>My Private World of Writing

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Last Wednesday I went to the meeting of the Standish writers group, tomorrow I am at a writing course in Manchester at Madlab, then Wednesday the Bolton University end of year readings at the Octagon in Bolton (I am not reading, due to ridiculous practice sessions in the daytime on weekdays, and a breakdown in communication.)  Then I think the following Wednesday is another writers group this time in Manchester – phew – so I’m hopefully in line to meet some writerly (not a word) folks and learn some new stuff.  And it’s been a weekend of writing (yey!) with one of my old novels in for a controversial rewrite inspired by the flood in the Bible (yep the one with Noah) it’s a bit weird and it makes a very serious book suddenly rather bizarre.  Apart from that I have to prepare my MA piece for submission tomorrow.  I’m so sick of reading it I’ve gone a bit blind and my eyes just pass over the words, it’s time for it to be deposited in the submission box, like a parent watching his child go out into the world (a bad parent?) I just hope it’s okay.  And then at the beginning of June we break up for summer!  Projects will hopefully begin to take shape in my mind, summer is a prolific time for me, fingers crossed.  Here is a poem:
As The Cage Fell
As the cage fell
Running water running parallel
And miners breathing on each other’s necks
He felt strong down there, I guess
As close to earning money as he could
Without the worries of the surface life
Hands rough with segs and knees ingrained blood
The disappearing worries of his children and his wife
As the cage fell.
As the cage fell
Pit bottom clunk of wood and stale air
Ventilated circular; hot here and cold there
Piss and shit and methane odour stirred
The lowest foot of air as foul as death
So that you could suffocate crouching for rest
A slow sleep creeps vision being blurred
The disappearing hope and choking breath
As the cage fell.

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