Author: Lucy Crispin

something winter-y

This week’s poem is another recent discovery and I’m not sure quite what appeals to me so much about it. But something does. See what you make of Tom Hennen’s charming ‘Sheep in the Winter Night (which Garrison will read for you at 2:38, if you so wish).

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come, poor Jackself

My therapy practice would be a lot less busy if people really knew how right it is to be self-compassionate. So many of us can pay lip service to the notion of “put on your own oxygen mask first” while not truly believing it’s “allowed” or, actually, the long-term more altruistic thing to do (in that it helps you keep in a fit state to support others). So I love this poem—a recent discovery—which expresses that sense of unease about kindness to self. Here’s James Crews’ ‘Self-Compassion‘.

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coming to America, going not so well…

And now, as the Pythons used to say, for something completely different. Yes, it’s another another arrival in America, courtesy of Tracy K Smith, a former Poet Laureate; but it’s very different from last week’s. Read ‘The United States Welcomes you‘ and shiver.

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the dark side

Next week we’ll have a quietly uplifting poem to remind us of those unexpected moments of connection and shared humanity which can transform our day. Today, however, I offer this disturbing-but-important-to-read poem which offers us a glimpse into a darker side. Here is ‘Litany of Ordinary Violences‘ by torrin a greathouse.

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and yet more weather

I realise it’s a bit late to offer you a poem called ‘Early October Snow‘, but it turned up in my inbox right at the end of last month and I can’t bear to wait another year before sharing it! I think Robert Haight’s poem is quietly beautiful in its imagery, and powerful in an understated way; so I hope that, thinking so too, you’ll forgive my tardiness.

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more rain, and leaves

Last week the rivers were rising in Cumbria and the water flowed brown and white and angry through the centre of towns. The big rain down did rain and brought trouble to many. This rain poem, however, has a mood of hope and possibility: here’s the charming ‘The rain was ending‘ by Lawrence Binyon.

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strange but true

I picked up an email from my non-fiction site the other day. Having decided it wasn’t spam—they didn’t want to sell me Ray Bans or improve my performance in search engines or the bedroom—I replied to it and found myself in conversation with Kate Winslet’s assistant (as you do). Kate, as I must now call her, wanted to read one of my poems at a charity event the following night. Well…. okaaaay then.

How heartening to know that such an International Cheese was involving herself with a local good cause. I feel proud to have been read for such a purpose, and in such company. Unfortunately I don’t have a recording but I do have the delight of my work being chosen. ‘Poetry makes nothing happen’, eh? You just never know.

hallowe’en

Well, if Strictly can have a Hallowe’en special, why can’t this column? I do like Annie Finch’s take on the Celtic Feast of the Dead, ‘Samhain‘. I don’t know that I understand it all intellectually but, as ever with me, that matters less than the feeling with which it leaves me. There’s a shiver, not of fear but something more like awe, of apprehending the vastness of time and our place in a continuum. See how the poem leaves you.

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walking with bears (or, seeing while walking)

To be more precise: one bear. On Wednesday I was, briefly, part of a Climate Pilgrimage in which a polar bear and his companion are walking from Shropshire to the Cop 26 in Glasgow. Seeing all ten feet of Clarion the Bear being moved with great care and tenderness along Kendal’s busy main street was profoundly, unexpectedly moving: all that attention being lavished on one, vulnerable creature—he looked so ectopic in the blare and bustle of town—while the actual vulnerable creatures are unprotected. It was simultaneously beautiful and appalling.

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