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The Waveney & Blyth Arts writing competition culminated in a poetry reading at the Ferini Art Gallery, host to the ‘Murder of Crows’ Art exhibition. Twenty people gathered to share a meal, view the exhibition and hear the three short-listed poems. From 70 entries it had been difficult to choose only three but finally we made our choice. They were three very different poems but all had impressed us with their technical ability, the images they created in our minds, and some of the phrases they had used.

Rooks, crows and ravens were represented in the short list and writers drew inspiration from nature itself, from paintings and from literature.

The winner was chosen by public vote and the result was very close but Rooks: Where the Yew Tree Shadows Fall by James Knox Whittet, just pipped the post.

Thank you to everyone who entered and congratulations to our three short-listed poets and to James, our winner.

Thanks must also go to Michaela Barber at the Ferini Art Gallery for hosting and curating the crows art exhibition, [The exhibition ends on 24 September] and for hosting the Arts & Eats lunch. Thanks also to Beth Soule, of Suffolk Poetry Society, who ran an inspirational writing workshop at the Gallery using and reflecting some of the works of art.

We are almost at the end of our 2017 Celebrate programme but don’t forget our AGM on 21st October when we hope to showcase our Crow poems and artworks as we reflect on another successful year for Waveney & Blyth Arts and look forward to new events in 2018.

Here are the three short listed poems:

Rooks: Where The Yew Tree Shadows Fall

Your raucous voices have always been there

from childhood to age as you rise as one

to greet dawn or explode in winter air

when the last rays from the low sun have gone.

You would have called from high, arched beech branches

when baptismal water flowed from my head

and perfumed winds made the dewed bluebells dance

as watered light across the bare fields spread.

You joined in choruses of wedding hymns

that September evening when church bells rang,

leaves, like palms, rustled with your restless wings

and the sea loch mirrored the moonlight’s ring.

You’ll be there where the yew tree shadow falls

when I can’t be awakened by your calls.

James Knox Whittet

 

How to Dance with Death.

Take a lesson from Crow –

he knows all about it,

delights in it,

devours it for a  living.

Death gives him strength

with which to comfort you.

 

Crow stabs at the heart of death,

pins it  down under his kindly claws.

Crow can tell you how to embrace death,

how to make a good life

from its grisly lumps and strands.

 

Listen to the rattle of his shiny quills.

He will mantle you with his satin feathers.

See the gleam in his leather-trimmed eye –

a tear like a blackened pearl slides down.

Smell the sweet ooze of carrion as it slips

from his metal beak.

 

Crow will watch your back.

At the time of mourning he dresses for a ball.

Wrapped in a black down cloak,

he waits to hop the danse macabre

with you, his chosen partner.

Judith Wolton

 

A Pantoum for Nevermore

After ‘Nevermore’ by Paul Gaugin (1897) and ‘The Raven’, Edgar Alan Poe (1845)

 

Hungry for the forest’s treasure, burn, destroy, in equal measure.

Claws outstretch, first break the surface, forcing further, gaining purchase

where she, like a mango forming, green and glossy, knew sun’s warming

rays fall on her, innocently. Nevermore to ripen gently.

 

Claws outstretch to break the surface, forcing further, gaining purchase,

spreading wide ‘til nevermore the dappled leaves can let the ochre

rays fall on her, innocently. Never more to ripen gently,

lying on her side she listens; gossips prattle. Silent raven

 

spreads its wings ‘til nevermore the dappled leaves let in the ochre

beams primeval. Wings fold closer, body stiffens thinking of her.

Lying on her side she listens; gossips prattle. Silent raven,

hooded eyes, presentment telling, evermore its needs compelling,

 

screams. Primeval wings fold closer, body stiffens, thinking over

where she, like a mango forming, green and glossy, knew sun’s warming.

Hooded eyes, presentment telling, evermore its needs compelling,

hungry for the forest’s treasure, burns, destroys, in equal measure.

Fran Reader

Entries to the Crow writing competition have closed and three poems have been selected to go forward to the Arts and Eats lunch on 20^th September.

It proved difficult to choose only three from seventy entries but after much discussion, some reading aloud, and more discussion, three finally made it to the short-list. Next week we will publish the winning poem, chosen by a vote at the Arts & Eats lunch, and the two other shortlisted poems.

We were delighted with the response to the competition with entries from both within and outside the Waveney & Blyth valleys. All members of the crow family were represented except the most colourful – that collector of acorns, the jay. Ravens, rooks and crows were the most popular with many poems featuring their interaction with the writer, and others reaching back into the misty world of myth.

