My one-eyed neighbour makes it into one of my newly published Fibonacci poems.

I'm often under scrutiny in my small Lewes urban garden but I'm getting used to it. I live next door to a one-eyed Siamese cat and, without actually being on speaking terms, we have a pleasant enough relationship which I have now recorded in one of my new Fibonacci poems published today in Issue 22 of  The Fib Review.

Sometimes it's good to have a solid but silent relationship with someone who likes my garden as much as I do.

If you want to read my new poem along with the other three poems in The Fib Review, here's a link:

http://www.musepiepress.com/fibreview/index.html

Don't just read it for my work though - there's a lot in this excellent journal and i'm proud to be included there again for the eighteenth consecutive time.

A new poetry anthology includes one of my poems among the first fruits of Autumn.

I got my copy of a new anthology today, The Four Seasons published by Kind of a Hurricane Press in Florida, USA.  I'm happy that they wanted to publish my short poem, Gardening Tips, in this collection of season-themed poetry.  The poem's main theme is the impulse to plant daffodil bulbs in the cold days of Autumn so it was a pleasant coincidence that the book arrived around the same time that I took delivery of next spring's daffodil and tulip bulbs for my small Lewes town garden.

I have put the box in my garden shed where it will sit until mid-November when I shall plant them in the cold earth. Why do I do this every Autumn? There's a clue in the photograph below.

If you want to buy a copy of the paperback, here are some links to Amazon:

In the USA:

http://www.amazon.com/Four-Seasons-Various-Authors/dp/1517431840/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1446045164&sr=8-6&keywords=A.J.+Huffman+poetry

 In the UK:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Four-Seasons-Various-Authors/dp/1517431840/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1446045164&sr=8-6&keywords=A.J.+Huffman+poetry

One man and his pencil - a special relationship.

I own a number of pens, ball point, felt-tip and fountain, and they all have their function in my life. Also, a lot of my time is spent at the computer and I'm perfectly happy typing away all day. There is, however, a special relationship in my working life and that is the bond between me and my pencil. There is something especially intimate and natural about writing poetry with a pencil and I have a number of little note books which I keep with me and where I do exactly that. Over the last few years I've written over seventy Fibonacci poems, many of them published in the specialist Fibonacci poetry journal, The Fib Review,  http://www.musepiepress.com/fibreview/ and most of them begin life in this rain-spattered book. It's interesting sometimes to look back and see how these little syllable-count poems began.

I have a number of pencils but the one in the photograph has been companion for some time now and, silly though it might sound, I've grown attached to it. I feel that we know each other very well and I respect the way it puts up with my terrible hand-writing and the often intense pressure I put on it when I write.  It is also tolerant about being chewed during those thoughtful moments when, in olden times, I might well have simply lit a cigarette. So this little pencil and I are friends.

I have my rather superior pencil sharpener too - it's a souvenir from the Peggy Guggenheim Museum in Venice and, over time, it has sharpened but also whittled down my pencil many times a day until now I'm brought to a sad moment of parting.

My old friend is now getting so small that I fear it's reaching the end of its working life. Just how much smaller can I make it before it ceases to function as a writing implement? What do you think? Is it time to chuck it? Should I retire it to the back of my stationery drawer or just throw it into the bin? I have plenty more pencils so I should stop being sentimental perhaps.

Recently I was given a posh Edwardian propelling pencil as a birthday present. It's made of silver and is elegantly ornamented so it's the type of pencil that should be used on special occasions like noting down a telephone number, scribbling an aide-memoire, making a light-handed and desultory doodle or, best of all, it's perfect when I'm in the mood to write a gentle and thoughtful poem conceived in tranquillity. If I'm in my usual writing gusto though, the leads just break on first contact with the paper.

No, my little pencil does that job best but I know that I am going to have to make a decision. Which of these lovely new pencils, another present, should I choose next? It's an important moment because whichever it is, it might be with me for a long time and through many writing adventures - both good and bad. Farewell little pencil.