Breakfast in Bed

I am tempted today to invite people to come and enjoy ‘Breakfast in Bed’ with me, but I’m not that bold, although some of the poems in my new book are quite bold – and I will be reading some of them out at various events over the next few months.

I’m delighted that my second poetry collection, ‘Breakfast in Bed’ is published today by Indigo Dreams Publishing.

The first poem in the book (see below) invites the reader to spend an hour or so adrift …  contemplating and reflecting on many ideas and feelings around the idea of ‘love’.

This is from the back cover:

‘Love arrives in an array of flavours, scents and colours. Taste it in food and nature: in honey, ice-cream-sundae, salt of the sea, fresh ripe strawberries.  Explore the love of a small child for her parents, a mother for a lost baby, a family for their father. Romance and eroticism, love for self, feelings encountered when love is lost, withheld or twisted are here to experience too.’

For more information about the book, including generous endorsements from writing colleagues Maggie Harris and Kaite O’Reilly, see the publisher’s website: https://www.indigodreams.co.uk/jackie-biggs/4594692749

Copies are available mail order from them, or direct from me at readings.  My main launch event is on Wednesday, October 16^th, at The Cellar Bar, Cardigan SA43 1HU. 7.30pm to 9pm. Free entry and delicious nibbles. All welcome.

The new collection begins:

Alone and together

A city that snares

slow rhythms

(Federico Garcia Lorca)

A river flows through

afternoon’s slow heat,

Lorca’s pace

                (together and alone

                juntos y solo)

babble at café tables

rises and drops into shadow

by the waterside

sun falls through trees,

the flicker of fresh leaves

in green spring

                (solo y juntos

                alone and together)

wine is red, time is yellow

the rhythm of the river is ours

for this hour adrift

Poem for Mark

We've lost a few good friends recently. This one was especially shocking and sad. Actor, director, poet and performer Mark Montinaro died on August 2nd, aged only 59. A tragic loss. His many friends and lovely family read poetry and tributes to Mark at the wake at the Dylan Thomas Boathouse in Laugharne, where he had performed so many of Thomas's pieces to critical acclaim. As I listened the words for my own tribute to Mark began to come. This is the poem I wrote afterwards.

Moments

i.m Mark Montinaro

We sat easy in the chairs in the parlour

of Dylan’s old Boathouse home

one summer Saturday

as the sea slid dark over the reaching sands below.

We chatted our comfy evening away

talking poetry, forms and frailties

and rhythm, assonance and rhyme,

just Jonathan, you, Dave and me.

And we met on my winter birthday walk

in the puddled street  beneath the Castle wall

on a dreek and windy weekday afternoon;

and again we chinwagged poetry

while rain plastered hair to our faces

and stung our eyes.

Your words rang out many nights

in the Cellar Bar, your voice large and full

to the corners of the blackdowned room.

You travelled all the way to Aberystwyth

to support our Rockhopper set on ‘time’,

and even again we prattled on poetry

and performance skills over coffee in the Arts Centre  bar;

and at our gig on Spoken Word Saturday

you were pleased to introduce me to your lovely Mam,

so proud, you and her, both together.

Now you are gone, so fast and so soon

and I listen to poets read their words about you

from the time-honoured Boathouse steps

and even more     your mother’s face

shows her pride in you.

And over and under all their voices

I hear oystercatchers keening

and curlews calling the tide

as the waters spill over

and fill the foreshore of this timeless

limitless bay.