Well, I was hoping for rain, and I got it. The sort I hate; a fine mist-like thing that sneaks under umbrellas and inside hoods. Ha! Serves me right. I love the cooler temperatures, though.
Today I’m working on a poem I abandoned a few years ago, partly because it seemed to want to go into some kind of terza rima form, and I couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t much like the effort of grappling with those traditional forms back then, and didn’t like the way it forced me to question my word choices. But I’m back with the thing today; a poem about a door ( I know. WTF?).
I’m using W.N. Herbert’s “Rhymewell” idea* to help draft the poem: here’s a list of words it’s thrown up so far:
landed, bandit, sandwich, understand it, hatchet, exacted, language, expanded, embankment, bladder, shadow…..
What the hell? This is going to be fun…
* W. N. Herbert, 2010, Writing Poetry, Routledge/Open University, pp. 110-112