For my 2,251st post, I'd like to remind poets based in Britain, born in or since 1970, that I am editing an anthology for Cinnamon Press and Oxfam, to be published later this year or early in 2012, which will feature the work of Young British Poets (YBPs). To find out more, check out the Facebook event, which you can sign on to; and/or join the group as well. Deadline is May 1st. I am looking for new, or unpiblished poems, hopefully, but will accept published poems if the poet retains copyright. As I turn 45 soon, this may well be my last act of promoting the "young" as I may need to start supporting a "middle-aged generation!. (-:
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
Comments
oh, what was that very cool black & white image of a dude in shades with a different naked lass reflected in his lenses you had up a couple of days ago? god that was cool!