Mud

Last week, I spoke with a few artists, one of whom mentioned a piece of worked based in a piggery. I was impressed. So impressed in fact, that it inspired me to want to write a poem from the seed that was the word ‘piggery’. All was going well. I had several stanzas, a fairly clear narrative, and it was safely put to bed, as ‘twere.

Now, I realise, it was not. It was not saved, it is gone. So, I am trying to dredge my memory - I aim to recreate it. Folks, this is the rough end of the Being an Amateur Poet wedge – yes, The BAP Wedge, as we for-one-month-only amateur poets would have it.

As I have nothing other than this insight into ‘process’ to share here, do feel free to suggest a theme for a series of posts – the iller-advised the better. It will do you no harm, and it just might help drive me towards my short-term piggery ends.

Come, bathe with me in the mud of et cetera et cetera.