{"id":28,"date":"2024-07-21T09:03:19","date_gmt":"2024-07-21T09:03:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/new.jennyhope.co.uk\/?page_id=28"},"modified":"2025-10-31T12:30:25","modified_gmt":"2025-10-31T12:30:25","slug":"poetry","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/?page_id=28","title":{"rendered":"Poetry"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">New Year&#8217;s Eve &#8211; 2024<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>Gusting the old year out<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The fire draws well this night. The room dim-lit<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">by candles carefully holding quietened<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">time.\u00a0 Outside, the wind spills its guts against<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">the house, windows tight-drawn shut.&nbsp; Gather up<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">all that\u2019s left discarded, ready to banish<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">the obsolete. Place it all to one side. &nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">This wind is famished.  Soon, it will eat well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">For now, as the old year departs \u2013 a spell,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">a little something to not let it hide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It\u2019s outstayed its welcome. Let it vanish<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">to thinning air. &nbsp;Tea swirls inside a cup<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">as you libate the future year.&nbsp; Remains<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">are given to the flame. &nbsp;&nbsp;All things must end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The chimney swallows.&nbsp; Fire begins to spit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>2024<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">From <em>Wild Boar<\/em>, to be published late 2025, with V.Press<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>The Winterkeeper<\/em>  (a Solstice sestina)<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-audio\"><audio controls src=\"http:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/12\/poemmp3.mp3\"><\/audio><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>2013<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>Earth Hour:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">This hour is fat, yet still it hangs by a knife<br>blade. We\u2019re not ready to brave the cut<br>instead we admire the plumpness, run&nbsp;<br>a nail across the surface. Its scent fills<br>our skins. We hesitate. Do we feast&nbsp;<br>on the flesh, allow our tongues the juice?<br>Or shall we let it drop, explode to the floor,&nbsp;<br>and watch it splatter? Will we let it seep<br>through our wounds; congeal our blood until<br>we solidify? Or, instead do we do nothing but<br>admire its form, unsure of ourselves?<br>Do nothing, but wait while its wholeness&nbsp;<br>withers as it shrinks to its own skin,&nbsp;<br>and another hour approaches despite us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>2012&nbsp;<\/strong><br><br><br>This poem was written as part of a collaboration with the Worcestershire Poetry stanza, inspired by the buildings at Avoncroft Museum, nr. Bromsgrove, Worcestershire.<br>The poems written from this collaboration are part of a poetry trail which runs at Avoncroft until January 2013.<br><br><strong>The Merchant\u2019s House<br><\/strong><br>My Master\u2019s house holds colour.<br>Within winter\u2019s flaxen skies,<br><br>the sun hidden, he bids me<br>touch those sudden bolts of red,<br><br>subdued at first, then spilt.<br>At night the Sleep of Plants<br><br>protect their budded young.<br>There are many faces to green<br><br>though each is weak in light.<br>Ripened men take buckthorn<br><br>shade anointed flesh. Lush.<br>And the sap damp to the ears.<br><br>Washed and washed again,<br>Walwort\u2019s stolen blue fabric<br><br>seethed in water, left out to dry.<br>My firmament unstitched.<br><br>I watch for the seam of light<br>beneath wood. My Master comes<br><br>with my sky-skinned elder-black,<br>starred where the dye\u2019s uncaught.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em><strong>Four poems from Polesworth:<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">These poems were inspired by my time as a Workshop Leader as part of Poleworth\u2019s Dig the Poetry sessions.&nbsp; In particular I was looking as using the senses, other than sight to convey asense of the place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong><em>Anker<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">As you sleep<br>under night\u2019s habit<br>of holding secrets,&nbsp;<br>and the hiss of stars<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">bleeds dew tears&nbsp;<br>from the lawn, I move&nbsp;<br>before awakening light<br>as answered as a prayer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong><em>This is how it is from now:<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Morning brings its own skin.<br>fastens itself against the touch of soil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The day yawns, stretches,&nbsp;<br>fingertips touch<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">parsley, sage, rosemary, passing thyme<br>by the mouth of the day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The sun rests its head<br>on the curve of the Abbey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong><em>Breathe<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Light distils through glass<br>colours break, scatter<br>like forgotten<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">thoughts.<br>Inside my world stills,<br>cups my soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">My skin<br>gleams with a knowledge<br>still unshared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong><em>Foothold<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The silence holds each step,<br>lets it speak, while my tongue<br>knows its place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Each day here knows&nbsp;<br>its own stillness,<br>and its strength.