THE WRITER’S LIFE
Since the good ship Simon set sail, I’ve been going through some old family photos on Facebook. Never one to shamepost pictures of my young adults when they were kids, the memories are nevertheless contained in the ten years I was married, when Mountsfield Park and Manor House Gardens were my 100 Aker Woods. The young ones are pure Catfordian, from Kentish and Irish blood, and that decade in the London Borough of Lewisham is where I learned Japanese and wrote 51 syllables…
WHEN WE WERE VERY YOUNG
THEN WE WERE FOUR
“I’LL ALWAYS MISS YOU,” SAID EEYORE…
…to Piglet and Pooh, Kanga and Roo.
You can take the poet out of Catford, but that Two-tone cat will never stop scratching me.
While I’m still being processed and oppressed by the fascist regime’s murderous social cleansing machine, I’m a writer with many words stored but fewer to express. I use poetry, naturally, but lately I’ve been toying with haiku.
Haiku is of course the Japanese form of poetry, where a verse is three lines – rarely rhyming – of five, seven and five syllables. The art is in using the minimalist (even for poetry) structure, not so much to tell a story as capture an instant.
If you’re really good, you might write more than one meaning into the same few words. This was a quick one I knocked up in an existential moment, about an individual life, the universe and everything.
GREEN-ISH BLUE SNEEZE
I don’t know if she ever took up Haiku, but who’s afraid of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings anyway?
Haiku is like a poetic sneeze, a kind of Japanese onomatopoeia.