I am currently heavily into my exam marking so posts here will be intermittent.
Whilst I do always find student responses quite inspirational, as individuals or as a collective impact, that is not the reason for a mention in this post’s title: I am referring to how the poem that follows was prompted, which was in response to a line picked up from an anecdote I was listening to, and the resulting sonnet is where I arrived and I enjoy that existential writing journey:
And that’s how Wilma came to Hereford, he
said, avoiding the loudmouth in the corner
shouting her name as well as Fred’s, telling his story
about the geography of love and the chance of how
a couple meet at its start as a real romance he knew
drunks wouldn’t understand, yet feeling that deep
within the history of this narrative there was a
meaning others could take to their own recall of a
journey made or a loving lived even if that has
already reached its end – but you can’t always touch
hearts and minds when a toilet at the side of the bar
reeks of a fragrance trying but failing to disguise
and an old guy in a booth behind is licking froth
from the rim of his empty glass as he is leaving.