The Fiction Factory

Poetry

It struck me the other day that I haven’t blogged about poetry. Looking at my book shelves I have a number of individual collections and anthologies which I dip into on a regular basis. Being Scottish, I was brought up with Robert Burns and had to learn by heart a number of his poems. I won a school competition for reciting his poetry and this continues to be a strong influence today. I recall when I was very young my grandmother reciting poems from memory. One in particular was a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson called The Charge of the Light Brigade and as a youngster the fact she could do this fascinated me. She was from a generation that did this. It was a culture that when families and friends met up, everyone had what was called a ‘party piece.’ This was either a song or a poem that you performed for the group and not doing so was not an option.

I have written poetry and have stacks of it hidden away on my hard drive. No one reads it and I haven’t published any. I did a long time ago on this blog, but those pages have long since been deleted. I’ve managed to put my stories out, but my poems and indeed the songs I’ve written are for myself. That’s not to say I won’t put them up one day, but that day isn’t here yet.

I read a little poetry most days. I sit throughout the day in arms reach of my bookcase so there’s no excuse not to. I’ve always loved language and how words can take on different meanings and I’ve never lost that fascination.

When I was deep in the edits of The Kill Chain, my editor noted I had used the expression ‘she bit her lip’ and she pulled me up for it as it was used extensively in Fifty Shades of Grey and she didn’t like the book or that phrase so told me it had to go. Fair enough. For whatever reason I told her I had written a poem a long time back which was sending up that genre and how many writers jumped on that particular bandwagon. Thinking back it was an odd thing to write a poem about, but anyway, she asked to see it and without thinking I emailed it over. I can’t imagine what I was thinking. She replied back it was a good poem, so I will take that.

I was fortunate to have some great English teachers at school and in my second year at High School my teacher taught Sylvia Plath. Thinking back that was a defining moment for me. I had never read anything like her poems, especially her later work. I think it was unusual to be given such material at the time, but it worked for me. For my higher English I had to study the metaphysical poets, in particular John Donne which was challenging, but I coped. I went on to sit Sixth Year Studies in English, but didn’t do the subject at University. A fellow student at the time wrote their dissertation on the lyrics of Bob Dylan (I’m a massive fan of all of Dylan’s work) while I opted to do J.R.R. Tolkien The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.

It was because of Dylan that I wrote songs and lyrics that were pretty obscure and surreal. I don’t bother with the ‘are lyrics really poetry’ debate. To me it’s all words and I enjoy both. Dylan name-checked poets such as Rimbaud and Verlaine, and Ezra Pound and T.S Eliot so that had me looking them up and reading for myself.

I discovered the stories of Edgar Allan Poe from a young age and he wrote some poetry too. The Raven is a particular favourite. I recall hearing The Beatles I am the Walrus from an early age and being intrigued by the use of language in the lyric. The mid sixties Dylan has always been inspiring and lyrics such as Desolation Row and Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands still move me today. This also led me to reading The Beat poets, such as Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and Gregory Corso.

When I was at University it wasn’t unusual to be carrying a couple of books around in a bag (I had a green satchel which matched my combat jacket) because it’s what we did then. There were no phones and I travelled everywhere by bus or train so that provided a good chunk of time to be reading and jotting down notes in my journal. I regularly carried a copy of T.S. Eliot Collected Poems 1909-1962, The Waste Land being a particular favourite of mine. Still is in fact and one I read to this day.

My first job after University was working for the library service. My role was to cover for those on holiday and open, manage and close various branches around the area. I still didn’t drive at that point and again it involved a lot of bus journeys. Every so often the library would sell off books and I had first look and grabbed a hardback edition of The Life of Dylan Thomas by Constantine Fitzgibbon. This book blew me away. I started to carry a copy of Dylan Thomas Collected Poems 1934-1952. Apparently the actor Richard Burton was buried with a copy of this book.

Before I finish, I must mention Emily Dickinson. It’s funny how I remember the first time I read some of her work and was astonished at her use of language and how long ago she was writing. I will make a point of returning to this post and blog more at a later date.