Beautiful words and pictures as ever. I like the apparent sense that Winter brings you a period of contemplation, recharging and recalibration.
In all honesty, I get very conflicted with your unrequited love poetry. I feel such affrontery on behalf of the writer (yeah, I know - that would be you, but I’m attempting to depersonalise the way I’m expressing it if I can) that it’s almost a physically uncomfortable sensation to read - but it is such good writing that it is impossible to look away.
This is something that your readership should be grateful for - that you are willing to share in this way and that things of great beauty are forged from the furnace of trial and tribulation.
Winter Birds is my favourite here. The linguistic dexterity takes my breath away, particularly the 3rd stanza.
Yes, I recall we talked about schmaltz before (the Yiddish word for chicken fat that makes any dish taste good), I think in relation to jazz music. It can be satisfying to wallow in sound or sentimentality but it risks being at the expense of meaning. In my own writing, I think I sometimes sacrificed plot and pace by saturation with flippancy and humour. But I do think that your essence as a writer always shows through strongly enough that you can get away with plenty of playfulness, linguistically.
That was such a lovely selection, and beautifully illustrated. Thank you so much. Your work always makes my heart beat a bit faster; it has such confidence and power.
Beautiful descriptive poems as usual Julie, particularly reminding me of the emotions and memories of childhood when life seemed so simple. When sitting on a bench with your mum feeding the ducks, or being pushed on a swing was such an innocent delight. Life was so much less complicated and I think a lot of people are now hankering after that life..
When I was a child the winters were so much colder and snow stayed on the ground for up to six weeks in London (imagine!), pipes were frozen, but again there was the simple joy of snowball throwing, making your own sled and finding the nearest hill to zoom down. The bonus of snow of course is that it also covered the more scruffier areas and all landscapes took on a white glow. It was rejuvenating as you say, but my favourite seasons are Spring and Autumn. In Spring it’s warming up and the plants and trees are bright green with new growth, in late summer/Autumn cooler but with the bright reds and browns...
Sorry for going off on a tangent, but you have a wonderful skill of stirring up memories...❤️
I very much appreciate (as always) your comments. Nice to know I’m not just talking to myself!
I think I appreciate all the seasons in their own way. Perhaps i was a bit harsh on summer- i do like early summer before it gets too much. And my birthday is in Spring so that’s always been a reason to like it!
Yes, the lack of free play/opportunities is tremendously sad but we are where we are and there is still plenty we can do with our own kids/grandkids. :)
Agree the opportunities to enjoy some of these pleasures are still there, albeit more restricted for “safety” reasons 🫤, but I think the recent push to make women go out to work whether they want to or not, and made to feel guilty about staying at home to do the very important job of enjoying and raising their children until at least they start school, has been the downside of modern life.
I know a lot of this has happened because of financial pressures, but I hate the thought that some babies are now put into nurseries from 3-6 months old so that both parents can work with the result they are exhausted at the end of the week and the children have not experienced the parenting I had with mum being at home (until I started school).
I know I’m old school, but maybe this has been a major reason why women are reluctant to have children now, or just have one, and also why the divorce rate is high because of these pressures?
Different times but not better in my opinion...maybe a poem on the constant quest for the “material” things in life?
Choice is a good thing, coercion is not. Many women no longer feel they are able to stay home with their children, either because of financial constraint or societal pressure and as all of it, children and babies bear the brunt of it, sadly.
Combine that with a generation of mothers glued to their phones and babies being subsequently deprived of important eye contact and it really makes for an unpleasant forecast, sadly.
Though I am opposite to you in preferring summer your poems do, as is almost always the case, put into words so beautifully my thoughts and feelings (particularly regarding relationships) so much better than I ever could.
The bench is beautiful, for my mum and me it was a playground swing, not one I remember though but one she told me about sitting on with me when I was little :) xxx
Thank you, lovely. I have some lovely swing memories too.
My son used to fall asleep in them, bless him. Just how???😂
And now I’m wondering
“Did I ever take any pictures of him on that bench? Did I?”
I’m probably guilty of over romanticising it. That’s memories for you though, hey? It’s what we do. Take a moment, paint and varnish it as we see fit. Then insist that’s how it was.
With mum she said she remembered sitting with me on the swing wondering each time if it would be the last, as children grow and don’t want to go to parks eventually. Your poems teach out and touch thoughts and memories that are buried (or at times hidden) and that’s a wonderful talent :) x
Thanks. It’s strange what you find yourself angry about sometimes. I was really mad they’d replaced that tatty old bench and then found myself having a little chat with myself;
“hmm…. now why is that?”
And yeah it’s just pondering whether we need the physical things there as markers or if the real memories will always be there regardless. Of course the latter is true but it gets a little scary without the concrete there as ‘proof’.
I’m never sure whether to post poems singularly or save them up and post a few together.
Beautiful words and pictures as ever. I like the apparent sense that Winter brings you a period of contemplation, recharging and recalibration.
