Dear Bob, there's a lot to reply to in this e-mail of yours! Thanks for your 
helpful comments on the poem; I'm going to give them some thought and then 
write another draft and see where it gets to. But basically I want to keep 
it simple.And i certainly don't want it to end up in the hands of Radox!!!
Re launch: it is an odd word to use of bringing a book out in the public 
eye, isn't it? We take words so much for granted. Perhaps a poem might sail 
into someone's head and anchor there a while, or maybe it might sail away 
altogether and vanish in the Bermuda Triangle, or become a ghost-ship  that 
haunts other poems that follow it. I have no idea what land-locked countries 
use, but there's a thought... stampede the book out? Take-off? Birth?
Julia Darling was a remarkable woman; I met her at Chester's Lit Fest one 
year, when she was fighting back after yet another episode of cancer. She 
had such courage!
One day soon no-one will notice spelling mistakes: they are so common now 
they'll soon be the status quo. How could you manage to sleep in a room with 
a  sonnet written round the walls? I'd have lain awake all night reading 
it... perhaps.
Good for you, to have read at Howarth. I had a visit there about 4 years 
ago, and was horrified at how unhealthy the village had been in the time of 
the Brontes, and astonished at how tiny the Brontes were - those miniature 
gloves in the display case. I also bought, in a peculiar dress shop selling 
period clothes, a fantastic 1930's dress with gold metallic threads stitched 
round the red flowers on it. And thin voile sleeves. I should wear it if I 
ever do a poetry reading again. I have only done a very few so far!
Thank you again for your thoughtful suggestions on The Bath,
Best wishes,
Gill----- 

Original Message ----- 
From: "Bob Cooper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, July 08, 2006 4:34 PM
Subject: Re: new post. The Bath.


> Hi Gill,
> I'm glad the book launch went well. I hope you you enjoyed watching it 
> sail away. It's an interesting image or metaphor to play with isn't it? A 
> launch... All kinds of connections can be made. H'm, it'd be interesting 
> to discover if the same metaphor is used in countries that are landlocked, 
> that don't have a tradition of ship-building or a fascination with the 
> sea...
> But to get to your poem!
> I concur with the comments about the first 3 lines! But keep reading!
> With the middle of the poem I'm cheekily thinking it might get lifted by 
> those making adverts for bath salts or bath oil! The imagery is very 
> powerful. I seem to think I want to remember what's actually there as 
> well, water and towels, but after I've read the piece I find myself 
> thinking: "H'm Radox Woodland Glade" and start thinking of paintings of 
> Diana The Huntress bathing in some painting by some voyeurestic old 
> Italian.
> So... I'm wondering if the poem could include more of a contrast! It's a 
> paradox that the confines of a bath can give you so much of the world 
> outside of the hospital - could you, perhaps, still allude to how 
> different it is to being confined to a bed? Which means putting (some of) 
> the information of the first three lines, perhaps in other words, 
> elsewhere in the poem? I feel I still want this to be a piece that 
> includes negative things as well as positive things.
> Two very powerful recent books about hospitals and serious illness are 
> Julia Darling's Sudden Collapses In Public Places, and her later one, 
> Apologies For Absence. There's also lots of stuff on the web about her. 
> But, be warned, if you come across the books - they're powerful.
> Bob
> Who once read at a Festival in Howarth and, in the place he was staying, 
> had a bath - and noticed there was a whole Shakespeare sonnet written 
> around the tops of the four walls, with a spelling mistake! (Just thought 
> I'd mention that!!!)
>
>>From: Gill McEvoy <[log in to unmask]>
>>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>>To: [log in to unmask]
>>Subject: new post. The Bath.
>>Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2006 22:22:29 +0100
>>
>>I apologise to you all that I haven't posted/commented lately; been very 
>>busy with the launch of "Uncertain Days" my first chap book. But it's 
>>sailed away now, and I'm back to normal things again.
>>
>>This poem was written recently  - and no doubt wants much improving - but 
>>it comes from 6 years ago when I was so ill I was in the local Hospice for 
>>a while, where a very kind Irish nurse gave me the best bath of my life!
>>
>>The Bath.
>>
>>The point of that bath was not to be clean -
>>I had gone nowhere but my bed and
>>was already washed.
>>You came to tell me it was run,
>>walked before me, your arms full of towels,
>>as if I were a lady and you my maid.
>>You helped me in, your hands tender for my safety;
>>I sank into a sweetness of heat and foam,
>>each burst bubble like a letting go of pain.
>>'Take your time', you said, and in that time
>>  I cruised islands of warm sand and soft ocean,
>>woodlands moist with leaves and mist,
>>summer days with bright red berries blinking out
>>from golden straw, came back
>>to you wrapping me gently in hot towels.
>>It was like those nights of perfect sleep,
>>soft, starless, bliss.
>>
>>Gill McEvoy.
>>
>>I'd be very glad of comments.
>>
> Hi Gill,
> I hope you you enjoyed watching it sail away. It's an interesting image or 
> metaphor to play with.
> But to get to your poem.
>
>
>>From: Gill McEvoy <[log in to unmask]>
>>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>>To: [log in to unmask]
>>Subject: new post. The Bath.
>>Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2006 22:22:29 +0100
>>
>>I apologise to you all that I haven't posted/commented lately; been very 
>>busy with the launch of "Uncertain Days" my first chap book. But it's 
>>sailed away now, and I'm back to normal things again.
>>
>>This poem was written recently  - and no doubt wants much improving - but 
>>it comes from 6 years ago when I was so ill I was in the local Hospice for 
>>a while, where a very kind Irish nurse gave me the best bath of my life!
>>
>>The Bath.
>>
>>The point of that bath was not to be clean -
>>I had gone nowhere but my bed and
>>was already washed.
>>You came to tell me it was run,
>>walked before me, your arms full of towels,
>>as if I were a lady and you my maid.
>>You helped me in, your hands tender for my safety;
>>I sank into a sweetness of heat and foam,
>>each burst bubble like a letting go of pain.
>>'Take your time', you said, and in that time
>>  I cruised islands of warm sand and soft ocean,
>>woodlands moist with leaves and mist,
>>summer days with bright red berries blinking out
>>from golden straw, came back
>>to you wrapping me gently in hot towels.
>>It was like those nights of perfect sleep,
>>soft, starless, bliss.
>>
>>Gill McEvoy.
>>
>>I'd be very glad of comments.
>>
>
>
>
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