Sometimes the crow was only a starting point for the writer to refocus and reflect. Sometimes it was the focus of the poem. Only a handful of poems introduced an element of humour. Maybe black birds call up black thoughts.

Many writers chose to explore the crow’s long association with death, whether as a harbinger of doom, a scourer of the battlefield or a tidier–up of the world. How frequently we see crow and magpie, raven and rook, picking over a carcass. Last year I had to visit a waste recycling centre in Birmingham and was fascinated at the waste strewn, puddle rich grounds where crows sorted and sifted through the detritus that we unthinkingly cast into our rubbish.

Look at our blog next week to read the winning poems. But for now, a big thank you to everyone who entered. The response to our call out for artworks at the Ferini Art Gallery, and to the writing competition show that, black as it might be, the crow still engages and enthrals us.

NB Due to a cancellation there is one space left at the Arts & Eats lunch on 20^th September. Book now to hear the short-listed poems and see the art exhibition. And don’t forget, A Murder of Crows ends on 24^th September.

An enthusiastic group of beachcombing virgins gathered at Covehithe Church on what turned out to be a balmy sunny day on July 22^nd.  Walk leader Simon Raven outlined the programme for the day and we set off for a bit of creative trespassing along the cliff-tops to Benacre Broad.  This is a rapidly eroding coastline and the cliffs remodel themselves and slump down to the beach after storms. Arriving at Benacre Broad’s reedy shallows, we found our way onto the shifting sands on Covehithe Beach. We had lunch resting against the friendly trunk of a beached tree (no not a beech tree) – a feature of this particular bit of coast.  Simon had even created an assemblage of found objects to mark our picnic spot (see photo).

Simon gave some beachcombing tips and showed us examples of previous finds, including local amber and fossilised wood.  Heading south we set off along the tideline, with the task of finding one thing each to show the others at the Covehithe end of the walk.  Half way along Simon called us all together and showed us photographs of the wreck of a century-old 30′ wooden boat which was still somewhere hidden beneath our feet – it was like something out of the Detectorists! Who knows what lies buried beneath the sand and what might be revealed after the next storm or high tide.

At the end of the walk we showed each other our ‘finds’ and talked a little about what drew us to make our choices.  Before leaving, Simon gave each of us an Advice Sheet to further our own future explorations in Beachcombing country.  It was a thoroughly enjoyable day! Beach-combing can throw up all sorts of delights from ‘found’ poetry to driftwood sculptures.

Bring your sketchbook on 7 September and join artist, Kasia Posen, a little further down the coast at Walberswick for our penultimate celebrate creative walk.

There are only two weeks before entry to our Crow Writing competition closes and entries are flying in. But there is still time to be inspired by one or more of the crow family. Eight species* of crow breed in the British Isles – which one will you choose? Although all part of the same Corvid family, they are very different in character. Most are black or pied apart from the colourful, but shy, jay.

They are intelligent, adaptable birds, opportunists and collectors. Crows have been with us for thousands of years, birds of myth and omen, often associated with death and funerals.  We even have collective nouns for their gatherings: a murder of crows, a train of jackdaws, a scold of jays, a tiding of magpies, a parliament of rooks and an unkindness of ravens.

You cannot be unaware of them – their noisy chatter and scolding, the harsh croak that welcomes the dawn, the black tide of roosting rooks that inspired Mark Cocker’s Crow Country. It seems they touch something in all of us for our suggestion of a Crow themed art exhibition had an enthusiastic response. At the Ferini Art Gallery in Pakefield, artists share with us their response to crows. On Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays between 1 and 24 September the gallery will be showing a fascinating mixed exhibition of two and three-dimensional work inspired by crows under the title: A Murder of Crows. It will feature work by a wide range of East Anglian artists including Mark Ward, Ruth Wharrier, Kate Batchelor, Paul Lacey, Lucy Beevor, Sally James, Hatty Leith, Chris Mound and other Waveney & Blyth Arts members,

Make an early visit to the Gallery and find writing inspiration in the artworks. Still stuck for ideas? Join a writing workshop at the Gallery, led by Suffolk Poetry Society member Beth Soule, on Wednesday 6 September. Still a few places left and we are holding the competition open for poems written during this workshop.

Just a reminder: the writing competition is for poems of no more than 30 lines and flash fiction of no more than 100 words – all on the theme of crows. Open until 9am 12 September 2017 – please note 9am! We cannot acceot entries after this time. Cost: £3 per entry or £5 for two.

