Suitcase castors skitter-clattering
fights the
cloudburst pitter-pattering
battering
homeward jetlagged smattering
of tourists in the dark.
Taxi tyres swishing
hitting
pedestrians with mists
of filth that were
puddles
moments before.
The roar and whistle
of the storm’s winds bristle
hairs on necks
suntanned
and long haul sore.
Cash for taxis crushed in numb hands;
plans of walks on sunset shores
are splattered monumentally
with clarity of fact.
You’re back
from your holi-bobs, your jollies,
back to bills and job and worries.
Scurry soggily, fog clogs
your vision and windscreen.
Familiar roads pass under you unseen
as fatigue erodes last run of sinew keen.
Tinnitus eardrums
numbed
to thrum of engine’s
singing
lullabies
as hedges echoes follow behind.
The drive has never been longer.
wringing wrench of
muscles hunger
to feel some
relief
from cramps.
Angry clamp
stamping angles
into ankles.
Damp hats doffed,
clothing off
and duvet down.
As sounds recede, your thoughts
of pastures greener, all sorts
of golden reveries consort
themselves freely.
Home.
And comfort.
I had the honour and delight of running a workshop on the Writer's Day of Manx LitFest 2016. This is an event in which budding authors attend workshops, Q&A sessions and panel discussions with authors, publishers and agents. They also have the chance to pitch their idea to a publisher.
The workshop I was running was all about the use of sound as more than the obvious. It's all a bit complicated to explain here, but is based on the Kiki/Booba experiment and resulting inspiration. It leads to very meta-rhyme and form.
The point of it is to recognise that sound is almost as evocative as smell. That the sound of words affects you more than their actual meaning. The poem above was inspired by sound and written using the principles of the workshop.
This style of writing is why there are so many tongue-twisters in my poems.
Xx
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