Here are three more things I posted to the
Places of Poetry map in the summer of 2019.
The first was, like some in other recent blog posts, written in response to a prompt in
Jo Bell's 52: write a poem a week. Start now. Keep going. This was prompt number 4, for a poem that's an invitation.
The Tins path is a bike route between Cambridge and the village of Cherry Hinton.
John Adams' Harmonium was known to me from having sung in a
Cambridge Philharmonic Society performance in 2009. And the invitation to cyclists is still open, though it might need some planning if accepted by many people.
INVITATION TO THE TINS PATH, CAMBRIDGE
If you know John Adams'
Harmonium,
and ride a pushbike, let's recall the drum-
roll throbbing in the quiet that will grow
riding a stretch from death to the full throw
of movement 3, 'Wild nights'. Let's do the bike
version along this path, small flat bridge like
the drums, and power in the riding rise
for that crescendo of sonorities.
The bridge won't rumble now as once, I fear,
under one bike, so let us all draw near,
a pedal-strengthened Adams multitude
in mind of that orchestral interlude.
'Chester Road' was written in 2009.
Clare and I have not yet ridden from Cambridge to Chester, but, in the summer of 2011, we did make a bike tour from Chester to Cambridge. Not sticking to Roman roads, mind.
CHESTER ROAD
Via Devana -- Chester Road -- the name
spurious, eighteenth-century invention
(rhymed, I suppose, retainer not Tirana) --
I rode northwest that turmoiling weekend,
a 90s time of names and letters reversed,
seeing how nothing could be for the best;
we ride southeast over the clunky stones,
a bouncing practice for our next bike tour,
and spend an afternoon admiring beasts.
Perhaps some day we'll take the invitation
in the road's name -- bogus but true enough --
and ride northwest to Chester, the whole way.
'A three-year cycle' is my first, and so far only, attempt to write in the form of a
pantoum. This was for a 2010 competition organised within Birkbeck College, though I forget by whom. The idea that events, or at least the emotional colours of events, move in three-year cycles has been present to me since I was about eleven, though it hasn't the importance to me now that it once did.
Reach and
Over are villages to the north of Cambridge. The quality of
Psalm 102 in its sequential place is, I admit, a thing I had already
explored from a different angle.
A THREE-YEAR CYCLE
But things move on if it's a cycle --
grey as old photos, January, bruises,
with piled-up consequences happened already.
See the sky rhymed with the street
grey as old photos, January, bruises.
Where does the three-year cycle start?
See the sky rhymed with the street
turn red-blue as daring.
Where does the three-year cycle start?
Where put the defining moment's
turn red-blue as daring?
They cycled from Cambridge to Reach.
Where put the defining moments?
They cycled from Cambridge to Over.
They cycled from Cambridge to Reach.
Green-gold as July, O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands,
they cycled from Cambridge to Over,
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture --
green-gold as July, O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands,
they ran into Psalm 102: a bruised forgetting to eat bread.
We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture --
with piled-up consequences happened already,
they ran into Psalm 102: a bruised forgetting to eat bread.
But things move on if it's a cycle.
