The Edited Editions: Coffee Sonnet 2

The second installment of my (hopefully) year long venture continues. I particularly struggled with the 3rd stanza and also what the volta would try and show. I think it is nicely summed up in the final couplet but I would right?
I still have issues with the final line of the second stanza though I like the imagery I'm trying to invoke, it may get reworked if a better line comes to pass. I also quite like the original end line in the second stanza but the perspective change from unreliable first to omniscient third required me to delete it. I also omitted the nominalisation of the brands for two reasons; first, so that all corporations can be seen in this and secondly, so as not to inadvertently mention them and therefore promote them subliminally.

Enjoy!

2.

Whore yourself to all and everyone else.

The cravings of a middle class custom, 

With faux leather seats and mass produced art

Across the city - but lacking in heart.

Chain corporations are one and the same,

Purveyors; of our materialism

Our addiction to their corporate crest.

We're never more than ten feet from this pest.

But even those with a discerning eye,

Who can taste the origins of Jamaica

Need the hit of the bitter morning start,

Even if from independence they depart.

Though soon again they realise their regret,

And the change in their pockets means much less. 

Original.

Whore yourself to all and everyone else.

Your prices seek a middle class custom,

Your abode with leather and song compels,

All over the city they'll err and um.

Do I enter at the door of low lights?

Watch out of your window, let life go past?

Let your thick warmth slip down my throat, tonight's

Not going to let me sleep, not so fast. 

A chain corporation you are to me,

Nothing special, you are far from the best.

People call you Robert's, but don't you see?

You're all the same a necessary pest.

Coffee, from Finland's own Starbucks like vein.

We will always need you, part of the grain. 

6000 Views and a New Project

In just a year this blog has had over two and half thousand views (I think actually maybe even past 3000 and close to 4); for a blog which consists of my meanderings of Europe and poetry which of late has slowed I am incredibly honoured to get at least a few views every day.

That means I have now passed 6000 views, as of this week, and I should probably give the readers who come back and expect something...that something. It has been a long time coming but as you will know that from starting in Helsinki I became very interested in writing poetry and I wrote an awful lot; if you follow me on twitter you will have seen me talking about Coffee Sonnets - these weren't published but I wrote a collection of 40 - inspired from my thoughts that day and from the confines of the cafe I sat in.

In the dream world of my head I wanted to publish these but as of yet they are unedited and actually pretty s***. At least, the very first one I wrote is and it has almost completely changed on my second review of it.

So the something that I am going to give is a new project - alongside my final semester at Uni, my placement with a collective of poets and my attempts at finding a job. If you care to bear with me I am going to re-edit one of these sonnets each week and publish it on here, at the same time I will post the original so you can see the changes I made and hopefully see how far the poem will have progressed.

The very first sonnet I wrote was not a Coffee Sonnet, that was something I came up with later and so that can begin my new project. They are untitled and instead, like a boring poet and copier I will number them. I hope you enjoy them and thanks for the views!

1.

To me sterile unceasing hate, I go

Although we will all say the same of you

Still we go; back and forth and to and fro.

Always following the orderly queue.

Taking us to predetermined places

The traffic of the masses rumbling on,

As monotony's shown in our blank faces,

One of thousands; on this seat sat upon.

An unchanging everyday of Underground

Living - what else can we come to expect?

Your screams and moans an ever present sound,

That now we know you have little effect.

I will see you again, though not the same

Me, or you, but for what we're called by name.

Original.

O, my sterile unceasing love I go, 

Although many will say the same of you.

Through you I go, through and through to and fro.

I hear your groaning cease and then you flew.

You take me so, to where I wish to be

But you traffik yourself to the masses

It hurts no more, from your tunnels to flee,

You taste so bitter, dark like molasses.

Yet you are but the underground metro

What can I expect of you otherwise?

Screams and moans denote that you're far from slow,

This was just to show what you can disguise.

So often it is the reverse for these,

Sex hidden by mundanity to please.

Originals IV

In the past 3 Originals we have given a brief explanation of the poems featured, however this time I want to provide a collection of festive or seasonal poetry that should just be enjoyed and perused at your leisure.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Wilfred Owen, Winter Song

The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.

From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

Peter Rylands, Untitled

The cold outside // The warmth within

Brushing my cheeks // Drowsing my eyes

My scarf’s knot tied // I am comfortable,

Though wind may blow // Sheltered and dry

And other elements try // I sit and carelessly stare

As people pass // Those who walk unknowingly by

In them I confide // What do you think?

My want of warmth inside // Whilst it is cold outside.

Thea Gilmore, Book Of Chrismas Lyrics (As chosen by Dr. Peter Kirwan of the English Dept)

A week to Christmas
Cards of snow and holly
Gimcracks in the shops
Wishes and memories wrapped in tissue paper
Trinkets, gadgets and lollipops
As is through coloured glasses we remember the childhood thrill
Waking in the morning to the rustling of paper
The eiderdown heaped in a hill
Of dogs and bears and bricks and apples
The feeling that Christmas Day was a coral island in time
Where we land and eat our lotus
But where we can never stay

There was a star in the east
The Magi in their turbans brought their luxury toys
In homage to the child born to capsize their values
Wreck their equipoise
A smell of hay, like peace in the dark stable
Not peace, however, but a sword
To cut the Gordian Knot of logical self-interest
The fool-proof golden cord
For Christ walked in where philosophers tread
But armed with more than folly
Making the smooth place rough
And knocking the heads of church and state together

In honour of Him we have taken over the pagan Saturnalia for our annual treat
Letting the belly have its say
Ignoring the spirit while we eat
And conscience still goes crying through the desert with sackcloth round his loins 
A week to Christmas
Hark the Herald Angels beg for copper coins

Peter Rylands, The time to wake

The time to wake,

After rooftop feet,

Childish excitement,

And thanks for what we are about to eat.

Piled up presents,

With the tree lit,

And adorned,

The fire roaring,

And tired eyes caught.

Wallace Stevens, The Snowman (As chosen by Jem Bloomfield of the UoN English Dept)

One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs

Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time

To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think

Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land

Full of the same wind

That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

A Thank You

If all you need is a day to see you through a year,
Then it'll only take a minute to thank those you hold dear. 
So to my friends who celebrated the night
And those that wished well my day,
I look forward to joining you
In this my 21st year fray.

The Fishmonger

What would you like duck?
This one?
You sure?
Cleaned and gutted?
That'll be a tenner, aha!
Scales for price
And scraped to the floor.
Cut up?
3 or 4?
The hammer lifted to the knife,
Smack.
Crack.
Is that all?
And onto the next
And what for you?
An ongoing play
A holla and call.

Untitled

You are not some star, a mere twinkle in the sky.
A light amongst uncountable others.
You are the sun, the centre of our world.
The light like no other.
You give life and warmth,
And so the odds we defy.

Constant Rejection

Due to high number of applicants
Keep an eye out in the future
You have been unsuccessful
Not this time around
Unlucky
Sorry.

No.

Wade through it all until
Congratulations you have been successful
Your application stood out from them all
We look forward to working with you
Welcome to the company
Well done.

Yes.