Details and competition rules elsewhere on this website.

*Carrion crow, hooded crow, chough, rook, magpie, jay, raven, jackdaw.

Following Beth Soule’s very successful Labyrinth writing workshop in July, participants share three more of their poems created on, or inspired by, the day.  Beth’s preparation for workshops and provision of supportive material is always appreciated and stimulates a surprising amount of work in a short day.

Join her in Pakefield on 6^th September to learn about the crow family in myth and life, explore the crow themed exhibition at the Ferini Art Gallery, and write crow inspired poetry (still a few places left). And don’t forget we are leaving the crow writing competition open so you just have time to submit an entry after joining Beth’s workshop (but entry to the competition isn’t conditional on attending the workshop or the exhibition).

See our Events pages for more on the workshop, art exhibition and competition.

Labyrinth Poems

 If only I could bottle 

 the sun warming my legs,

wind whispering in my ear,

the scent of cut grass.

 

A solitary shining face

looks up from the meadow,

brimful of gold.

 

Will it still show I love butter

if I place it under my chin?

 

We made daisy chains

threading pink and white heads

through slits in the stalks,

 

picked dandelion clocks,

fairy fluff

to blow in the breeze.

 

How many puffs would it take

to measure the years?

 

We hunted for charms,

the four leaf luck

of red and white clover,

 

whistled through grass

pressed tight between

willing thumbs.

 

If I close my eyes

I am transported back –

the powerful pull of place.

© Sue Wallace-Shaddad 2017

 

 Walking with the Hare:  The Walk

Come walk with me, my muse.

Sacred one at the dawn of Alban Eiler,

the goddess, Eostre, loves you.

At dusk on Alban Eluad

you are the last sheaf of corn.

I need your lightness.

Your discernment:  Your passion

leads to the magic of love, and I am lost.

Knowing how fragile and easily broken

my heart is, please walk with me.

Let’s leave the daisies and the hedgerow,

leave the field, the dolmen,

the lapwing’s nest, with eggs,

and the parsley and clover.

Caper and box with me, dear Corn spirit

of the two equinoxes, do not sit

in your Hare’s parliament circle,

travel with me, under glimmering moon.

Show me the way.

Forwards.  Dance.

The shell in my hand

supports my thumb.

I will not use it for rebuke,

to insult, nor for harm,

it is still. Quiet. Firm.

My memory of your wisdom is this shell.

Come walk beside me, please

don’t run so fast, keen-eyed friend

alert to nature’s callings,

the quiver of ears and twitch of nose

mirror my nervousness.

Run as from the folds of Boudicca’s dress,

show me Adraste’s victory.

Do I go on or do I let go?

You leap ahead. We twirl,

and dance together.

This journey is fun with you.

© Sue Benbow 2017

 

 Ariadne’s Thread

A thread,

I spun a thread for you

and as you plunged into the dark

I looped it round my heart

tethering you

to the light.

 

I felt each twitch and tug

as you trod deeper

into the labyrinth.

Each twist and tug

tore a little

from somewhere deep in me

 

but even worse were my imaginings

when, for a time, the thread went slack.

Were you lost?

Had I lost you?

What struggles were unfolding

far from the light,

what battles fought,

what wounding?

 

And then the steady, rhythmic

twist and tug

as you rewound the skein,

came back to me.

I thought that was the end

the happy end

 

but somewhere since

the thread between us has

unravelled,

you let it drop

and now I drift

untethered.

© Beth Soule 2017

 

A July day after rain. Tide ebbing along the Blyth Estuary. We are here at Suffolk Wildlife Trust’s Hen Reedbeds reserve in search of otters. It is seventeen years since this reserve was created as a haven for bitterns. We start at the Wolsey Bridge viewpoint looking out across the reedbeds,; four marsh harriers circling low; a hobby flashing behind across the heathy soil. Les Tarver, volunteer warden, explains just how special the site is, tells his own story about encountering a family of otters in broad daylight at the place where we are standing, (and shows us where the hairy legged mining bees are nesting in the car-park).

This is otter country. Secretly, stealthily, hunting across mudflats and through eel rich waters, the otter has adopted the Blyth Estuary. How do we know they are here? We will spend the morning in the company of Meg Amsden, who is recording signs of otter through footprints, slides, tunnels and spraints, and learn to read the landscape and find signs of otter.

