Skeleton Architecture

This is a poem I wrote in response to The Prompt from Sara at Mum Turned Mom . I first wrote it thinking of the current situation in British politics, but in the darkness of the terrible event in Manchester recently it also speaks to that situation. I am so sorry for all those who lost loved ones, who were hurt, who were terrorised by the bomb that went off in Manchester.  I am also sorry for all of our young men and women whose fears are targetted by groups like ISIS.  There is always an increase in racism and in anti-immigrant feeling after an event such as this, whipped up by those who wish to keep the people divided and voting for those that would keep the rich rich and the poor in 'their place'. We all get caught up in things, and it is always important to question our thoughts, as well as what we're told.  We do not have to stay on this road to division and hatred. We can stop, help each other, just as the people of Manchester came together to help each o...

Today, for Prose for Thought (which I've just realised, I never share prose on - sorry!), I'm sharing my poem about Chocolate. There's a bit of a chocolate theme to the blog lately isn't there? The last post was all about chocolate too . I'm blaming the Easter eggs which are still sitting on top of the kitchen cupboards. I'd say we're all bored of chocolate, but it's really just the kids. I'm desperate to make it into cakes and sauces, cookies and truffles, but I'm not allowed. 😢 Anyhow, I wrote this poem for the Scottish Book Trust last year, and you'll find it on their website here , but I'm now able to share it right here, so here it is - a bit of chocolatey goodness for all you lovelies. Chocolate All my life I've loved chocolate. The love is in my genes, and some would say (the cheeky ones) it's also in my jeans.  I passed my love of chocolate to my babes in the womb. They drank it in their breastmilk and dan...

Sometimes, when I'm stuck on how to make something work, or I've lost the point of a poem I will use a formal poetry technique to shuffle the cards in my deck and come up with something different. Usually I do this with poems that aren't working for me, but sometimes I do it with other texts which I like, but am not getting any inspiration from. It can spark new ideas. I tend to make things into poem structures that use repetition, making the words learn the steps of the sestina, pentina, tritina, pantoum, or villanelle. I've just had a villanelle accepted for publication which started life as a free verse poem which just wasn't working. I love the circling and the repetition of these forms because I think they bring more focus onto the moment of the poem.  Of course, things don't have to stay formal, often, usually, in fact, they break down having once come together, but the process helps to reveal patterns and the little important things which can mak...

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...

Beneath the ground, within the diamond pressure of mountains, the wyrm had slept for so long that her body had considered stone. But she had not stayed all these years to shrug off her own precious flesh, sinew, and bone for mere minerals. She might wind around her sparkling stones, but she would not become them. Instead, once or twice upon a millennium she would stir, just slightly, her body undulating along its length as she stretched, muscles reminding themselves of their flesh. It was only a shift. Even that was enough, she knew, to split the earth itself. Once she had had sisters, and with the moving of their bodies, they had forged new continents. Once all the wyrms had roamed the surface, gorging on the creatures there, growing fat on other's flesh. She had grown the biggest of all her sisters. When the sleep came she and her sisters had coiled their way down, shifting the very plates of the earth to make their beds. For millennia she had felt her sisters shifting in thei...

Do you do any of those photo challenges on Instagram? I used to do it more than I do now, but I still take part in the So Good in Every Way  fortnightly themes (sometimes), and the Snap Happy Britmums daily prompts (again, sometimes). Todays prompt was words, and I was sitting in my kids' school this morning, waiting to help out with walking a bunch of kids to another school, and thinking about how the rhyme, 'sticks and stones' has changed as schools have become more cognicent of the long term damaging effects of verbal bullying. When I was a kid we taunted bullies that words would never hurt me. My own eating disorder, other self harming, and so much other stuff can testify to the nonsense of that. Now my kids are taught the rhyme 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can really hurt me.' and it's true. Physical violence is rubbish, but we should never underestimate the long term harm of verbal violence. Hence my poem today. It's almost a ...

Hello there! Today (21st March) is World Poetry Day. To be honest, I didn't know this until Vic Welton shared a poem on her blog earlier today ( here ). She got some glorious goodies from Viking, which I'm jealous of, but I too can write about the joy of poeming, even without fancy stuff (although Viking , if you're watching, I'd love some freebies 😉), so here is my poem about why I write poetry, and underneath that are some links to awesome poets you might like to check out. Why do I write poetry? For poetry makes words into silly-putty to bounce ideas around and mould to our meanings. For poetry is a way to speak my truth to beauty and in that, reflect your own. For poems are small, and sometimes tiny and can be crafted and smoothed, embellished and made just so, and they might even find a new home. For I read and listen to poetry and find I must join in: take your words and swallow them to set my own words free. Ⓒ Cara L McKee 21/3/17 As promised here are some...