{"id":592,"date":"2010-03-18T17:50:52","date_gmt":"2010-03-18T17:50:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=592"},"modified":"2010-03-18T17:50:52","modified_gmt":"2010-03-18T17:50:52","slug":"martin-figuras-in-the-day-room","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/martin-figuras-in-the-day-room\/","title":{"rendered":"Martin Figura&#39;s in the day room"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><font size=\"2\"><span style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\">Two poems by Martin Figura \u2013 both come from his upcoming Arrowhead collection <\/span><span style=\"font-style: italic; font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\">Whistle<\/span><span style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\">&#8230;<\/span><br style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\"><br style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\"><img decoding=\"async\" style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\" src=\"http:\/\/ink-sweat-and-tears.blogharbor.com\/CoverMOck_4_Jpeg.jpg\"><br style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\"><\/font><font size=\"2\"><b style=\"\"><br \/><\/b><\/font><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\" class=\"MsoNormal\"><font size=\"2\"><b style=\"\"><br \/><\/b><\/font><\/p>\n<p><font size=\"2\"><span style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\"><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">Mother<\/span><br \/>&nbsp;<br \/>As its representative on earth she sets<br \/>the lemon meringue onto the cloth &#8211;<br \/>its perfect roundness and snowy peaks. <br \/>&nbsp;<br \/>She divides it up with the cake knife,<br \/>cuts through the sweet crust<br \/>into the bright tartiness beneath.<br \/>&nbsp;<br \/>We devour it; lick every last crumb<br \/>from around our mouths, <br \/>leave a shining empty plate.<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">~ ~ ~ ~ ~<\/span><br style=\"font-weight: bold;\"><br style=\"font-weight: bold;\"><br style=\"font-weight: bold;\"><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">Day Room<\/span><br \/>&nbsp;<br \/>Frank sits down, straight backed<br \/>and stares ahead, not noticing<br \/>the TV\u2019s whine or the clatter<br \/>of the table tennis, he opens<br \/>his mouth and a beam of light<br \/>comes out, cuts through the smoke<br \/>and hits the blank wall opposite.<br \/>&nbsp;<br \/>A boy with a bicycle, boys behind<br \/>school desks &#8211; one with a cross<br \/>marked above his head,&nbsp; a soldier<br \/>waving from a train, a bear in a zoo,<br \/>a ship, Buckingham Palace, a young man<br \/>in a pub with a girl, a wedding day,<br \/>a baby in a Silver Cross pram, a worker<br \/>in overalls, a children\u2019s birthday party,<br \/>a first holy communion, a holiday,<br \/>a day out at the castle,<br \/>a pebble-dashed house.<br \/>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">* Martin Figura<\/span> left school at 15 to join the Army. He left in 1997 after 25 years to become a photographer. His work has been widely published and exhibited, including at the National Portrait Gallery. His first poetry collection <span style=\"font-style: italic;\">The Little Book of Harm<\/span> (Firewater Press) was published in 2000 and reprinted in 2001,2002 &amp; 2003. <span style=\"font-style: italic;\">Ahem<\/span> (Eggbox) his second collection was published in 2005. He is member of The Joy of 6 with whom he has performed at numerous events and festivals, including tours of Wales and New York. He begins a touring show of <span style=\"font-style: italic;\">Whistle<\/span>, produced by Apples and Snakes, at the Ledbury Poetry Festival in July.<br \/><\/span><\/font><br \/><br style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\"><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Two poems by Martin Figura \u2013 both come from his upcoming Arrowhead collection Whistle&#8230; Mother&nbsp;As its representative on earth she setsthe lemon meringue onto the cloth &#8211;its perfect roundness and snowy peaks. &nbsp;She divides it up with the cake knife,cuts through the sweet crustinto the bright tartiness beneath.&nbsp;We devour it; lick every last crumbfrom around [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-592","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/592","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=592"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/592\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=592"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=592"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=592"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}