First though, with Waveney & Blyth Arts focus on arts and landscape, we share readings about otters – Roger Deakin, writing in Waterlog about meeting an otter in the Waveney and Miriam Darlington, in Otter Country, recounting her countrywide search for the otter.

Meg explains the background to the otter surveys.

“I got up early one October morning two years ago to film the mist over the estuary, as the tide was going out.  Seagulls and crows were making a din. I ignored them at first as I struggled in vain to capture the mist, then gave up and turned the camera, still running, towards the birds. Into frame, running from pool to pool, submerging, fishing, swimming, loping across the mud, came an otter. I watched it till it disappeared into the river. It felt like a moment outside time, like a gift, a message that had to be listened to. I sent the two and a half minute film to a friend who passed it on to Richard Woolnough, a local naturalist, who was waiting for the incentive to start a Blyth Valley otter survey group. Within 10 days we met up for the first time, and have continued to meet; to learn how to identify, collect, clean and analyse otter spraint, to look for other evidence of their presence, and to try to extrapolate from our research how they live.”

Walking through the reedbed towards the Wolsey Bridge we share otter stories. Around half the group have seen otters in the wild and later in the morning Meg records people’s memories and observations. But first, we straggle across the road and up onto the estuary wall.

Beneath us the mud glowers under a dull sky; redshank and curlew, pacing out on the receding water, whistle and call into the wind. We look at the doodlings of the early morning’s visitors – waders picking their way in search of food, a fox crossing from a tufted island towards the safety of land, and then the unmistakeable five toed trail of the otter, with an incised line where its tail has caught the mud. Here Meg points out a regular crossing point, up from the estuary, over the wall and down into the reedbeds and shallow pools behind us.

We walk immersed, in the sights and smells of the estuary, to a known otter crossing and here we find fresh spraint. Meg explains the intricacies of the otter’s diet and digestive system leading to these characteristic otter droppings, once smelled, never forgotten. It has been likened to jasmine tea. We read Roger Deakin’s account of his morning on an animal tracking session where he delighted in the ritual of handing round the otter ‘poo’ and wondered what an otter would think of forty humans “queuing to lie full-length on the bank and sniff small dollops of poo, making appreciative sounds.”

Meg passes round otter spraint in a magnifying jar so we can appreciate the exquisite small bones which are key to an understanding of otter diet. Walking onto the far curve of the estuary wall we look for further otter signs before back tracking to the road and a clear tunnel from the reeds which reveals the best otter spraint of the day.

We end the morning with a cup of tea and a stack of field guides, sharing thoughts about otters.

Written by Melinda Appleby & Meg Amsden

 

Suffolk Otter Group https://suffolkotters.wordpress.com/

Meg Amsden’s otter film: http://www.nutmegpuppet.co.uk/news/october-otter-2/

 

Otter books we read from:

The Otters’ Tale Simon Cooper Harper Collins 2017

Otter Country Miriam Darlington Granta 2012

Waterlog Roger Deakin Chatto & Windus 1999

 

The first walk of the Waveney & Blyth Arts 2017 summer season took place on 9 July around Redisham, near Beccles. Inspired by a found pamphlet of poems by girls in the Land Army, walk organiser Netta Swallow devised an afternoon to celebrate the role of the Land Army and to hear some of these poems. Coinciding with the open gardens at Redisham Hall, the walk followed field paths from the Hall to the tiny church of St Peters, Suffolk’s smallest.

The walk was led by Ivan Crane and, on the way, we heard from historian Chris Reeve, who explored themes about the land, including tales of farming during the war, based on the writings of Adrian Bell, and information about the conscientious objectors who were employed to work the land in this part of Suffolk.

Once at the Church of St Peters, the audience heard tales of Land Girls and their poetry, the Bloomsbury Set and Adrian Bell and how there were links between them.  Oonagh Segrave-Daly read a very moving poem, “Let there be light” by Francis Heneage Burkitt, who was inspired to write the poem after reading an article about the plight of children in occupied Europe during WW2.  Oonagh also read “Hedge Cutting” by Land Girl Alice Coates, a thoughtful poem about her concern for the environment.

The highlight of the afternoon was a reading from Angela Ottaway (pitctured) who is now 92 years old but was first based in the Land Army at a farm on Romney Marsh.  It was not a good experience as she was employed by a woman who ran the farm and was a bully. Abusive towards Angela, she one night locked her out, leaving Angela to sleep in the barn.  Angela became ill working there and eventually managed to secure a transfer to horticulture which she enjoyed very much.  She is still a keen gardener today and involves herself in a handbell ringing group, the local museum team of volunteers and the local church.  Her mother was in the Timber Corps in WW1.

