Wednesday, 29 August 2012

It's been Six Months...

Six months ago today (and on a Wednesday too!) I finally got married to Carl! I wanted to share my happy memories of that day and also some snippets from poems that have been inspired by Carl, they say that love is the greatest muse! :)


'I fell for you when the story began.
                                      The moving pictures lit our path to take
                                                       

and it made my dark blood tingle.'                                                                                      

From Essence of Orange (Silver Threads)



I wore a green dress and Carl wore a purple shirt. I made my own bouquet of white roses and irises (even though the florist said it would 'look stupid' - I showed him! lol) It was a really lovely day, it was a small wedding with just the important people to witness it. I didn't realise how different Carl and me really were until after the wedding, I mean people talk about having a 'different' wedding - something that is uniquely them, but how many people really go through with it!? They all seem to end up having the same 'off the peg' wedding - just like everyone else. Examples - everyone usually has champagne or wine afterwards but Carl and me wanted Vodka! lol 



'Enfolded into,
                his arms, his
                                scent of sugared dark earth

                                                          His taste of,
                                                                        fresh salted caramel.'
                                                                                   'Sanctuary' 2012

So I hope you have enjoyed reading a bit more about me and my Wedding, here is to the next six months! :) We chose to get married on  Leap Year Day and won't have a proper anniversary until 2016! but I can promise you that when out 'first' anniversary comes around we will have a big celebration. Below is the video of 'our song', we chose all our own music for after the wedding and this one is my favourites! None of that classical mush for me. It's quite atmospheric and a bit dark, but what better for a poets Wedding! 'Blue Jeans' by Lana Del Rey is just fantastic, enjoy :)



Love,

loves most,
a story


Sunday, 26 August 2012

Believe in Something ...



Yes that is my hand! The very hand that writes all the fantastic poetry and writings on here! lol (egotistical moment over with now)  

I really enjoy experimenting with writing my poetry and other quotes on different things, like skin for example! Also in earlier posts I have used some of Carl's artwork and tried my hand at some gothic 'Tim Burton' style handwriting to show off my poetry in a new and interesting light. I think I will be trying some more of these writing experiments, if anyone has any suggestions I would love to hear from you. 

The quote written across my hand is from some of my automatic writing. It sounds like an amazing quote to me, maybe it will become a famous quote and become a Facebook picture quote, probably with a picture of dolphins behind it or kittens or something! :) That would be fun and secure my place in immortality (if it's not already secured!) 

In other news I have had one of my new poems called 'Static' accepted for a poetry ezine! I will let you all know more when closer to the date (I won't be featured until the October edition) and I will keep you all informed with the progress of the paperback version of 'Silver Threads' 

Have an amazing Bank Holiday Weekend everyone 

Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Automatic Writing #3


In this rain there would be ice crystals, held fast to the heart of the storm and they would open into paper snowflakes as large as your palm when they felt the kiss of the ground and cover everything with a paper softness and carpet the world in unfurled lace. And she would see them and know what she was called, her name meaning ‘she who walks the world alone’ having her name split before her onto the crystalised grass. She picked it up in pieces and set it out again, spelling it out in a thousand different ways with a million different dialects and still when spoken it rolled off the tongue in a sound like footprints in the snow, slow and crisp, holding something back, holding back the very essence of a snowflake.

I asked her once what she owned? 'I own nothing of material, food or wealth but I share the sky with you today and I will share the rain with you tomorrow.'  She asked if this was enough for me…
I could not answer such an innocent question, my lips tightened around the words as they formed from my own sense of longing. I was too tired and felt so wizened to respond with anything other than what had been said to me before, about the constructs of reality and what is or isn’t real. She showed me something that wasn’t real and I couldn’t look at it, my mind kept turning my head away from this beautiful pale blue pearl of a being, but I couldn’t and she shrouded it in murky 'what ifs' and I could see again.



These automatic writings of mine are far too interesting for me to keep to myself! lol 
Expect to see these as a regular feature from now on :)

This is an excerpt from a writing session the other day, sitting with the heat of the August sun burning my legs! lol It reads like a fairy tale and I thinks it's magical. I think this is heavily influenced by 'The Snow Child' by Eowyn Ivey, which I have recently read and if anyone is interested I would highly recommend it, it's a beautiful story. My favourite lines from this piece of automatic writing are;

I asked her once what she owned? 'I own nothing of material, food or wealth but I share the sky with you today and I will share the rain with you tomorrow.' She asked if this was enough for me…

I put these as an excerpt from my automatic writings on an earlier post, but they are still my  favourite lines, there is such childlike innocence held in them I think.

In other news I am extremely excited! I think I have invented a new genre of poetry! (remember I have the copyright and you heard it here first :) ..... Steampunk Poetry - I have an awful feeling that someone is now going to send me an email, stating when and where they first came up with the idea! I am so fascinated by this idea and have already written two 'steampunk' poems, with more ideas brewing. I will be featuring one of the poems for my 'New Poem of the Month for September' on the 1st, so please come back and check that out. 

