Blog brain shifts back into flexible thought; for finite sleeps Red Room, arm in arm with our generous friends, have been preparing for a fun-raising play, held last Thursday. Futures forked and talked about, around four round tables where there were no heads, no sides, but poems for every person and a profound excitement about : what rhymes with locate, luxate, lyrate, magnate, makeweight, mandate?
Ropes and ropes of hours spent sourcing poems for guests, ribbons for scrolls and words to sum up why poetry matters and why one should share money with language as opposed to electricity meters or investment properties. Who knows what all those gentle faces felt as I, dressed in a lectern and nerves, offered my blood about the importance, relevance and necessity of poetry in society and self. Who knows (sigh)?
Merlin wave your wand!
Thursday curves into Sunday. Rain, rain on the roses and toes of rain. All that matters is Love and Friendship and that can’t be purchased. At the beginning of the day all that matters is Love and Friendship and that can’t be purchased. In the middle of the day all that matters is Poetry, Red Room and working out how to survive doing what one loves and what no one else would do.