In all honesty, I get very conflicted with your unrequited love poetry. I feel such affrontery on behalf of the writer (yeah, I know - that would be you, but I’m attempting to depersonalise the way I’m expressing it if I can) that it’s almost a physically uncomfortable sensation to read - but it is such good writing that it is impossible to look away.
This is something that your readership should be grateful for - that you are willing to share in this way and that things of great beauty are forged from the furnace of trial and tribulation.
Winter Birds is my favourite here. The linguistic dexterity takes my breath away, particularly the 3rd stanza.
That was my favourite one to write too. I had lots of fun playing with marrying sounds on that one, yes.
It’s always hard to know when to stop with that sort of thing. When does it complement and when does it overpower.
For me, any meaning or feeling has to come first and technique must be applied as seasoning.
Can’t be too heavy handed with the salt 😂
Yes, I recall we talked about schmaltz before (the Yiddish word for chicken fat that makes any dish taste good), I think in relation to jazz music. It can be satisfying to wallow in sound or sentimentality but it risks being at the expense of meaning. In my own writing, I think I sometimes sacrificed plot and pace by saturation with flippancy and humour. But I do think that your essence as a writer always shows through strongly enough that you can get away with plenty of playfulness, linguistically.
That was such a lovely selection, and beautifully illustrated. Thank you so much. Your work always makes my heart beat a bit faster; it has such confidence and power.
Aww thank you Julia.
I love this time of year.
It’s so raw and raw in the best way.
I agree. Every season has its own charm.
Beautiful descriptive poems as usual Julie, particularly reminding me of the emotions and memories of childhood when life seemed so simple. When sitting on a bench with your mum feeding the ducks, or being pushed on a swing was such an innocent delight. Life was so much less complicated and I think a lot of people are now hankering after that life..
When I was a child the winters were so much colder and snow stayed on the ground for up to six weeks in London (imagine!), pipes were frozen, but again there was the simple joy of snowball throwing, making your own sled and finding the nearest hill to zoom down. The bonus of snow of course is that it also covered the more scruffier areas and all landscapes took on a white glow. It was rejuvenating as you say, but my favourite seasons are Spring and Autumn. In Spring it’s warming up and the plants and trees are bright green with new growth, in late summer/Autumn cooler but with the bright reds and browns...
Sorry for going off on a tangent, but you have a wonderful skill of stirring up memories...❤️
I very much appreciate (as always) your comments. Nice to know I’m not just talking to myself!
I think I appreciate all the seasons in their own way. Perhaps i was a bit harsh on summer- i do like early summer before it gets too much. And my birthday is in Spring so that’s always been a reason to like it!
Yes, the lack of free play/opportunities is tremendously sad but we are where we are and there is still plenty we can do with our own kids/grandkids. :)
Agree the opportunities to enjoy some of these pleasures are still there, albeit more restricted for “safety” reasons 🫤, but I think the recent push to make women go out to work whether they want to or not, and made to feel guilty about staying at home to do the very important job of enjoying and raising their children until at least they start school, has been the downside of modern life.
I know a lot of this has happened because of financial pressures, but I hate the thought that some babies are now put into nurseries from 3-6 months old so that both parents can work with the result they are exhausted at the end of the week and the children have not experienced the parenting I had with mum being at home (until I started school).
I know I’m old school, but maybe this has been a major reason why women are reluctant to have children now, or just have one, and also why the divorce rate is high because of these pressures?
Different times but not better in my opinion...maybe a poem on the constant quest for the “material” things in life?
Off tangent again..🫢
I agree.
Choice is a good thing, coercion is not. Many women no longer feel they are able to stay home with their children, either because of financial constraint or societal pressure and as all of it, children and babies bear the brunt of it, sadly.
Combine that with a generation of mothers glued to their phones and babies being subsequently deprived of important eye contact and it really makes for an unpleasant forecast, sadly.
Though I am opposite to you in preferring summer your poems do, as is almost always the case, put into words so beautifully my thoughts and feelings (particularly regarding relationships) so much better than I ever could.
The bench is beautiful, for my mum and me it was a playground swing, not one I remember though but one she told me about sitting on with me when I was little :) xxx
Thank you, lovely. I have some lovely swing memories too.
My son used to fall asleep in them, bless him. Just how???😂
And now I’m wondering
“Did I ever take any pictures of him on that bench? Did I?”
I’m probably guilty of over romanticising it. That’s memories for you though, hey? It’s what we do. Take a moment, paint and varnish it as we see fit. Then insist that’s how it was.
With mum she said she remembered sitting with me on the swing wondering each time if it would be the last, as children grow and don’t want to go to parks eventually. Your poems teach out and touch thoughts and memories that are buried (or at times hidden) and that’s a wonderful talent :) x
Aww thank you. You have a lovely Monday xx
Bench. Loved it.
As a mother of a boy, that one really resonated. x
Thanks. It’s strange what you find yourself angry about sometimes. I was really mad they’d replaced that tatty old bench and then found myself having a little chat with myself;
“hmm…. now why is that?”
And yeah it’s just pondering whether we need the physical things there as markers or if the real memories will always be there regardless. Of course the latter is true but it gets a little scary without the concrete there as ‘proof’.