There’s all these
small purple flowers
in the forest and the bowers
of neglected front gardens
behind bins and mowers
and I feel like I never saw them before
they probably don’t last long
brave little shoots
growing away insouciant
are they larkspur?
symbol of love, ardent
Life
Goes
On
What will I do
with the view from my window
my own slice of building-behinds
and trees, the Catholic church spire
in the distance like a giant watch
on a pin
and the way the air shakes
every quarter-hour
vibrates
from the Reformation church nextdoor, out of shot
my white room
my tower, not ivory but
maybe sometimes I feel like
I’m in a precious high-up spot,
far from the world
like the empress in Neverending story
flying through space
with warm lights on and
Give me a name, Bastian!
so my domain is remade
I’m really here with dusty piles
of books that may be read
notepads filled with ink
spilled through with words,
lists, oh they just keep flowing
no matter how afraid or sad I get
I have built my life anew
and when I look out at
those trees and backs of flats
the kindergarten playground
where the foxes live
must remember that
it’s all mine, all mine, not owned
just like I carry the Pool of London
turbulent, tea-coloured Thames
strong, with still a whiff
of Elizabethan sweat and
Dickensian toil
the thriving grime of unwashed success
grit of an ancestor locked in
a prison hulk perhaps
so too, this Swiss scene is kept
inside
and yesterday, the trees so green
the fresh young leaves of spring
and did my heart ache with sadness
desolate, or was it merely glad to see
that once again
Photo: Claire Doble
My professional competencies
Easily stretch to jargon
And going forward
I’m glad you reached out
There’s some latency
In the system
We’re aiming to exploit the synergies
In 104-word sentences like:
In turn, this should translate into, on the one hand, increased value of the physical assets which are being developed or redeveloped – measured as actual increase of house/office prices and rents and of investment in the area – and, on the other hand, into increased competitiveness and inclusiveness of the area, measured as an increase in the number of people willing to move in and visit, in the duration of their permanence, but also, not less importantly, in their diversity (including in terms of economic background and educational levels) and in the number and performances of high-value businesses and service providers located in the area.
Best, warm, kind, sincere regards
Claire Doble
Liquid
in a bottle or pooled
in the sink
limpid
wet eyes
drink the sight
of vast lakes and
muddy puddles
curl of an ocean wave
jaunty froth
a spill of lace
jabot at the throat of a Victorian gent
dried red creek bed
and electric green ferns
tiny glints
water winks
guarded carefully by leaves of sword
fishtank in a bar
with a shark
there’s protests
unheeded, pouring wine
into bodies
getting tanked
watching creatures swim
become one with fluid
gasp for more
return to primal states
float in ultraviolet bubbles
while lodged in our collective hippocampi are
ancient memories
of drinking air for the very first time
It was with some trepidation that I looked back on my “writing goals for 2018” post this week to see if I’d achieved what I set out to. I somehow remembered that I’d been too ambitious and I really hate and fear failure. But I was pleasantly surprised to see I’d known from the start that this year was all about finding paid work and that would mean my own writing would suffer.
I guess it’s fair to say, I’m pleased to have achieved what I set out to do – get a job. But I’m also sad that this meant, as predicted, way less creative writing for me. However, despite saying I wouldn’t manage it, I did end up doing most of GloPoWriMo2018 global poetry month in April, so that was a bonus. I did submit a few poems, short stories and creative non-fiction but all were rejected and I didn’t have time or the jive to revisit/rework them and keep submitting. Rejection stings. Then some family issues mid-year, combined with starting work really diverted all my energy to survival-mode.
I’ve been on somewhat of a journey this year (forever). My birthday falls in January and 2018 was a significant one that made me reassess a lot of my ideas and habits. It’s a process that is ongoing but I’d also like to acknowledge here the hard work I’ve done throughout the past 12+ months that’s along the lines of trying to be my “Best self”. This has involved mental and physical undertakings.
