I like words to be clear and simple. Depth-of-meaning can be sought using simple words accessible to everyone. A poem shouldn’t require long convoluted sentences made up of rarely-used, acculturated words to experience a moment of deep connection with nature. It’s not just the well-read intellectual who can experience the beauty and depth of a moment. Depth rises upwards and meets us where we are.
I try to capture these deep-moments in my poetry. Yellow Flower was written a few months ago while I was on holiday with friends in the Lake District. We stayed in a little village called Bootle at the West of Cumbria not far from the coast. I find that when I’m on holiday, my mind rediscovers the wonder of adventure escaping the routine of everyday living. I’m the kind of person who likes to have a few close friends rather than lots of acquaintances. It’s always a pleasure to share holidays. It’s also cheaper 😉
If you see a poem when you read a poem then maybe you have missed the point? A poem shouldn’t be bringing attention to itself as an artifact but to the experience that it is pointing to. So, don’t look at the finger that composed the poem, look at what the finger is pointing to.
Yellow Flower Yellow flower in a conservatory on a warm, late spring afternoon. We have walked from Woolpack Inn to the top of Whincrag and back past the poet’s tarn. Three people, six sturdy boots and two sticks pointing to the weather staying nice. Yellow flower in a conservatory where we’re staying on a warm, late spring afternoon with a slice of coffee cake and a moment with a bumble bee the size of a walnut, engines full blast, making use of the open door to wreak havoc and steal a crumb of calm. Yellow flower in a conservatory on a warm, late spring afternoon and now also, in a poem.