Wayfarer’s Cafe

Featured Poem

This month I have featured Breakfast at the Wayfarer’s Café – I really must make up my mind where I put the apostrophe; is the Wayfarer single or plural?

I have chosen this one as a complete contrast to last month’s.  Last month’s New Year’s Eve has the poet contemplating the difficulties that are bound to come in the year.  The poet lives in the real world (one that he shares with the reader); the poem reflects the unsteady stasis of his world in a slightly rigid rhythm and form.  In Wayfarer’s however, the poet takes himself out of the real world and fantasises an idyllic space; one in which an unspecified host cares for him and releases him from all stress.  Perhaps, we might guess, leaving him to write unfettered.  The form of the poem reflects this, it has an easy-going flow to it.

Wayfarer’s also gives me a chance to mention Birmingham’s Cannon Poets.  I have a big question about this poem; namely does it have any value at all, being so ‘other worldly’?  So I took the poem along to their January meeting and discussed that question with colleagues in a break-out group.

Cannon Poets is based in Birmingham and meets once a month.  Every other month is face to face, in Mosely, and the other months they meet via Zoom.  Meetings are on the first Sunday of each month.  Cannon Poets is open to all who enjoy reading and writing poetry, and who would welcome a monthly deadline and the chance to critique others’ writing and have theirs discussed.  Cannon Poets is a safe space in a supportive and friendly atmosphere.

Writing

Writing time has been a bit squeezed this month as other arts projects have forced themselves to the fore.  However, I have a few poems actively on the go.  One, Country Walks was written some time ago and came to my attention as I want to put it into a ‘programme’; at this distance it became clear it needs a bit of tightening up.  Another, Brisk Walk came about during an hour or so of quiet musings; a Friday evening when a meal out with friends had fallen through.  (Proof that any time can be used fruitfully.)  A third, Lunchbox was the result of a eureka moment.  I heard, in passing, a particular sentence from a news trailer; a poem idea and the form for it unfolded in my mind in a flash.  I worked it through overnight, and I am now sharpening it up; it really packs a punch.

Best wishes - hope you January wasn’t too dry.