I’ve been trying really hard to shed some outdated beliefs / habits / addictions and insecurities. I’m not 100% there (is anyone, ever?) but I think I’ve made progress. And it’s part of the journey to take a moment to congratulate myself. It has not always been easy or enjoyable, although sometimes it has! Well done, Claire.
A big part of this year has been my running, too. It’s funny, when we moved to Zurich five years ago a friend here mentioned “there’s great running trails here,” as a selling point at the time. To which I scoffed dismissively “not interested, that is NOT my thing. At all. Ever! ” Well never say never. In 2018 I clocked up more than 1,000km of running. I’m stupidly proud of this. Not just because it’s a big number but because it means I was consistent. In rain, hail, snow, sun, heat, blahblah I kept on jogging all year. I went for runs in Zurich, Rome, Sydney, Porto, Perth, Ocean Shores, Dübendorf and Venice and I completed my first-ever Half-Marathon. And, to tie it back to my previous point: running has hugely helped my mental health.
It’s been an interesting year. When I look at my blog stats, they’re way down on 2017, which was a wonderfully flourishing period for my writing AND I did the 26Cantons52Weeks to boot. I wrote some decent stuff in 2018. I was going to say the quality had suffered, but I just read everything and… well… I like it! But I also know the difference it makes to write regularly, as I was doing in 2017. So I hope to get back to that in 2019. However, I am going to err on the side of sensible because I don’t want to set myself up to fail. So what are some reasonable goals…
Happy (almost) new year! What are your goals for 2019?
Photo: a wicked angel my son made at school
all the white horses were spooked today
under a cloud-scudded mackerel sky
cows sat down in the odd warm wind
waiting for autumn to arrive
knowing nothing more
than studded stones and asphalt smooth
step, step, stepping stubborness
running blind in forest-dark groves
could not remember
as boots pulled up to knees
back to summer, and a paper-bag skirt
what
how
who
I’d decided to be
keep getting glimmers
of the before feelings
I can
double take
recall
somethinglike
the way
it was going to be and I thought
thoughttried triedthought so hard
didn’t I
I guess that moonflower
still exists because
look
they’re still reaching for it
I’m threading chunks of time on a string
bloody purplish gristly cubes
they slip sinewy and slick on my fingers and
stain the sheets
spatters of strawberry red
give off the sexy-filthy intimate smell of beach coves away from the wind
where it’s warm and protected and the ocean’s sweat lazes in postcoital gentleness
while the sound of the breakers booms a satisfying distance above, beyond
seagulls cry and tease the ragged exciting air up there
but we’re safe here
except for
those grisly bits of meat, the bits of time I want to eat
stick in my teeth
and taste of
juniper berries and suncream and peanut butter and aged reisling today
tomorrow it’s salted caramel, meat pies, prosecco and lonelieness
so beautiful that
I want to spew them back up and taste them fresh, yet
on each regurgitation they’re more grey and flavourless
senseless time, and time rotting on my plate
Skipping ahead to day 26: a poem that includes images that engage all five senses.
No bugs on the windshield
Because we drive faster!
Because we are modern
And life is better
Europe’s advancing
A world leader!
Oh, bugger.
In response to this week’s news on a dramatic drop in insect numbers
Photo: Claire Doble
One of my poems was published in a local literary magazine, The Woolf. I’m pretty chuffed …
Two Woolf readers respond to the theme …
Short work of nonfiction by Marie Hélène Prosper
It is alarmingly dark in my dream.
I try to grasp the blackness before me when all at once bills of money materialize, in tens, twenties or more, and come flying towards me from all directions. All the money I possess. I reach out and grab handfuls from all around, piling the bills on the ground. I strike a match and throw it over the whole thing, onto this heap that contains my material worth, my life savings, my security. I watch as fire catches; a small piece crackles, sparks a flame and sends tinsels flitting about in the air. I am astonished by the finality of my act as I look on and it all burns to ashes.
I feel emotions rise and swell then, as my night-world of dreams recedes and vanishes along with…
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