Osteochondritis Dissecans

art-made-by-nature-dried-up-river-delta-960x630

“desecrated spaces, the rivers
of me, these capillaries drying up
at their tips”

Last Wednesday, I ran the last workshop (of four) at M Shed museum, around their excellent Skeletons exhibition.

As well as spending time with loads of brilliant young writers, from three schools and those who’d come to the summer holiday workshop – I felt like I’d gotten to know those bones rather well.

Being as I like to model reading out writing I’ve just written, I did a lot of it before and during the sessions. We looked at Simon Armitage’s poem Ankylosing Spondilitis (which appears in the anthology Signs and Humours: The Poetry of Medicine) during the workshops – and I encouraged participants to find a term in the exhibition and write around it. This is what I came up with:

Osteochondritis Dissecans
– after Simon Armitage, Ankylosing Spondylitis
– for all the Skeletons.

Osteo – relating to the bones
chond – conned – chondritis – itis
which makes things inflammatory
and dissecans – like desiccated coconut
like desecrated spaces, the rivers

of me, these capillaries drying up
at their tips, ceasing to flow, ground
of my bones splintering, tilting up
sharp fragments of bark
into the soft skies of my muscles
which mutter a low moan of it,
swear, quietly, with every step.

Can you help me? I’m shattered,
shattering – an intricate vase
hitting the ground in slow-motion.
Maybe you can hit pause, press stop.
Maybe some day you’ll be the one
to find some new language, a spell
before I am too broken
for superglue, to tape up.

Please: find the words. Speak them, a titanium prayer.

BONES

A room with twelve skeletons; skulls all facing the same way. A bony choir: but what songs will they sing us? Songs from long ago – and songs of struggle, murder and conflict. Through poetry, flash fiction and discussion we’ll be inspired by craniums, tibias and mandibles, exploring what we feel in our bones. All skeletons have a tale to tell – what’s yours?Skeletons M Shed Workshop YP Info 2.8.17I’m running a young people’s workshop for young people aged 14-17 years at M Shed Bristol on 2nd August, exploring their Skeletons: Our Buried Bones exhibition…

It’ll be a rich & strange day, where I’ll be inviting the group to really get to know the bones on display and what they might think about all this, as well as thinking about our very own skeletons – we’ve all got one. Details above: please pass them on…

 

 

People, Places, Life at M Shed

In  February 2017, I’ll be running a seven-week creative writing course at M Shed Museum, Bristol harbourside.

Here’s a little film I made to tell you more about it:

And if you’d like to book, go to the WEA website here.

There’s info about the M Shed on its website here too.

See you there!

NaPoWriMo 4.1 – The Crumb Museum

s318635836612132814_p5_i1_w500

“A bright seed…”

It’s April – and that means National Poetry Writing Month…And I’ve decided to really commit again this year.

I’ll be putting up brand-new just-written poems, some of which I’ll then take down and polish to send off elsewhere, some of which will stay as forever works-in-progress. (Because that’s how it works…)

Some days I’m going to use the NaPoWriMo prompt, and others I’m going to try out new ones (from various resource books), those from Jo Bell’s 52 Project or – at the wise advice of Philip Gross in a Poetry School podcast – to delve back through my notebooks at fragments, details, early ideas, and see what might come of them with a bit more focus.

Yesterday’s prompt was to write a Lune – which is actually 5/3/5 syllables. But in a Friday rush, and probably having had a Friday beer, I thought Lunes were 3/5/3. (And this does come from an earlier fragment (crumb?) in my notebook.)

So I present a poem in Inverted Lune form – still a form, just not quite the one I’d intended:

The Crumb Museum

I shook it
upside-down, that day
it caught fire:

its archive
from the black basement
billowing,

setting off
the smoke alarm’s song,
charcoaling.

But beneath
its unplugged structure - 
The Curator.

Reclusive,
her eight able limbs
busily

catalogued
these relics of bread.
The sour-dough

of last year.
Hovis Best of Both
(reduced aisle).

A bright seed
excavated from
a bagel

like a jewel
in a bright casing
of new silk.