Poetry Life & Times has published a poem of mine, ‘My life as a coble’. You can read it here. A coble, by the way, is a clinker-built boat common to the east coast of the UK, particularly Yorkshire; its construction is thought to come down directly from the techniques used to build Viking longships.
Meanwhile, P’kaboo Publishers have taken on my second novel, The Everywhen Angels. More news later, including some possible promotional events.
The podcast of my poem ‘O great maritime bears’ (actually written in imitation of Lisa Jarnot’s ‘Ye white antarctic birds’ and originally featured in qarrtsiluni e-zine) has made it through to the shortlist of the ‘Digital Slam’ competition at StAnza. StAnza is Scotland’s premier poetry festival, and is held in the ancient burgh of St Andrews. The winner is decided by votes cast by visitors to the StAnza blog. For me, it’s gratifying to get as far as the shortlist; of course I have to say that there’s some fine entries by other shortlisted poets, some of whom have submitted YouTube clips and so on, but if you would like cast a vote for me, that would be greatly appreciated.
Glenshee – Winter, © Kirstie Behrens
Are you planning to go to Pittenweem Arts festival (3rd to 11th August)? If so, be sure to visit Venue 33, 7 Calman’s Wynd, where you will find the art of Reinhard Behrens, Margaret L Smyth, Kirstie Behrens, and David Behrens. This family group of artists grows in strength year by year, as the younger members hone their skills.
© Reinhard Behrens
Reinhard Behrens is the creator of Naboland, where thrown-away objects find a new life, and a toy submarine voyages in and out of an almost-but-not-quite parallel world. One of Reinhard’s finds, the remains of a teddy bear, inspired me to write a prose poem – had the bear been dropped by a certain creation of Mary Shelley as he sped across the Arctic ice in search of his monstrous creation? I dared think so…
© Marie Marshall
© Reinhard Behrens
In 2006 I was experimenting with the sonnet and wrote many that deviated from iambic pentameter (yes, I know that I’m by no means the first poet to do that, and believe me when I say I won’t be the last!). One of these was inspired by J W Waterhouse’s sketch for ‘Lady Clare’, and featured lines of nine syllables in length, with an unstressed syllable at the end of each. Having had so many poems published that I have totally lost track, it was a great pleasure to receive the 10th Anniversary Issue of Rubies in the Darkness, the magazine of traditional, romantic, lyrical, and spiritually-inspired poetry, and find that my ‘Study for the Lady Clare’ is featured in it. The magazine may be obtained from Precious Pearl Press, 115 Green Lane, St Albans, Hertfordshire, AL3 6HG. Subscriptions cost £10 per annum.
© 2008 Marie Marshall.
Twitter @MairibheagM
© 2008 Marie Marshall.
Twitter @MairibheagM
Decatur St., New Orleans, by Russell Lee.
Seulement dans le Vieux Carré
Seulement dans le Vieux Carré
tombe mon coeur au trottoir,
là-bas où les maqueraux crient
“Hé, chère!”.
Il me faut regarder de nouveau,
peut-être avec les yeux
d’un oiseau de printemps,
douces, à la teinte parme;
ou comme les Acadiennes
pendant la semaine sainte…
En cheminant à la Rue Bourbon
– en plein soleil
ou à la tombée bruyante de la nuit –
je le ramasserai, mon coeur,
qui nage sur
un flot de jazz…
et ça suffit pour vivre.
Only in the Quarter
does my heart fall to the sidewalk –
down there, where the pimps call out
“Hey, honey!”
I need to take another look,
maybe with the eyes of a spring bird,
soft, violet-hued;
Or like the Cajun girls
at Easter time…
Making my way along Bourbon Street
– in full sunlight,
or around clamorous nightfall –
I’ll pick it up, my heart
that’s floating on
a tide of jazz…
and that’ll do to live on.
Detail from ‘Golconde’ by René Magritte.
Les hommes volants
En haut les manteaux noirs et les chapeaux boules –
Ça va, ça marche, ça roule!
Regarde ces types aux visages gris, devant ma fenêtre;
Ils montent, peut-être,
Un escalier de vent, de soleil, ou des rèves.
“Evidemment ils s’élèvent
Chaque jour, tou près de nos bâtiments?”
Non, pas si souvent!
Vive la pomme, les amants aux têtes couvertes,
Et aux bouches ouvertes;
Vive quand-même le chapeau melon. Mais maintenant –
Zut! – les homes volants.
The flying men
Up go the black coats, the bowlers too –
Jolly good, okay, tickety-boo!
Look at these grey-faced blokes at my window;
They’re climbing – maybe so –
A stairway of breezes, sunshine, or dreams.
“They rise, so it seems,
Daily, right by our flats?”
No, not as often as that.
Long live the apple, the lovers, heads under a shroud,
And open-mouthed.
Moreover, long live the bowler hat. But now
See the flying men – holy cow!
Detail from a photo by Robert Doisneau
Raconter des salades
(à Robert Doisneau)
Je vois la juive jeune
et son nègre adorant
danser comme
deux fruits-de-nuit
Tous les deux bourgeonnent
en plein été
autour de Saint Germain
– faut que je sourie!
Jive talking
(for Robert Doisneau)
I see the Jewish girl
and her adoring black guy
dance like
two nighttime fruits
Both are coming into bud
in high summer
around St Germain
– gotta smile!
I mentioned this to my agent and – lo and behold – he came up with an image made up of the titles of my two poetry collections. Obvious, really.
© Marie Marshall/Bookseeker Agency
Marie Marshall 