watching the snow falling out of my living room window. One of the benefits of being a blogger is that this is as far as my commute goes, although I usually work at the kitchen table, which is slightly further.  this morning's school run I do still have the joy of driving and walking around Largs in the snow for the school run, shopping, our various clubs, and my love of taking lots of photos, of course. I was impressed this morning by the care drivers were taking on the snowy roads, although I didn't attempt to park near Brisbane Primary, not after the horribly slippy experience of the last snows (dodging sliding cars outside a primary school is not my idea of fun). Snow is only one of the things which can cause massive travel disruption for Largs though; rain can cascade down the Haylie Brae, wind can make the coast roads impassible, and stop the ferry. It must be a nightmare for people who have to co...