Sunday, 19 August 2012

Another 5 Star Review of 'Silver Threads'




The lovely Nicki J Markus, the Australian book blogger that I spoke of in an earlier post has written a review of 'Silver Threads' that is bursting at the seams with praise! I wish you could all see the big smile on my face.


You can read the full review on her blog, it's also available on Good Reads. Below is a little excerpt from it ~


'Kennedy's grasp of the English language is stunning as she weaves beautiful, evocative images in the space of a few short lines.'


All of this praise for 'Silver Threads' is swelling my ego! lol but in a good way! I am finally starting to believe that people really do love my poetry, it's not just my family being biased because they love me :) 

I hope you all enjoy the review and have a great weekend. 

Thursday, 16 August 2012

Poetry News and Sappho



Although they are 

only breath, words 


which I command


                          are immortal













This is a beautiful poem by Sappho that I discovered on Poem Hunter it is entitled 'Although They Are' but since this is the first line of the poem I think it might not have a 'proper' title since a lot of Sappho's poems are fragmented. It is so beautiful and a heartwarming thought that my words are immortal, as Sappho now is :)

In other news 'Silver Threads' is going to be reviewed again soon by a lovely Aussie book blogger. I don't know when since she told me she has a huge 'to-be-read' pile, and I can well believe it since all book bloggers at the moment are being inundated, but I will let you all know when it's on her blog. 
Also I have a guest post slot on another Aussie blog, titled 'Poetry and Me', again I don't know when exactly this will be, but I'll keep you all informed. 

I have been writing a lot of automatic writing and trying to stick to the goal I set myself to write some everyday ( I have missed some days already, so I'm not doing well! lol ) There will be another post soon with more excerpts, I hope my readers are enjoying them. Here is an excerpt from some automatic writing I wrote just yesterday;



'I asked her once what she owned? I own nothing of material, food or wealth but I share the sky with you today and I will share the rain with you tomorrow, she asked if this was enough for me…'



I don't know where it comes from, but I like it! :) 

Sunday, 12 August 2012

Nocturnal


I am still awake,
as the night holds its hypnotic grip
over the unconscious.
I sit and challenge it in silent defiance.
There is no reason to sleep.
There is no reason to stay awake.
I remain in moonlit limbo
playing games of chance
with my deepest thoughts.
If I fall to the lullaby of sleep
I will miss the display of the
ever moving stars
as they race towards the dawn.

I will miss the sun rising
over the North sea 
when it lights the beaches of England
with grey, October sunlight.
I want to view a new day with critical eyes, 
with memories of deals made in the darkness.
For when morning comes,
my resolutions made at 4am,
evaporate like mist burnt by the sun.
Daytime is my enemy for it brings
responsibilities
 


I have decided that enough is enough! I have been holding on to this poem and many like it for months. I sent 'Nocturnal' off to an ezine back on the 9th of January! When you send off a  poem/piece of writing to anywhere, it instantly becomes off limits, it is tied up until they say that want or don't want your work. Never mind the fact that the poem has to be completely unpublished before you send it, some of them never have the common courtesy to even send an email back to say no! So how long do you wait? a month? three? six? Well I don't send much of my poetry in to magazines/ezines anymore, I'm much happier to share them on here with my readers :)

So anyway, that's my little rant over with. I have always been a night owl, I would rather stay up and see the sun rise then be waking up to watch it. I think there is something inspiring about the early morning when it's still dark and everything is eerily still. I do most of my writing at night and 'Nocturnal' was written at 5am one morning a few years ago. My favourite lines are; 

'For when morning comes,
my resolutions made at 4am,
evaporate like mist burnt by the sun'

I have lost count of the amount of times I have realised something late at night or set a goal/plan for the future that then becomes pointless when the morning comes. It's as if anything is possible at night, no wonder we use the phrase 'in the cold light of day' 

Wednesday, 8 August 2012

My Love of History



The Bitterness of Kings 

He sat facing the amber light from the fire, a sleek greyish black hound curled near his feet, stretching and snoozing in the warmth.
He was slowly turning the pages of his latest rare possession, the velum pages turning over crisply, the gold from the illumined pages flickered with scenes of life, he stroked the image of a divine king and smiled in his crooked, vulpine way.
Ever since he could remember he had longed for this, he swore to himself that those that had mocked him would stand in fear under his reign.
He idly touched his bearded face, his hands heavy with rings, each finger adorned with vast wealth.
It would never be enough, all this gold and wealth was nothing to what his deceitful barons kept from him, he was sure they lied to him, their so-called innocent faces never faltering as they denied him his rights; I am the anointed King and they dare to talk behind their filthy hands about my lack of honour!
He swallowed his bitterness, it always held more venom when it was controlled, hardened into a swift, blade edge of aggression directed at the throat of some well deserving grovelling subject.


