Creativity is like a volcano

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© Clare Abbott (November 2015)

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A cute love story

On a beautiful sunny day

When the grass was still wet with dew,

A walk in the lush green park

Was the first time that I met you.

 

Your radiant smile and stunning eyes

Made my heart gently melt away.

Your harmonious voice and calm complexion

Gave me courage to ask “Stay with me today.”

 

I never wanted this perfect day to end

As we gaily strolled in the sunshine.

Just before we departed our own ways

You nervously asked me to dine.

 

I thought it was really adorable

How you blushed when asking the question.

My heart was filled with joy

And I gladly accepted without exception.

 

On a tranquil pretty evening

We dined by the desirous setting sun.

We had such engaging conversations

And I definitely had plenty of fun.

 

After our first anxious meeting

We met each other frequently.

In the park and during nights out

Our relationship developed accordingly.

 

During our wonderful times together

I realised there was something new.

Each time I saw you my heart blushed,

As a developing love for you grew.

 

My heart started to pound faster

Each time I went to see you.

I desired to be more than friends;

I wanted to say those special words to you.

 

On a beautiful night out

We stood under the luminous moon.

When I was about to confess

The bells chimed at noon.

During the toll of the bells

Your voice harmonised perfectly.

My face must have been blushing

Because you said your words amazingly.

 

This was the happiest moment of my life

As you held the same feelings as me.

I was under your seductive charm

And my blemishing heart felt free.

 

On the night of our confessions

You tenderly kissed me with your lips.

Now my heart was dancing with happiness

As you lovingly held my hips.

 

Under the beauty of the stars

I felt warm and secure.

As we continued to kiss

I knew that you were the one for sure.

 

After that amazing night

I felt like the happiest person in the world.

I had discovered the beauty of love

And then even more unfurled.

 

I was at your house one evening

After having enjoyed a night out.

You placed one knee on the floor

And you took a gorgeous ring out.

 

It sparkled in your radiant eyes

And you proposed beautifully.

I accepted with tears of joy

And we kissed each other passionately.

 

I awoke the next morning

Entwined in your wondrous arms.

Your love that night was glorious

And you awoke to gently kiss my palms.

 

Now I wait for our marriage date:

A special day to become joined with you.

I am the happiest person in the world

And … I love you.

 

Clare Abbott

Note: this poem was written when I must have been between 15-17 years of age,  before I knew what love really was. This poem was my idealisation of what I saw in what we call ‘chick-flick’ films about romance and finding the ‘one’. This is how I thought I would find love, but in reality, it happens differently to how you expect it to. You find love, or it finds you unexpectedly.  I have also only made a couple of tiny tweaks where I thought appropriate.

Letter to Wrenne

While we can stand side by side with man

with much more ease than your time,

the rotted veils of man’s misgovernment

still dominate this world today.

 

You only have to take a quick glance at politics.

Man still greatly holds the power

to determine hu(man)ity,

to ensure that they are sitting pretty

for the rest of their lives

while we are supposedly expected

to willingly accept because

they know everything…

 

There has only been one

female prime minister

in the glorious and pleasant land,

where women who want,

ask, demand for fairness

are deemed as bossy and outspoken,

since we gained full emancipation

a mere eight-seven years ago.

 

Men are but dreamers: only we are real.

 

While many are fortunate to live in countries

where we are regarded as citizens

(almost as equals),

extremists terrorise daily lives;

men with guns, bombs, planes

raping women’s dreams with

hard cold heartless steel.

 

You might wonder why war and violence

is still happening over sixty years on.

But then again,

men never learn.

History is cyclical;

it always repeats itself.

 

Men are but dreamers: only we are real.

 

Do not bear your heart too sombrely

dear Wrenne, for your short life

was not in vain.

Your legacy still lives on in my heart.

 

Women’s empowerment is

more prominent than ever.

You would have adored the sixties.

We women demonstrated our power,

breaking the boundaries and traditions and lies

set up by a weak illusion from men,

scared little men whose power

is merely a facade.

Feminism is no facade.

 

Men are but dreamers: only we are real.

 

Women no longer need to feel

confined, restricted, forced

to stay at home,

be the wife,

the emotional wreck,

the weaker, gentle sex.

 

A major breakthrough for us is science.

Did you know:

men are initially conceived as women?

