Sarah St Vincent Welch - recording a recent experience in Project 366

I am unable to do the questions for a couple more weeks. My mind is in many places at the moment, and a crucial paid work time (small pay!) but hey it's something. I know I can't squeeze my mind into that answering question mode. I have to do it too many other places at the moment. (But I will). I am very interested in where the poems come from for want of a better way to say it. And the interaction between them and the creative processes behind them and what happens next with other people' work and reactions. And for me the already existing threads we have picked up, or lose, I felt it from day one, or even from the moment it was suggested to me, and I think it became more present because I was aware of them daily, and I wanted to record them like Marion Milner, (of 'A Life of One's Own') but that is a vast task in itself beyond my present circumstances. So I am just going to record what happened so far with a little poem (and there are many example like this for me and others) because I have become aware that earlier remarks (even if small supportive and casual) that contribute to the conversation disappear from the blog (the comments I mean) after a while. I had a look for some early ones in January tracing back the journey and realised the comments were gone or I can no longer see them.

'midnight near

biting at my shoulder

a whisper an angle a flutter

I could see that it might work, but

shouting shouting fists at my window

heart hot heart writhes the whisper stopped

a poem scared away a song swallowed in fear

Rob S Oh Sarah, that's a song. Beautiful

Janette H Biting at my shoulder... I feel the bite some nights too when I'm trying to force the poetry to not take time away from my children.

Susan H What an extraordinary piece of writing.

Efi H absolutely stunning

Myron L Good shape and sad phrases

Robbie V a poem about being unable to write a poem due to terror — a triumph

Anna C Reminds me of Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights

Chelate mm... Cathy's wrist on the window pane


Anna C yes, getting cut on the glass

Sarah StVW Wow! Thanks everyone. A poem written in absolute desperation. Wuthering Heights and that scene at the beginning is one of the great passages in literature for me, I feel it part of me, but I didn't have it in mind when this emerged, so that is interesting. I had the feeling of a poem emerging the threads the wanderings the voice emerging in my mind and then I had some very bad energy from the outside world come to me at about 11pm, (email communication) which is really becoming deadline time for this project, and it killed what was happening in my mind, my heart was racing I was scared about what was communicated, that it would also rob me of the post a day which I have so far achieved, and I just resorted to writing about that experience. Thanks! I am so glad you felt it worked. And I had taken that quirky picture in the Blue Mountains very recently on a walk with Jane Skelton and I was wondering if I could use it for anything.'

All of that I really valuable and interesting feedback for me. It give me some feel for possible responses.

So I won't do this often, probably not again, but it is a little record for me. I was way surprised people thought this poem ok. I am not into the 'intentional fallacy', but it is magical, where thing come from, how they are received, what happen next. Anna has written one picking up the 'Wuthering Heights' connection she made. 'Small arms'.


I look to your poems, images, how I am feeling, what I have noticed or been thinking about, to seek poems. And then they are something else again.