All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.

In addition to the Restoration Drama work, I’d like to use this blog as a place to post about my English courses in general (especially since many of us share classes).  

Prior to this semester, I hadn’t written poetry since I was a small child exploited in the service of warmongering at Rememberance Day ceremonies. Therefore, it’s been an interesting experience to start out in the Writing Poetry course offered this year by Anne Compton. Writing poetry as an adult puts you on the line in the classroom in a way that academic writing doesn’t. Daryl, who’s also in Renaissance Drama (and who I hope does not mind me mentioning this), did a great workshop piece last week which made me consider my own writing.  

 For your edification, here are the things I’m working on for this week. Comments, and especially criticism on style/word choice would be great.

Back and Fill

It was held in place all summer
with brackets that accrued barnacles,
then pitted with rust like bad teeth.
they let the slip lurch and grind in the tide.

the world off the edge is a lime smoke
sunk metal and freezing choke.

we withdraw our fingers as if from a snapping dog.

Slow Numbers

Silence weaves through the hourcount and
        around distant spires.

candle gutters on a brick sill. it spills
wax on slats that stretch toward Trinity.
Moored ships in the harbor cant on chains
that strain in monotone.
a curtain waves goodbye from the window &
the city sleeps alone.

Cheers, and see you all soon.

kw

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