e a m harris

Roaming the byways of literature

The uses of poetry

These days poetry can be found anywhere and is given many uses.  Today the BBC reports a passenger complaining in verse to Norwegian Airlines and getting a verse response.

I can’t reblog BBC reports but here is the link.

Norwegian plane



Here today gone tomorrow

snow sceneThe sun is shining so hard today it’s difficult to remember that everything was white with snow less than a week ago.

I took this picture last time we had snow, I no longer have a pampas grass to catch snowflakes and hold them up to be admired.

The white beauty lasted longer then; this year it was only decorating the garden for two days.

I’ve written haiku about snow before but it’s a subject that lends itself to the lightness of  very short poems.

Today the garden
is lovely with snow, but will it
last ’til tomorrow.

Wandering about

When I opened my blog this morning I realised that it is well over a month since I posted anything. So I have made a new New Year resolution – to post more frequently. The exercise routine resolution is already not happening, so I hope this new one will be more successful.


On the other hand, I have done a lot of reading, most of which is recorded in Goodreads.
Listing my reading in Goodreads is very useful; browsing back through my previous entries I find that I often forget what I’ve read and need a reminder.

Pulsar webzine

On the submissions front I’ve had a few successes so far this year. Pulsar, a longstanding online magazine, has published one of my poems and you can find it among a group of great poems, ostensibly for March but on line now.

Paragraph Planet

Paragraph Planet, an online flash magazine, has taken one of my very short tales (to read it you have to scroll through the archive to Jan 31). In case you aren’t familiar with this site, it publishes a 75 word story every day and some of them are really amazing – so much said in such a little space.

I’ve also had a couple of acceptances and am waiting for actual publication.

Good luck to anyone else on the submissions circuit and to anyone thinking of starting it – it can be fun.

New Year: New Reading

A belated Happy New Year to all my readers. I hope you have had a good festive season and are enjoying the feeling of newness that a new year can bring.

PBS Bulletin

After a lot of hectic: travel, parties, shopping, eating etc, etc, I have finally got around to seriously reading the winter offering from the Poetry Book SocietyJoy by Sasha Dugdale.

Along with the selected book comes the quarterly PBS Bulletin. Now the Society has updated it and it looks completely different. After years of receiving the old one I’m a bit nostalgic for its look and feel, but the new version is very nice and no doubt I’ll get used to it.

So I start 2018 with some newness spilling over from last year.

Life: the only game there is

The Three Fates

On the Carpe Diem site we have been set an interesting challenge – to write a haiku or tanka on the theme of ‘life is a game’.

This isn’t exactly a new theme for poetry, many poets in different countries, writing in different languages, have done the same, but it seems to me a bit unusual for haiku. However, us haiku writers can rise to any challenge, and I suspect that, in the ‘old days’ when Basho and his friends were holding (drunken) haiku parties, many way-out subjects were used.

Chèvrefeuille himself has given us a beautiful haiku as a model, tying the game to the seasons:

life is but a game
nature rolls the dices
seasons change

I haven’t managed to use the seasons, but I found the theme fits the haiku form well:

life is an endgame
only the Fates are certain
when the game will end.


Picture of The Three Fates from wikimedia.

Still brightening my garden


I went away for a few days this month. November setting in – cold, wind, rain – the usual.

But on my return I found this calendula still flowering, making a tiny pocket of orange sunshine in its corner of the garden.

Flowers often look fragile, but they can be tough.

Autumn birds

Carpe Diem has given us an interesting prompt of music entitled The Last of His Name by BrunuhVille.

Using music made me think of birds; the time of year is about migrating birds.

Lone swallow

The last of his name
“Swallow” will follow the flock
but not just yet.

Photo from Photopin.

Modern sculpture and haiku

Carpe Diem has had a series of posts linking haiku with sculpture. This may be something of a departure for writers, like myself, who have looked to the natural world for inspiration, but it has given rise to many really interesting poems.

I found it quite a challenge but it opened up new ideas and ways of seeing.

cool lawn; bronze sculpture;
graceful struts entwine upwards;
metallic tango.

(Pic from Carpe Diem post)

Cardoons – built for power and poetry


I can’t remember where I took this photo, but I love the mass of large, spiky, in-yer-face leaves.

I checked around to see if I could find any poems about cardoons. The internet is not exactly thick with them but I did find one, about a baboon but including cardoon.

Artichokes have more poets interested in them, and since they don’t seem to be much different to cardoons, I thought it fair to include a link.

Flowers in a bed tend to give me the impression that they are posing, not for a photo, but for a haiku. I couldn’t find any ready written so here is my haiku on these magnificent plants.

Summer afternoon.
Round cardoon heads stand above
rosettes of huge leaves.

The dream of the homeland

rural England

Recently I’ve been re-reading Poem for the Day One edited by Nicholas Albery. Today’s poem is a section of Rupert Brooke‘s ‘The Old Vicarage: Grantchester‘ written in 1912 while he was on a long journey in Germany. . It starts:-

Ah God! to see the branches stir
Across the moon at Grantchester.

In this expression of homesickness he describes the beauties of rural England in detail. It sounds idyllic.

Reading it I began to wonder how much of the idealisation of homeland/motherland/fatherland is created not by those in it but by those away. I suspect that most countries have a body of nostalgic literature, often poetry, written by the exiled, the war bound or the long-time traveller.

Such idylls are very pervasive. Do they still affect the way people vote or even fight?

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