Tuesday, 15 October 2013
Friday, 11 October 2013
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
9. October 2013 - Huffpost published my poem, today but unfortunately, in spite of much effort on both sides of the Atlantic, they can't get the form onto their blog, so it looks strange. However, the language is still there and there is a super pic to introduce the poem on the general page.
The poem is in Huffpost 50 - a part of the Journal that focuses on older people and is published in 7 countries. What I'm proud of is that this is not a literary magazine, though literary mags. matter a lot. But these are just Huffpost staff who decided to trawl the globe for poems they like written by people over fifty and publish them - I think the guy who chose my poem is a business editor. To be chosen here for that reason matters a lot to me - it's really encouraging to know work can be liked beyond the literary world too.
link:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/olivia-byard/featured-fifty-poetry_b_3696238.html?utm_hp_ref=featured-fifty-poetry
Poem as it should look:
The
Corset
The poem is in Huffpost 50 - a part of the Journal that focuses on older people and is published in 7 countries. What I'm proud of is that this is not a literary magazine, though literary mags. matter a lot. But these are just Huffpost staff who decided to trawl the globe for poems they like written by people over fifty and publish them - I think the guy who chose my poem is a business editor. To be chosen here for that reason matters a lot to me - it's really encouraging to know work can be liked beyond the literary world too.
link:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/olivia-byard/featured-fifty-poetry_b_3696238.html?utm_hp_ref=featured-fifty-poetry
Poem as it should look:
The
Corset
That hot summer in
Maine
when I was fourteen, Granny
found herself beached
in her whale-boned
corset
high above the
shimmering shoreline -
our bags rugs drinks
and clothes
washed up against her.
She sweltered
but was adamant, until
the thermometer
nudged ninety and even
she
had a refit to Bermuda
shorts
and a top.
I wondered
if she'd tip over
without her stays -
but she trimmed
herself up
to full four feet nine
inches,
and breeze belling her
loose blouse
sailed
straight with my little
brother
through the shallows
for crabbing -
naked toes wriggling beneath.
Saturday, 5 October 2013
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