Category Archives: creative writing

Getting your self-published books into libraries

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A useful article on how to get self-published books into libraries.

I know from my own experience, that approaching libraries directly is a productive means of getting your work onto their shelves.

I was delighted when Liverpool Central Library, wrote to confirm that they had added 2 copies of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, (http://moyhill.com/clock/), to their shelves.

As a result of me contacting Swansea University (my former place of study), they kindly accepted my donation of one copy of “My Old Clock”.

Consequently, from my own experience I can say that getting your self-published books into libraries is perfectly possible.

Shall I speak

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Shall I speak of turtle doves
And innocent loves,
and a world where all are good
And do as they should?

Shall I talk of men upright
Who say “good night”,
And leave,
And never deceive?

Or shall I speak
Of the flesh that is weak
And men who seek
For the discreet door?

I know which you would prefer,
But a circle is not a square
And squire and maid
Are not always staid.

Walking through the churchyard, I saw a shape

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Walking through the churchyard, I saw a shape.
There can be no escape
From the tomb.
The gloom
Is there
For those who care
To look beyond a sunny day.
continuing on my way
I passed that tree,
That did loom
Over tomb
And me.

There was a young model named Louise

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There was a young model named Louise
Who liked her audience to please.
When she appeared on the catwalk,
The judges reached for a fawk,
As her dress it was made of peas!

Why do I strive, for that which I can not possess?

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Why do I strive, for that which I can not possess?
Is the sun’s caress
Not enough
That I must grasp at other stuff?
Caught
On the wheel
Of thought
I feel
That I aught …

Be done
With useless thinking.
I shall at life’s fountain be drinking,
For existence doth run
Away,
And I can not reclaim a single day
Spent,
In thinking on a nymph’s unknowable scent.

Lothario Growing Old

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As I grow older, my blood cools.
I shall leave fools
To kick against the rules
And retire
From desire,
For the fire
Has burned me to the core.
The flames roar
On occasions still entices.
But no, I will not haggle over prices!
Fools may pursue their own devices
While I drink
The water that cools
And think
On half-forgotten spices.

Writing Prompt, “Excuse me, have you got the time please?”

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Licence to use image obtained – Copyright: worac 123RF Stock Photo

“Excuse me, have you got the time please?”

“No, sorry”.

In the early hours of this morning (Saturday 26 August), I became conscious of my dog wandering around my home. This is, generally a sign that he needs to go out so (with some reluctance given the ungodly hour), I threw on some clothes and took my restless friend outside. I am not at my best of an early morning. Consequently I received quite a shock when a young woman enquired about the time.

On returning home and checking the time, I discovered that it was 1:41. Idly I wondered what took a young woman out at such a late hour. Possibly she was waiting for a bus (there is a bus stop close to my home). She could, perhaps have been visiting one of the residents of the flats in which I reside, or someone in the neighbouring block. Alternatively …

In any event it occurred to me that a fellow writer out there might like to use this as a writing prompt. If so, I would be interested to read what you write.

Kevin

Plates

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Once he would wait
In a state
Of needing,
To begin his feeding.
The plate
Would arrive.
Man felt alive
As he ate.
But no,
It was not always so,
For on occasions he would feed
And reluctant to retire,
His greed
Did more desire
Breed.

A wise man did once remark
On this truth stark,
“There is enough for every man’s need,
But not his greed”.
With indifference or hate
Man comes to regard the plate.
But what of the wish
Of the dish?
For do not plates
Have states
Of being?
A dish, itself seeing
Reflected back, in glass
Thinks “alas”,
And wishes for all this to pass.