It's been a week when our minds have been filled with thoughts of others. Fran Hill kicked things off with a poem to mark the 80th birthday of Sylvia Plath. My mother read Plath is not only darkly toned, it also successfully highlights the way we can become fascinated with tragic figures, sometimes to point of obsession.
Michael Ray pointed us towards a different kind of preoccupation. In Bewabs and Mozzas, we learnt about the role of the Bewab, a common sight sitting at the front of almost every building in Cairo, the enforcer of social mores.
Then came the 'Super-storm Sandy', making landfall along the eastern seaboard of America. And, after the weather had wreaked havoc, Mark Kerstetter bent his mind to Naming the Hurricane. Three days later, Sinead Cotter had written about the Funfair Washed Out To Sea In Hurricane Sandy, a reflective piece on the "fading memories of those who rode the rollercoaster’s dips and curves on summer nights," and "where all is silenced now in the icy suck and surge."
Back on this side of the Atlantic, Philip Challinor took a satirical sideswipe at the prospect of those hospitals that are struggling to balance the books and, consequently facing privatisation, with Safe In His Hands.
NHS is not the only familiar sequence of three letters, currently under threat. In Hamsters do the conga, Noel Loftus reminded us that the BBC is also suffering at the moment, as the organisation finds itself dealing with increasing numbers of allegations made against various individuals associated with the late Jimmy Savile.
Well, that about sums it up for now. But I'll just give you another nudge to note our new email address, in parting. If you're submitting (and we sincerely hope you are) send your poems to us at Poetry24@hotmail.com
Have a good week ahead.
Martin (and Clare)