Roisin Markham

I have taken to reading a poem first thing in the morning, before scrolling. It’s replaced my drawing temporarily. It’s not that I’ve stopped drawing I’ve just taken a small sus béag from it.

I’m writing more both by hand and with the research work on my desk for two clients.

I wrote this in the garden before I began my work last week, sharing it out further on Bluesky:

I read a poem this morning
words held so well
but sparse
what more was expected
grief and loss
now hang internally
like a washing line in weather

we hand enormous feelings to our poets, artists, writers and musicians to help us hold them
that is the balm
when it is all too much

It was written as a kind of love letter to the poem I read, it kinda became a poem itself. The act of writing poetry and creative writing is a moment we choose to pay attention. A celebration, now an anti-AI sentiment and action.
I stated it was not for the extractive robots or LLM’s, it was for you.

Solace in relational capacity
oh the sorry state of the world when we are so isloated we turn to and through machines

Have you spoken to another human today that you don’t live with?

how does this isolation impact our care for each other, ourselves and th earth?
if we feel isolation within our lives, work, place we live, other communities we belong to... how does it effect us?
changing that
thats the work.

Here I attest I will not rabbit hole or naval gaze on writing, blogging or photography nor research or thinking.

A whatsapp conversation reminds me why poetry is strong salve for our sore souls. In a world where modernity speeds things up, traps individuality our humanity is more than on the line.

Poems like books and writers come in different strains, pace and tone.

I will find a place for my poetry.

Do you read poetry? who you are reading or what kind of poetry is your salve or crux?

I’ll leave you with this contrast