The writing is coming along. I have been delving back into two highly recommended books, Peter Sansom's Writing Poems and Writing Poetry by Matthew Sweeney and John Hartley Williams. The second is full of exercises (which I am doing!) and the first is full of good advice (which I'm trying to take). I'll post tidbits from both in the coming weeks. I am reading out for feedback at the Brussels Writers Group tonight, the first time in front of this group for a very long time, will let you know how that goes. At the moment I'm more concerned about getting myself to the start of the meeting on time.... On Time being my nemesis.
OK. Now for another Belgian Poet. De Coninck wrote in Dutch and the original is presented alongside an English translation, at the link below.
by Herman de Coninck
“Go to sleep now,” I say
to a daughter who is already asleep
and wakes from my words.
The thunder crashes. Perhaps
I want her scared, so I can be dad.
But there’s nothing I can do except
do nothing, together with her.
It’s like words. Things happen.
Without words they would still happen.
But then without words.
Harry de Coninck