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Welcome to our new domain
but not, it seems to me, round here. Many many months have passed since last Scribble was updated. Inspirations have occurred and been passed over, marvelous poetry has passed through the pages of wordlovers, been collected in folders and lain, lemon scented, waiting for the attention of the editor. Meanwhile, your editor has spent the months in battle with illness, personal and familial, with making ends meet and striving to earn an income, and with looking for spaces in the day in which to be creative. In short, in those trials and tempers which are part of real and everyday life. Whether we have at last achieved a time of good working order remains to be seen, but at the very least, it seemed to me to be time to upload these poems which have been set now for a very long in the secrecy of my harddrive. Time indeed, to see where we go from here.
I do remember saying at some stage before Scribble was on the internet, that I wished for a place to keep all those poems I loved to read over and over again. I think that was the origin of the website which was to be a kind of archive for the personal pleasure of the wordlovers and scribblers of the time. As it happens however, Scribble took off in such a way that we never quite achieved the archive or the retrospective. Now, after so long a gap I'm aware that there are still more poems which I long to set in amber, still living and fresh in my mind.
This brings a new awareness to my mind, a new 'standard' of selection, if you will, in that I will now be searching the archives simply for those poems which have stuck in my mind. Bill Cunningham's remarkable history series, for example, Arthur Isaacson's lovely reminder to his daughter, a vast range of works by Pavel, the witty and gorgeous impact of Terry Bowden, a 'new' contributor from Malta. Works by old favourites, certainly, but also those who are relatively new, such as Neil Hawkes, who feels like an old friend already, and the wonderful Gallahers, along with our faithful witty and enlightened friend Noel.
Another of the original factors in Scribble was that our wordlovers were nearly all Kiwis. This very soon became less than the truth. As you can perhaps tell we are very much an international company and one which takes enormous pleasure in the close warmth of friends from afar.
The third matter was a bit startling. Not long after we became http://www.nzscribble.net, Nexus ceased to be as it had been. email addresses which had belonged to Nexus no longer always worked. The forums still exist, but they are part of a new and different environment. Folk have moved on, begun different things, and are learning new forms of creativity. Scribble also moved away from the Nexian connection, much as the Kiwi poets explored their new international friendships. Despite the deep cherishing, and indeed the gratitude and lasting inspiration of our hosts and sponsors, we were no longer borne along in quite the old way. For this reason the Nexus Collection is becoming 'The Scribble Collections' and gradually, over the next little while, one will be seeing (I hope) the growth of Individual National Collections. These are almost bound to include such a noble Cultural heritage as the unique and delightful AustraScot, and his Grandson.
The long space aside from editing has somehow lent a new perspective in that I realize that the constant theme of both Scribble and Wordlovers has been spiritual and adventurous. I believe, now that I think about it that it has always been so, and perhaps this was what attracted me in the first place, when I sat for so many weeks looking and admiring and wishing I knew how to write.
In the meanwhile two very negative things happened.
One was an attack on Hine. I am still tempted to remove that long poem from the Collection, though I think myself that writing it, and perhaps completing it is a vocation and not a choice. The grounds of the attack were these. That I am not a Maori, that I did not quote my sources, that I might be better with 'my own Goddess and my own stories' and that I never, in any place, speak of our human oneness. I have no answer for this criticism, save that to me the story is living. In blocking Hine, I seem to have blocked some deep source of creativity in myself. Yet I am also very loth to put myself forward, especially where I cause such deep distress as my critic felt.
The other negative thing is this. I'm aware that my html is terrible, and I have some of the sensitivity of an lass learning to embroider. I know the inside should be almost as beautiful as the outside. The more I worked on different programs the less I was able to produce the delicate visual relationships on the screen that I was used to producing in print. It was Terry Bowden who put that into perspective for me, and encouraged me to take pleasure in what I can do, flawed as that is.
WE ARE LISTED WITH
Direct Find's Arts_and_Humanities.Poetry category.
Finally I notice that because we do enjoy words so much we attract literature that is fine, even if it is not necessarily poetry. With this in mind, I must forewarn you that our reviews in the near future do include a book of poetry, but are also likely to include a children's fantasy novel and a modern book which I find hard to characterize. Screaming at the Wall.
Forward with Love
I cannot bring these observations to a close without giving my deepest thanks to two people who, if they have ever lost faith in me, have never told me so, who have offered help, looked forward to the results of these poor efforts.
who seem to give me faith in myself that I can return to Scribble and take up the living heritage again, who have encouraged me and offered help at every turn. If Scribble has a soul I suspect it lies in the likes of Stardancer and Terry Bowden. To them, my thanks, this brief catch up and any future editions of Scribble are dedicated, with my love and heartfelt thanks.
A new poet, a mother from Cromwell, New Zealand
makes her first appearance with this first edition of the new year and the new domain site. I'm stunned by the rich celebration of female warmth exhibited by these four poems. These are deep, warm protests, in which the awareness its in itself so deeply poetic as to overcome, it seems to me, some difficulties with form.
The graceful, almost nostalgic 'Harvest' finds its way in this edition from the main reader page into the main body of Scribble. The poem celebrates the intimacy of human beings, their seasons and the interweavings of the cycles of earth and heart.
Our Tristan flew off to London. Still he drops by from time to time with new poems, songs, each of them musical, even those works he fondly supposes to be 'unpoetic'. I've chosen three of his more recent works to represent the whole of what is fasinating growth of an already deeply poetic mind.
New Work in
New work by Gregory Brimblecombe kicks off the Collection. These are thoughtful works, atmospheric and gentle. Corn-Shucked, a poem of paradise with unforgettable phrasing atmosphere, and a shocking, multi leveled ending. Disease of my heart, delicate breath of love and wonder imagery, exquisite language, and again that wondrous phrasing - is another unique and exquisite love poem, something extraordinary. Eyes on you, had an unusual effect on me with the underplay of 'one eyed, double vision' and its sense of justice, tears and an kind of willful hope. In-between dreams, On the subject of death with their kinetic impact and sense of oblique commentary round off a selection which shows a new maturity and depth in familiar and much admired poet.
Gypsy Pete's rather fine Fire Drake also makes its first showing here. Well worth reading again and again - it is an engrossing work, apocalyptic, dreamlike, and, in the light of later events, prophetic.
Mike Subritsky sent me his 'Subritzky's Christmas' accompanied with a terrible curse should the work not be passed on to veterans. I decided that the only way to do that was to publish it. It is sobering work, with a twinkle in it, but it may be a while before I forget the bullet marked sleigh.
SCRIBBLE IS A PROUD MEMBER OF
We no longer look at poems that are submitted as attachments. Though our Anti-virus systems are extremely good, we simply cannot afford to take the risk of losing the poetry already on our hard drive. So please, if you are submitting to 'Scribble' or to 'The Collection, paste your poem into the body of the email.
For Discussion with some of your favorite scribble poets