Prayer

He had crept into the church before the sun had even dimly lit the horizon. His hands, clasped in prayer, held to his blistering lips, stumbling over his words of frantic devotion and heartfelt pleas. The world was on its knees, the pillars were crumbling and all around him were the dying, dead and hopeless. Tears spiked his thick lashes and rolled down his cheeks, it was all too much to bear. How could anyone live, feeling like death was everywhere, like a yellow bile lingering on every pock marked face and every polished stone. The repetition of the beads through his worn hands was highlighted by the rising sun, illuminating a stained glass window of the Saints' lives.
-o-o-o-


Even though this blog is called 'Poetry Musings' I have sometimes included writing on here that isn't poetry or poetic in anyway! lol But people are a combination of all sorts of interests and beliefs and so am I. If I'm not writing, I'm reading and I know that this is very common  amongst writers. My books of choice are poetry books and historical fiction. I wanted to share my history based writings and share a bit more about myself, away from my love of poetry.

'The Bitterness of Kings' is loosely based on King John (1199 -1216) probably best known for losing some of his royal treasures in The Wash and being the bad King in Robin Hood. I think he was a complex man, very insecure! He was called 'John Lackland' simply because he was the youngest son and no one believed he would ever have any power, let alone one day become King. 

'Prayer' is based on the plague/black death. If anyone knew me as a child they would agree that I was obsessed with the plague! The first time I heard about it (probably at school) I was captivated. The notion of a vast plague killing off people in their millions and no way to stop it was just incredible to me. Even now I like virus-end-of-the-world films and love watching medical documentaries. What fascinates me most about the plague is wanting to understand what psychological damage living in a dying world did to the God-fearing medieval mind.

Rebel Heiress by Fiona Mountain
I am reading 'Rebel Heiress' by Fiona Mountain right now and it's an amazingly interesting read. I don't think it is based on a 'real' people but the events that the main characters are involved in are real. It explores what it would have been like to be an intelligent women in the late 1600s. If the main character was alive and kicking today she would surely have become a scientist. I love books that feature women and their struggle against a male dominated world. I wonder what some women could have become if they hadn't lived in a society that demanded that they were nothing more then pretty objects, cooks and baby makers. It's a sad fact that this sometimes still has an effect on women to this day.

I hope you have enjoyed having a peek into the history obsessed part of me :) lol Happy Wednesday.

Sunday, 5 August 2012

Automatic Writing #2


He admitted he was lost only when she curled his thoughts within a rose, a rose that flowered only under a waxing moon and was the colour of fresh stars. She let him stay with her and the colour red under a willow tree in the rain, the rain sounded like pebbles hitting a placid pond and causing slow ripples of consequence. She had eyes like chipped obsidian and laughed often at the words that fell from his speech and lay heavy on the blue grass, drunk and noxious. Sweet songs of sweet July, played out by an orchestra far away, up high on clouds paved with juicy tempting shades.

I could not and would not be her anymore, in any way, with or without her smoke, her beautiful illusion, her confusion, delusions. To me she was a man, with the spirit of a man and the ties of a man, born under the tithes of a man and still she yearned to give and receive without faith. I want to be a flower in your garden, lounging against a warm bed, next to a golden rose, sleep under the stars and dream of Tudor England and that time we were together and free to please each other. No don’t do it Freya, don’t give him the time of the sunrise and sunset, for he will abandon the tides and all the world shall know your lies. You are too trusting to fall against his ridged form, be like the wind, drift away onto another landscape. I fear that many are too late to see the comet burn a path across the sky and view the stars, chase after its glory and fill the gaps it left behind in its journey from here to immortality. Weep with me for stone coloured people and forgive them their fears, they are broken vases of a miracle’s pure image and they deserve not pity, just honesty.    


I am getting quite a large collection of automatic writings now. I am thoroughly enjoying writing them and quite surprised at what comes out. Some of the imagery is fantastic, even if I do say so myself. As I said last time I posted some of my automatic writings, some of this could end up in a new  poem.
Sometimes I worry myself though, that I can just sit down and start writing and this is what comes forth! This is probably what is flowing around in my mind day after day! It's making me start to ask 'Am I really quite with reality?' but then who would want to be if they could choose! lol

I hope you are all having a fantastic weekend :)

Wednesday, 1 August 2012

New Poem of the Month for August - The Daydreamer


Within these dusty,
                         daily thoughts
lives a flight of fancy
A fantastic notion to be free
To run away with the rain clouds,
to go with them where ever they go

This waking dream of mine, 
                                       knows nothing of limitations
It paints the sky with possibility
It sees what can never be imagined

I am a daydreamer


'The Daydreamer' very nearly made it into 'Silver Threads' 

I think this poem will appeal to everyone, since we are all daydreamers. I would love to hear from my readers of any daydreams you have and what you think they say about you as a person. I remember when I used to daydream at school that I could stop time and would wonder what I would do if it ever happened. These daydreams usually entailed me walking out of school or causing trouble, writing swear words on the walls and no-one would know how they suddenly appeared! lol   - that sort of thing.

In other news I am still writing away and always will be, but I seem to be in more of a reading mood at the moment and have 6 books on the go! 2 poetry books, 2 historical fiction, a book of Irish short stories and a self-help book.

Happy Wednesday :)