Richard's Poem A Day

Richard Tingley in a small village just outside Horsham in West Sussex, UK is writing a Poem A Day...

Dear Chefs.
When constructing a pie,
It’s only a pie if surrounded by pastry,
anything other than that
don’t call it a pie
when it’s not one.
It’s stew
with a pastry hat.

Why did you decide to do this project? After a failed attempt at a daily drawing/painting project last year I wanted to try again, but with something different.

Recently I've found more and more writing appearing in my work, and I've always written bits of poetry here and there over the years and it all just seemed to fall into place.
It was probably around early December where I started seriously considering writing a poem a day, inspired by various things around the web and when the new year kicked in I just started. I've also had ambitions to write a novel and I wanted something to get me writing everyday, and this is a really good idea to get me doing that.

As I attempted to cross the bridge today
the Troll beneath called out.
“You’re a talentless hack and you have no clue,
so just for today, no ideas for you!”
And those words stuck in my head like a crumb in a throat
and I’ve coughed and I’ve coughed and this is all I wrote.
So, to write a better poem than this is
avoid Trolls by keeping off bridges.

How has doing a yearlong/daily project affected your life? I'm only a month and a bit into the project so the affect is having hasn't really kicked in yet.

I have noticed it's causing me to think about things a lot more, making me focus my thoughts and try and wrestle them into some sort of cohesive and presentable shape. I still don't know what sort of poet I am (if you ever actually know) so I'm just throwing everything at it. It's a boon when something happens to you during the day as it gives you something to grab onto, but I do enjoy just sitting down and writing till something appears. It also means I'm actually committing to something and so far have managed to sit down and write something everyday. I wrote my first drunk poem the other night and even though it's pretty poor, I'm  rather proud I did it. I wish now I'd left in all the spelling mistakes and mis-typed wobbly bits.

I'm also hoping it will give me an opportunity to explore all the weird ideas and nonsense I have knocking about in my head, and so far, I can only see that as a benefit.

It's not healthy to keep that stuff contained.

How often do I see my Fathers face
catch his turn of phrase or tone of voice
notice small gestures and movements
recognise moods and annoyances.
I was always told that I’m just like my Mum
maybe when I was young, but now
I can understand the grumbles and worries
and the stubborn streak to stick to your guns
for no other reason than misplaced pride.
Anyway, it’s his turn to call…

Read all of Richard's poems HERE

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