Word Play From The Leopard

The next Stoke Stanza sessions at The Leopard pub in Burslem are Tuesdays 23rd September, 14th October and 25th November all at 7.30pm.

All welcome. Come along and listen, read and engage in the chat and feedback that makes the Stanza events so valuable.

Meanwhile, here are some poems presented and discussed on 19th August.

Firstly, congratulations to Jenny Hammond whose poem Feeding Time at Gigrin was Highly Commended in The Barn Owl Trust’s 2014 Wildlife/Conservation Poetry Competition. The poem will appear in the anthology Wildlife Words Vol. 3.

FEEDING TIME AT GIGRIN | Jenny Hammond

Sheep graze the Welsh hills
where clouds
drizzle, and
chinks of sunshine work
their rainbow magic.

Mote specks from the rugged wildness
soar in the deep sky
to emerge as Red Kites,
wind hovering,
corkscrew spiralling,

plumage sun-burnished
to russet gold.
Keen eyes scan,
forked tails steer,
with wings under-lifted.

Hundreds gather,
to home in at
the appointed time,
the scattered morsels
triggering their descent.

Watched from the hides
they blizzard down
to swoop and scoop
in frenzied feeding,
then disappear.

Bo Crowder intrigued us all with his use of phonetic symbols in his poem, Isogloss Love.

ISOGLOSS LOVE (ʌɪə(ʊ)glɒs lʌv)

‘since our concern was speech, and speech impelled us
to purify the dialect of the tribe …’
Little Gidding, T S Eliot.

At what point does a buːk become a bʊk
and what can turn a luːk into a lʊk
and where do taʊns morph into tuːns
and dressing gaʊns are dressing guːns
worn in bedrʊms or should that be bedruːms?

Love the way you speak and you could sigh,
ɔɪ lʊv iːt with a lʊv as brɔɪt as dʌɪ.
Forget about homogenous
hooray for ʊz and uz and ʌs,
the source is pure, no need to purify.

For the phonetic symbols see this site.

Malcolm McMinn supplied this sonnet:

NOTHINGNESS | Malcolm McMinn

Nothingness. A black, empty vacuum,
A dark silence for all eternity;
That’s all we knew for an infinity,
A silent void, empty continuum,
Until our birth when we drew breath, saw light
And lived. This life endures for three score years
And ten, we’re told. What then? Some men have fears
Of Hell for all eternity. The sight
Of God in Paradise perhaps awaits?
Or maybe not. The men in black tell us
‘Tis so; no need for questions or debates.
But then, what if there are no pearly gates?
No Paradise, nor Hell in which to burn,
Just nothingness, to which we all return.

Geoff Sutton brought some haiku.

BRIDGE HAIKU | Geoff Sutton

dream within a dream
which one am i waking from
am i waking at all

the enemy you fight
is inside you so can
never be defeated

gold desert blue sea
trough and crest yellow and blue
metamorphosing

Leopard poetry logo

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About theleopard66

I am a member of the Stoke Stanza of The Poetry Society and run a bi-monthly Poems & Pints event in Alsager.
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