noir

I love “creative” accidents.

A day dreamer par excellence, I sometimes lock myself inside a page and lose utter track of time. Such accident certainly happened yesterday late afternoon as I settled on a brown sofa facing Hay’s Dock. Rain was tap dancing on flagstones & roof tops, sliding in a nonchalant manner against Mareel’s long glass panes.
By the time James walked by, little did I know I was just about to return to the Lerwick Writers. And what better timing, as I was polishing a piece inspired & initially scribbled in haste at the end of the school day. James led me to the meeting room where I reconvened with both new & familiar faces, including friend & fellow poet Christian S Tait. Boannie night of fine prose, poetry & song, as Donald Anderson freed the guitar from its sarcophagus.

.
The pieces I shared with the group rubberbanded down to South Africa (Madiba Forever) and pre-70 Glasgow, with this latest poem entitled Lollipop Lass.
It is a much darker, abrasive piece in a free-style form, which emanating from a social history lesson & a 1961 picture of the Old Gorbals, Glasgow’s notorious slums (now gone).

Amazing as the mind works, but the poem currently reads as follows,

Lollipop Lass

Whatever colour of gutter,
squalid Gorbals or
sordid stairs,
she comes flying
down in a
flash,
she,
darting
tarnished
kingfisher to
satisfy hunger from
sap, white nectar, opium for
seamen…
Whatever hour of
day, night,
she spends
minutes at her
dresser, put on eyelashes,
eyeliner, a bit of rouge
after sunset
cheap,
cheerful,
splashed
eau-de-toilette to
let her forget of pavements,
green graffiti sprayed,
dogs’ urine,
crashed
triple X cans in
drunk hands,
dark south banks from
mystical Clyde.
She,
tongue
teaser, tosses
pleasure like a pancake.

© Nat Hall 2014
-/–

The theme is certainly unusual, and such choice somewhat surprised the assembly. However, it got me out of my comfort zone and it also allowed the exploration of much darker avenues. Furthermore, the piece was well received.

All in all, a very pleasant night 🙂

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Filed under 2014, 60N, lerwick, poet, poetry, poets, shetland, verse, verse poetry, world, writing

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