Tag / Poetry

by Carol J Forrester

Poetry and NYC Midnight

We’re almost halfway through June. How did that happen?

The month kicked off with a poetry at the Button Warehouse. (Normally hosted by Joy Winkler but covered this month by John Lindley). Angela Topping was guest poet, and gave fantastic readings at the start of each half from her various collections. Then the evening was turned over to the open mic, and I ended up closing the evening out with ‘Legs Eleven’ from my collection ‘It’s All In The Blood’. This was probably my favourite performance of the year so far as the atmosphere was fantastic, I made it through the poem without stumbling, and even sold a copy of my book. 

@caroljforrester

Legs Eleven at The Button Warehouse in Macclesfield 01/06/2022 #poem #poetry #TheButtonWarehouse #tiktokpoetry #tiktokpoem #spokenword #performance #feminism #bodyshaming #women #openmic #openmicnight

♬ original sound – Carol J Forrester
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by Carol J Forrester

Ten Years Learning How To Be A Poet – Part Four: Does Poetry Need To Rhyme? Does Form and Rhyme Make A Poem A Poem?

Does poetry need to rhyme? I’ve touched on this topic before and received quite a bit of feedback from other poets on WordPress, more so than I would normally receive on these style of posts. It’s a conversation that sparks debate in poetry groups of Facebook as well. I notice it cropping up when poets are asked “what piece of feedback have you received and chosen to ignore.”

In secondary school, I started writing poetry and I shared one of my poems with a friend. Her response was limited to ‘it doesn’t rhyme’, and with that she declared it wasn’t really a poem. It was an experience that taught me how black and white opinions around art can be. Something is a poem, or it isn’t, and the criteria to make it so is very specific. In reality, poetry occupies a strange spectrum where the style on one end, is utterly removed from the style at the other. Everything in-between is still poetry.

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by Carol J Forrester

Red Lipped Garden #DVersepoets #Quadrille

Despite the hosing,
stems still cling to their cobwebs.
Strands draped between limbs,
threads quivering in a threat to untangle.
Roses grow thirsty again in a moment,
stripped out of their petals
heat caught up on their thorns.
A lessening, in want of more.

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Roses

The Rosebush outside my kitchen window. 

by Carol J Forrester

Trickle Down – Working On Writing During Lock-down

At the start of this year I was planning on which poetry events I wanted to go to in order to publicise my new collection ‘It’s All In The Blood‘. I managed a few local ones, and had a slot booked to perform at a Ludlow poetry night, right at the beginning of March. Then 2020 hit its stride in the UK.

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by Carol J Forrester

When The Histories Speak Of Revolt

Misfortune comes in sets of threes,

but recently I’ve lost count of the omens

darkening these skies.

 

Understanding is important,

but so is justice, and memory to carry change

past the span of sympathetic anger.

 

All power in this world is man-made,

the bricks still sticky with greased fingerprints.

We were supposed to know better.

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