Beast From the East

It’s the first day of calendar Spring and the UK is in crisis. I’m not talking about Brexit, it is much more serious. We are in the grip of a visit from The Beast From The East. Schools have been closed, flights and train journeys cancelled and there have been reports of hand to hand fighting in supermarkets as traumatised Brits rush to stockpile food for the impending doom.

Although the slight covering of snow sitting on the grass outside of the Poetry Den have left me a little perplexed as to the hysteria, watching and listening to the news bulletins provides plenty of material for the poet.  Which brings me to the focus for today’s Thursday Thoughts, Spring Poetry.

Spring provides so much for the poet to write about. The beautiful blooms of snowdrops set against dark soil, the gold tinge of daffodil stalks about to bloom; and the sudden change of pace of the Robins, Blackbirds and Thrush in preparation for the mating season.

There have been many wonderful poems written about Spring and I thought I would share one of mine, To Spring, by William Blake. I would love you to share your favourite Spring Poem (maybe one you have written yourself) in the comments section to this post. The beast is forecast to hit our village over the next few days and I might need some uplifting Spring poetry to raise my spirits. And to accompany having to break into the emergency rations of Malbec and chocolate.


To Spring


O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down

Through the clear windows of the morning, turn

Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,

Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!


The hills tell one another, and the listening

Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn’d

Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth

And let thy holy feet visit our clime!


Come o’er the eastern hills, and let our winds

Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste

Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls

Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.


O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour

Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put

Thy golden crown upon her languish’d head,

Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.


William Blake.



An Hour With Jake

An Hour With Jake

the phone knows it’s Jake,
the ringtone changes to one
with a depressed air.

I think he used to be
in the military
as he always
manages to bypass
the answerphone,

and it rings,
and rings,
and rings,
and rings,

five minutes is the limit.

“hi, it’s Jake.”
“oh, hi Jake, how’s things?”

scripts roll.

his, a tale of how
his wife,
his dog,
his work colleague,
don’t understand him.

mine, a crafted questionnaire
designed for glibness,
adding to the
self-help deception.

third Thursday each
month, 7pm – 8pm.
in two years,
little has changed.

this week he’s convinced
the goldfish has started
swimming with its back to him.

some weeks I switch him
to headphones and catch up
with important things in the office.
other weeks, the negativity
hijacks me, and I slump
in the armchair and
watch the crack creep
across the ceiling.

the end is always the same,
Jake giving thanks for my
empathy and kindness.
me, having to wash myself
from the inside out,
with Malbec.

© Davy D 2017

What is Poetry?

What is poetry blog

Sitting at a barbeque, at the weekend, a guest turned to me and said “I hear you’re a poet.”

A conversation ensued which led to me showing her the Inside the Mind of Davy D blog.

After a short while browsing on her phone, she turned to me and whispered,
“That’s not poetry, it’s just words and pictures……………. and it doesn’t even rhyme.”

Before we got to the “How many books have you published?” question I thanked her for the feedback and went and got another glass of Malbec.

In fairness, she had a point and raised a good question, what is poetry?

Standard dictionary definitions show poetry as;

1. The art or craft of writing verse.
2. Literature written in meter; verse.
3. Prose that resembles a poem in some respect, as in form or sound.
4. Poetic qualities, spirit or feeling in anything.

Ask five poets to define poetry and they will give you five different answers.

To complicate matters further the website Poem Of Quotes lists 55 types of poetic form, ranging from ABC Poetry to Visual-Concrete Poetry.

So how do we establish what is poetry, and does it really matter?

Each week I read and enjoy many forms of poetry, some of which break the boundaries of what is considered to be conventional poetry. In my view, the most important thing should be the impact, thoughts and emotions the poem (in whatever form) leaves with the reader.

As William Wordsworth said, “All good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of feelings.”

What are your thoughts on what is, or is not, poetry?