Tuesday, April 14

Piel Island...A Poem for Thursday



 

 I'd been wanting to go to this island for a few years. The last time we made the trip the weather was windy and the Ferryman refused to take us across...who can blame him..the currents alone are treacherous between the mainland...Barrow-in-Furness and the island. This is no ordinary place..it has it's own King and Throne and also  Piel Castle. The Abbott of Furness Abbey owned the rights to all the takings from the sea going craft coming from both Ireland and The Isle-of-Man. It's not touristy and apart from some terraced houses the pub is the only occupied building.
We spent a day just wandering the edge and listening to the skylarks which are everywhere on this little piece of land.



 















Piel Island
 
The skylarks are rising
Drawing me far away
From the nest low in the
Tufts of maran grass that
Grow out of the mussel beach.
I stop to watch their ascent
And listen as the lark
Song joins the soft keening
Of an April wind 'til
Wind takes over and
The bird is lost to my eyes.

Tuesday, March 17

A Poem for Thursday...prompted by #DeVerse today.


When I was just five years of age my mother walked with me to the bus stop and we boarded the bus down the Ormeau Road.
We got off the bus halfway down the road and walked  to a little terrace house in a street just off the main thoroughfare.
She knocked on the door which opened straight on to the pavement...and we were ushered in to a little room with other children in it and a man...I was to call .."Mr. Graeme Roberts"..Why the prefix was always there I'm not sure ...but it seemed appropriate!
So I was introduced to R.L.Stevenson...A.A. Milne ...Rose Fyleman and many, many others.
This poem is of my memories and the lifelong love that he instilled in me for the rhythm and the rhyme of life.


Monday, March 16

A Poem for Thursday...in time for St. Patrick's Day

We attended The Aldeburgh Poetry Festival again last November. I went to one of the workshops at The Red House...where Benjamin Brittan had lived.
Do you ever feel out of your depth in these situations?
We were given a sheaf of poetry chosen from other languages.
I chose one in gaelic by Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill..."Ceist na Teangan"
Now I hadn't ever learnt Irish...went to the wrong school!! but dad was an Armagh man and over my life I realised that some of those "odd" words that he and Aunt Cis used were most probably Gaelic.
Whether Irish or Scottish I cannot say....but definitely not Anglo Saxon English.
So when asked by the leader of the day to write a poem based on the sound of the words and the rhythm of the lines...I thought of dad and all the story-telling that he had done when he was alive.
...and I wrote this piece, making up a story of chieftains and betrayal in Ireland...
of which I now know from reading Irish history...there was a lot between clans!! 

I looked up the translation of the original poem and there was the story of Moses in the basket being found and reared by the Pharoah's daughter....
Maybe it was the rhythm...or maybe something much deeper made me think of this story of betrayal.

Tuesday, March 10

The Girl's Grammer School....Palmyra Square..Cultural Quarters...Warrington



Something about a door draws us ...it draws us in , it draws us through and then leads us out...
...this door is one of many stunning examples of the interior architecture of #TheGirlsGrammerSchool #Warrington ...now @theInstitute in Palmyra Square.
I was lucky enough to be able to take pics in the building before it was knocked around a bit for the recent renovations ...


































I love the featured stairwell also...the faded pink of the flooring and the iron work of the railings.....still there...thankfully.


so much history in this old town still to discover!

Wednesday, February 18

A Poem for Thursday....Beyond Silence (with many thanks to S. Heaney)

Is it the rhythm of the wheels on the motorway surface or the rapidly changing landscape that stimulates my mind so much when we take long road trips. The radio is on...sharply relaxed in the seat by the potter...watching out for fools on the road. They love roads do fools...learnt that by my father's side as he taught me to drive in my teenage years.

Beyond Silence
Something beautiful happened
On our way down the M6
England's main blood line.
A great flock of starlings
and a murmuration! While
Snow spat down on us and 
The wind struck hard as iron.
Leaving us with only
A holy heavy silence.

Friday, February 13

Do you do what I do every year...buy bulbs and then forget to plant them...or even buy the bulbs in flower in the early spring to pop in the ground and never get round to it?
Pat at The Weaver of Grass and Karen at Moonlight and Hares have the bestest pics of their snowdrops.....
My snowdrops have all but disappeared ..I go out looking for them in late winter...but only the early leaves of the bluebells appear. So I buy again...and once again don't get round to putting them in the soil.
Thankyou Pat and Karen for the pics...I must survive on these...and maybe manage this year to plant the pots!

I may get round to the tulips...I really love red tulips..here's hoping!

Friday, January 30

A Poem for Thursday..... cinquains...or not!



 Tony Maude is heading up Meeting The Bar...The Cinquain ...explained for DeVerse today.
Thankyou Tony...I'm fairly well rubbish at these ...and I know the second verse isn't quite right...but here goes!!


Travelling Home

A chevron
 of geese flies 
over the roadway
As we drive close
 by Cambridge.


The moon 
rises…blue
edged on the right side
…Large-eyed and nodding to the left.
The  Brothers still moan their eternal prayer…
”Let it be me”…


So I suppose there is an extra line in there!! Look forward to reading the poems today.