Last week I spent time with poets and writers, both published and unpublished, on a writing course run by the ever generous Jan Fortune of Cinnamon Press. We stayed in the wilds of Snowdonia at Pete the Poet’s place and did not have internet access, which is my excuse for the absence of blog spots.
I fell in love with two poems especially, and perhaps the poets too. KateThomas who wrote about her mother and, I guess, struck a chord, and Pete (the poet) Marshall.
I know Pete as a performance poet, and very funny he is too. He can also be moving. When we ventured into the hills he read some of his poems inspired by the view. It was almost like listening to music: the more familiar a piece the more affecting.