DJC

FIrst poem in years. Go easy on me. Actually, don't. I can take it. Thought I'd start with a challenge. How on earth do you write about something like a slug? Honestly? With great difficulty. 

My flash for this week. 

My cat-machine poem. I did enjoy doing this. 

My flash for this week. More bleak and depressing stuff, I'm afraid. Next week I'll write about kittens, I promise... 

A total rewrite, trying to be more honest. A different boy this time, one who was always having 'serious chats' with me about how hard his life was. Poor lad. Original is underneath. 

My first attempt at flashing. Legally, anyway. 

I saw a programme last week on anorexia, and this prompted the below. 

The second draft of an idea I've been batting around in poetry form on poetry II, about a friend of ours who had a sudden mental breakdown, just before Christmas. 

Another draft, this time a bit longer, at 7 stanzas, and definitely not a sonnet, although I've tried to keep to 10 syllables per line.  

The final draft. 

In the UK, teachers' INSET at the beginning of term usually consists of looking at league tables and value added, or maybe moaning about Ruth Kelly. In the Alps, we roll around in snow and find bits of plastic which emit a beep. This poem is about a talk we had on avalanches, in case we ever end up with a buried child on our hands (or under our feet).