Collette and I squizzed in on our rusted but trusted Honda 125 to a cheap and cheeky B&B in Pemuteran. It was red hot, dry and unforgiving like my wit on the third day of a session. There was a playful, older, Aussie couple downing Bintang on sun-loungers, they looked like they’d seen a few parties and even more relationship counsellors.
And there was Jesper, bobbing.
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Waking up and writing love poems in bed in Ubud, Bali. A lovely way to start the day. This one was forged as part of a reading for a friend’s wedding. Continue reading
This post is a follow on to an earlier post called, ‘A Poem: Watching A Fly On A Slate Table: A Fly Tetralogy’. With the full privilege of a month in a Himalayan hut, I was granted the rare liberty of observing a common fly for a period not too removed of two hours. I’d avoided flies in Rishikesh: they’d usually flown hot, straight from a homeless and vomiting cow’s arse. But here in the flowery mountains, I imagined this one had just danced from a pink rose or at worst had been pestering a butterfly. You may think that flies are just black dots that you brush off, but I firmly advocate closer inspection. A whole world is waiting in the minutiae. My protracted period of muscidae monitoring resulted in the following poem, which is a sequel to my earlier poem. My main gripe is that there is no mention of Jeff Goldblum. Continue reading
I won’t be snorting anything through this! A little poem about something I found in my wallet. Continue reading
Parmath Niketan ashram by the Ganges in Rishikesh was our base for a week after we escaped the 46 degree heat of the Indian desert. In the ashram we rested, ate incredibly healthily and practiced yoga.
Under a tree in the pretty, lush gardens by the yoga school (which is incidentally just next to the World Toilet College) Collette and I took a couple of hours to relax surrounded by the butterflies, colour shifting lizards, tropical birds and insects before we were rudely disturbed by the rhesus macaques. I was writing plenty of poems during the peace of this time and here is one inspired by the garden beasties.
Hello and good day to all
Please find below my three poems as entries to your fabulously apt poetry competition. I am early, like all good boy scouts and I believe I have met the brief and provided verses true to the commoner, the common good and the music of poetry.
My important details are as follows:
Name: Peter Boydell
Email: peter.boydell@hotmail.co.uk
WhatsApp: +44(0)7730 098 486
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With the full privilege of a month in a Himalayan hut, I was granted the rare liberty of observing a common fly for a period not too removed of two hours. I’d avoided flies in Rishikesh: they’d usually flown hot, straight from a homeless and vomiting cow’s arse. But here in the flowery mountains, I imagined this one had just danced from a pink rose or at worst had been pestering a butterfly. You may think that flies are just black dots that you brush off, but I firmly advocate closer inspection. A whole world is waiting in the minutiae. My protracted period of muscidae monitoring resulted in the following poem.
complaints book available 