Our hormones, our bodily structure,

the power of our sex

means that men have always had

our mark, stamped twice for good measure,

on their bodies.

 

Men are but dreamers: only we are real.

 

We still have a long long way to go.

Maybe when I finally get to meet you

in the next life, there will finally be

complete equality,

equality between us both,

men no longer proving that

they are the supreme of the sexes

when in fact, we women are

supreme in our own way.

 

We have the ultimate power:

the power to give birth,

the power to give birth to new life.

Without this power, we would all

cease to exist.

 

We would all be dreamers, and nothing would be real.

 

© Clare Abbott (2015)

 

This poem is dedicated and was written in response to Wrenne Jarman’s poem Letter to Claudia (1948). The line ‘Men are but dreamers: only we are real’ is from Jarman’s poem. Jarman’s poem was one of my favourites which I looked into for my Masters dissertation on British female poetry of the Second World War.

Letter to Claudia

I am currently in the process of writing a poem dedicated to Wrenne Jarman. The idea popped into my head while I was walking to work last week. Jarman is one of the poets I researched and wrote about in my dissertation on British female poetry of the Second World War. One of her poems fascinated me and I want to pay homage to her by writing a response to her poem ‘Letter to Claudia’.

Before I post my poem, which is currently called ‘Letter to Wrenne’, the poem in this post is Jarman’s poem ‘Letter to Claudia’. I have decided to share it because it is a powerful feminist poem, and it will also give any of you interested a bit of a background before you read my poetic response. Hope you enjoy ‘Letter to Claudia’ as much as I did.

Letter to Claudia

Letter to Claudia (2)

Letter to Claudia (3)

© Wrenne Jarman [‘Letter to Claudia’, The Breathless Kingdom, (London: The Fortune Press, Ltd., 1948), pp.25-7].

 

Ready for another night

Poem 1

Poem 2

Poem 3

Poem 4

Poem 5

 

© Clare Abbott (2014)

 

P.S. Please ignore the cursor signs in the poem. I had to screenshot the poem several times from Word and then edit with Paint. There is probably an easier way to post a poem like above onto WordPress, but each time I tried pasting in the poem from Word, all of the lines move to the left hand side of the page, which eliminates the overall effect of the poem.

Dissertation done!

After spending four months of research, planning, meeting my supervisor, writing, editing, and proofreading, I handed in my dissertation today!  It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders once I gave it in at the English office. I also felt a sense of relief as part of me still can’t believe that I managed to write 15,000 words over the period of the summer months, when for the past eight years I have gone away travelling with my dad, but instead I went away for two short breaks and spent the summer working part-time as well as writing my dissertation. I’ll admit, I am proud of myself!

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I got to the university library for 8:15 this morning, ready to proofread my dissertation for the final time before submitting it to the bookshop for 10am to get it bound. Even though I gave myself a week to re read my work, I still made a few tiny tweaks today, which meant that I had to change the page numbers for a few references in my chapters, which I didn’t realise until I had printed off one copy! I only had to reprint a couple of pages, and then I printed off two more copies of my dissertation, since I had to submit three copies to the English office (a total of 153 pages!!!).

I collected the three copies of my dissertation at 1pm, and I was amazed at how professional the final piece looked. I thought that I had to ask for plastic binding, but it turns out the English department wanted MA dissertations ‘perfect bound’. This meant that my dissertation looks like a book, which is pretty cool (see how nice it looks in the photo of me holding it!). It made me feel proud to submit it, a bit like submitting a PhD I guess.

Overall I have enjoyed the experience of a dissertation at Masters level. As I have mentioned before, I am still undecided on whether to do a PhD. I will see what result I receive for my dissertation and my Masters overall, and I will keep in mind my current idea, which is to promote the works of Wrenne Jarman.

I definitely feel that I am more specialised in English Literature at a greater level from studying an MA, and I found out during my MA that my specialism is contemporary literature. If I had known that before I studied an MA, I would’ve chosen the MA in Modern Literature which the University of Leicester offers, but I do not regret picking the MA in English Studies. The course offers students the chance to study literature from the Medieval era through to contemporary, and to pick an area of their choice when writing coursework. I enjoy a variety of literature from different time periods, so I thoroughly enjoyed the course.

 

Happy reading and blogging!

Many thanks,

Clare Bear