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24/10/2016 0 Comments My blogDear reader. I am rather busy at the moment with one thing and another. However, since I am writing within the tradition of working-class women writer’s this is only to be expected. I sincerely hope that no one has been waiting with baited breath for the rest of my poems. I have put them on the back burner for the time being, having more pressing tasks at hand. Although, I must admit it is nice to know that I am able to conjure up a poem when required, and I will definitely be doing more work on them for the poetry module of my MA.
Meanwhile, I need to press on with my autobiography. So watch this space. I am now on twitter, which I find to be a very useful and informative resource, and quite entertaining. You can find me there as Sue Petty otherwise known as @therealsuepetty (beware of imitations). Have a nice day and thanks for looking.
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19/10/2016 0 Comments The Poor House PrayerIt’s always a good idea to have a poem or two up one’s sleeve, I find. I am working on another one. This one harps back to the Nineteenth Century. A poor (working-class) young unmarried mother - desperate, half-starved and unable to cope - leaves her child on the steps of the local Poor House. (I’m filling up already.) The poem is mainly told from the child’s perspective; although I do pop up now and then as a judgemental omniscient narrator. It’s entiltled, ‘The Poorhouse Prayer’ and the first line goes something this… ‘Oh! Don’t leave me on the doorstep, Ma!
It’s cold, I’m tired and me legs are sore.’ 18/10/2016 0 Comments The cave dwellers IIRedundant words. Forever vanished. A vocabulary of different meanings proliferates with sights and sounds. And signifiers of every kind regarding worst enemy - weather. Fluctuating fortunes…life itself dependant on sun, sea and earth: fearfully eyed and goddishly revered. Generally speaking, words are unnecessary. Loud. Inappropriate. Corrupt - Defunct. Rather, grunts…purrs…clicks...gently punctuate the still pure air - unscalding. A language of signs and liquid faces Subtle, almost psychic communication; Imperceptible to the outsider. Home crafted in glistening rock The cave dwellers inhabit some other place. *Dear reader, you may have ascertained by now that my ‘thing’ is working-class writing (and that I have a huge chip on my shoulder?) Social class has a way of permeating everything I think and do - unfortunately or otherwise.
It may come as no surprise then that this poem, ‘The Cave Dwellers’, apart from anything else, is actually an allegory about the underclass of contemporary British society. 'ugug agagug' 17/10/2016 0 Comments The cave dwellersI don't know about you, dear reader, but I think I could quite happily live in a cave by the sea. Actually, I'm writing a poem based around such a premise. It's about a group of individuals who live in a cave by the sea. Cut off from civilization, they (eventually) turn into summat that's not quite, what we think of, as human (or at least their ancestors do). It's entitled, 'The Cave Dwellers' and it goes something like this: Wind-blasted, salt-sifted weathered skin. Lean, straight-backed somewhat hirsute figures Hard-grafted muscles and bone: Running, climbing, swimming, hunting, gathering, fishing - days spent sharing, caring, laughing, playing - just living. No death. No fear of death. No regrets in ending, but rejoice in new beginnings. Back to mother to replenish our beloved giving earth. Home crafted in glistening rock The cave dwellers inhabit some other place. [nice start but I suspect this poem will not end well]
14/10/2016 0 Comments Social classI have been thinking and writing about social class, and living the realities of social class, for years now.
In my writing (academic and otherwise) I have discussed class related issues such as these:
Following in the tradition and genre of working-class women writers, I am currently attempting to write my own autobiography You can check out my work on my website here: http://www.working-class-women-writing.co.uk Thanks for looking : ) 13/10/2016 0 Comments Homage to Dylan (greatwords)The Times They Are a-Changin’ Come gather ‘round people where ever you roam And admit that the waters around you have grown And accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone If your time to you is worth savin’ Then you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone, For the times they are a-changin’! Come writers and critics who prophesy with your pen And keep your eyes wide the chance won’t come again And don’t speak too soon for the wheel’s still in spin And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’ For the loser now will be later to win For the times they are a-changin’! Come senators, congressmen please heeed the call Don’t stand in the doorway don’t block up the hall There’s a battle outside and it’s ragin’ It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls For the times they are a-changin’! Come mothers and fathers throughout the land And don’t critize what you can’t understand Your sons and your daughters are beyond your control Your old road is rapidly agin’ Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand For the times they are a-changin’! The line it is drawn the curse it is cast The slow one now will later be fast As the present now will later be past The order is rapidly fadin’ And the first one now will later be last For the times they are a-changin’! 12/10/2016 0 Comments Yep, it's my writer's blog Firstly, what I want to know is: 'What are the chances of anything coming from MARS, Sir?' (it's a generic 'Sir')
Secondly, erm...so...I'm going on a bender - bought a packet of fags and a bottle of bourbon. I'm a writer, now. It's what we do. (well, it'll do for starters) (hey, not really. I don't smoke...yet. It's called fiction) Thirdly, I think it would be beneficial for me to get a pseudonym.That way I can say what I like without any comeback. I thought: 'Bob Smith.' I have some other names in mind, but they're just too plain silly to mention. Besides, there wouldn't be much point in my having an alias if I told people what it was, would there. 11/10/2016 0 Comments Pause for thoughtJessica Rabbit: 'I'm not bad; I'm just drawn that way.' - Discuss. (going for a song...top dollar $$$$)  10/10/2016 0 Comments kite flyingFirstly: RE test blogs - I'm not trying to be funny (although I am nevertheless) - I am having problems with my posts Secondly: I am writing a poem called 'Kite Flying' (It's about loss of faith). It goes something like this: Like a paper kite, I'm blowed away Grasping for the guidelines - becoming more tenuous. Not soaring, but drifting away on a malevolent breeze. (there's more to come but I'm not completely in the creative zone, yet) Thirdly: here's a song about flying kites 6/10/2016 0 Comments National Poetry DayGreat, it's National Poetry Day, hey?
So, I thought, 'who deemed this to be a National Day for the appreciation of poetry? That's some kind of influence!' For the interest of my readers; apparently, t'was this bloke here: 'Born in 1960, son of barrister Paul Sieghart, a human rights lawyer, campaigner, broadcaster and author, and Felicity Ann Sieghart, chairman of the National Association for Gifted Children, magistrate and later managing director of the Aldeburgh Cinema. He was educated at Eton and St. Anne's College, Oxford. In 1986, he founded Forward Publishing with a business partner Neil Mendoza, an independent contract publisher, publishing magazines, children’s books and poetry books.' (This is a direct copy and paste quote - no changes made.. Therefore, any errors belong to another) *For some poetry by and about some working-class women see my previous blogs entitled Poetry; Poetry I; Poetry I; Poetry III; Poetry IV; Poetry V. |
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