This effulgence of flowers is at the bottom of my road in Peckham Rye. They are growing in an area which was once, years ago, a paddling pool for toddlers. Today it may be 30 degrees outside and the pool would be a joy for small people. But the sight of a host of wildflowers being courted by bees and butterflies is, surely, a joy for everyone. Big and small.
Purple wigs to celebrate my poem – I slept with Raymond Chandler – being published today on the poetry and prose webzine: www.inksweatandtears.co.uk
What happens when Mary crosses Peckham Rye? My short story is published in http://stepawaymagazine.com/ It’s an international literary e-zine devoted to flânerie for the 21st Century, and the spring 2014 issue is launched today. Let your fingers do the walking and click on.
I was sitting at the cafe on Peckham Rye enjoying a cup of coffee when, out of the blue, this poem arrived: a response to the joys of spring. (Why the text appears in double-spacing is something the computer has decreed. But one must rise above these bloody irritations.)
when daffodils jostle with
bluebells, and blossom
fringes boughs and bushes,
and squirrels chase their tails
while birds warble, and dogs
ignore their whistling masters,
and leaves unfurl like
badly-kept secrets, then
spring my love has sprung
The White Poems is a hand-made limited edition book of poems written by Helen Adie, Pia Goddard and me. We’ve been three corners of a writers’ circle for several years and this is our third book. Last night we launched it at a local gallery, Jeannie Avent in East Dulwich. Live music topped and tailed the poetry reading, glasses fizzed and people even bought the book.
Come the summer, part of London’s Southbank is transformed into a seaside-like venue with fun and frolics, a sandy area and quadrangle of fountains. On hot days kids arrive in bathers with buckets and spades. In the midst of it a lady sits alone.