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Ours is to trust<br>and to trust again.<br>Our paths lengthen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Each footstep unique<br>as our own conformities.<br>The floor absorbs us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">From Petrolhead:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>The Forest Seamstress<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">My mother is making my clothes.<br>I hide behind a screen and trade my shoes for leaf and bark.<br>I tread more softly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>Brrrch, Brrrch<\/em>.&nbsp;&nbsp;She feeds her material through blood and branch.<br><em>Brrrch<\/em>.&nbsp;The birds stop to listen.&nbsp;&nbsp;I hear the rustle of skin.<br>A pool of leaves breathes at her feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Mother climbs from bark to twig.&nbsp;&nbsp;She lifts hair from my face,<br>lets me see.&nbsp;&nbsp;She tells me to climb.&nbsp;&nbsp;She wants the stars.&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head.<br>My mouth is packed with velvet-warm earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">My mother laughs and rubs my skin with fresh-spun sap.&nbsp;&nbsp;I am her daughter.<br>She tugs my gut.&nbsp;&nbsp;I climb to please her. My intestines wind through bark and bough.<br>She rips satin ribbons from remnant skies and lines hidden pools; eye deep<br>and as watchful.&nbsp;&nbsp;I sense my soul take root.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Some days her belly growls, I run for shelter.&nbsp;&nbsp;She shakes the ground.<br>The sky fills with swallows\u2019 purple light.&nbsp;&nbsp;I hide to find my way back in.<br>I emerge to fallen leaves.&nbsp;&nbsp;She smells of age and earth.&nbsp;&nbsp;When she dies<br>I become her.&nbsp;&nbsp;By winter I dress in icy armour.&nbsp;&nbsp;It keeps my heart soft.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>Market Day<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Cold February banks before dawn and litters the ground with snow-eyed splinters.&nbsp;               The stalls are in place.&nbsp; The egg lady has stopped selling &#8211; she tells me she\u2019s too old for this, hands tremor as she passes me her final box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">My skin grumbles, I take the change.&nbsp; The air is bitter and tastes of blood.                                                                 I was here last month.&nbsp; I come here every month.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">They know me now, by face but not by name.&nbsp; They sell me their honey, cheese                            and local-brewed beer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Would they run, I wonder, if I ever paused and spoke out loud?                                                                                              <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I scan the sky.&nbsp; The weather turns inside.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>Wind<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">At night it demands to be let in \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">a starving dog, its voice harsh<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">against your window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">You Ignore the whining and the wind turns<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">tail and storms through the wood<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">marking scent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Later it returns contrite from broken trees<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">and butts against the glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">You sneak the window open, and you\u2019re done for,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">until morning, when day relents and you wake,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>Fruit<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">You fed me.  Firm lychees peeled<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">from goose-bumped flesh of sunset pink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Figs divide and flower &#8211; four quarters, one whole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Strawberry hearts bleed a head of seeds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">You split a peach.  The soft kernel exposed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">On the table, the flushed cheeks of apples.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">A pear hangs like a tear from the bowl &#8211;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">its stem stronger than expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">(Previously published in Poetry on a Plate, the Poetry Society, 2004 and on Daisy Goodwin&#8217;s website in 2003.)<\/p>\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>New Year&#8217;s Eve &#8211; 2024 Gusting the old year out The fire draws well this night. The room dim-lit by candles carefully holding quietened time.\u00a0&#8230;<\/p>\n<div class=\"more-link-wrapper\"><a class=\"more-link\" href=\"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/?page_id=28\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Poetry<\/span><\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":80,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-28","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/28","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=28"}],"version-history":[{"count":19,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/28\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":252,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/28\/revisions\/252"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyhope.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=28"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}