Angela read the poem “War, which has brought to others fear” by Hebe Jerrold, Women’s Timber Corps.

Then back for tea at the beautiful grounds of Redisham Hall.

Many thanks to Netta, Ivan and Chris for organising and informing us, to Oonagh for reading and, of course, to Angela for joining us to share the poetry reading and her memories of the Land Army.

More memories of the Land Army can be found on a website being developed by Cherish Watton. She intends it to become the national online hub for information on the Land Girls and Lumber Jills – sharing original documents, magazines, photos and videos:

www.womenslandarmy.co.uk,

 

Participants on July’s Labyrinth writing workshop, led by Beth Soule of Suffolk Poetry Society, have kindly agreed to share their poems written on the day. Thank you to everyone who came on the workshop and Beth for her creative leadership.

We feature three of the poems below. Look out for more later in the summer.

Walking the Labyrinth

 Walking the labyrinth with my fingers, sightless,

is difficult

Years of use have battered the nerves,

worn down the skin, made fingertips clumsy.

 

I think of Africans who feel the path in the dark

with their feet

They do not need a torch

Their feet, bare and sensitive,

notice small differences in terrain.

 

Long years of wearing shoes

and walking hard pavements

have worn away this sensitivity

Long years of exposure to urban noise

deadens the ears to quiet sounds

of the night

 

Long years of street illumination

make people fearful of the dark

unable or unwilling to see their way

unlit after nightfall.

 

Not able to see, not able to feel the path,

Are we the losers?

© Rosemary Jones 2017

 

Field Walk

Mind hurries with scurrying insects

bends with wind-blown grass

weaves between leaf, stem, petal

stretches with reaching boughs

 

feet tread uneven ground

feel the shifting balance

sense the change from sun-crisped grass

to the soft crumbling of mole-earth

 

skin feels the brittle scratch of dried stems

the tickle and twitch of flying beasts

the easing heat of afternoon

the breeze breath

 

heart beats with the pace of walking

lifts with the wind

slows to the gentle hum of bees

opens to the bright of buttercup gold.

© Beth Soule 2017

 

The Labyrinth’s Question

What shall I do tomorrow?

The Resolution

Go home, little girl, at dawn,

with your shell and your flaxen hair.

Go home to your grandmother,

ask her.  She knows, understands what it is you seek.

She knows your heart but does not bend with age.

You can.

This is the Wisdom of Hare.

Go home, do not stay away.

Do not stay away, with a shell in your hand,

a song in your heart – but no hearth.

Go home.

Sit with her, hold her hand,

buy her milk and fill her days

with cake and laughter.

When it gets hard and your grandmother

shivers and moans, feel the shell

in your hand, remember

the days on the sea and

the hours on the beach, and do not call me

Hare.

The hedgerow is not for you little girl

Go home and hug your grandmother.

© Sue Benbow – 2017

 

WRITING THE LABYRINTH             Wed.19^th July, 2017

Poetry Workshop with Beth Soule

 One of Waveney & Blyth Arts first workshops of the season was the writing workshop led by Beth Soule on the Thornham estate near Eye. Back in June, with the help of the Thornham Walks volunteers, we had created a labyrinth in a grass meadow.

The day is best summed up by one of the participants – Sue Benbow – and a selection of writings will be shared in the next post.

“We all met at Thornham Walks, near Diss, to be greeted with cups of tea and a warm welcome from Beth.  The classroom was light and airy, with plenty of table-top writing space for everyone.

Beth introduced what the day would be about, and we began to go through a marvelous handout-booklet, which she had prepared for us.  We discussed the history and purpose of labyrinths; the story behind the rediscovery of labyrinths by Lauren Artress; and guidelines for walking labyrinths.  We then visited the Legends of the Labyrinth through Greek myth.  Beth bought to life the story of King Minos and Daedalus, the Minotaur, Pasiphae and Theseus, and Ariadne and the golden thread with a clear and easy-to-follow ‘grid of characters’ and story-telling skills!  Participants were given the choice to write a piece of prose, or poetry, about one of the characters from the story which we read aloud later.

Examples of prayers, blessings and spells – collected and compiled in the handout booklet were read read aloud to inspire us followed by some of Beth’s poetry about The Labyrinth and Jorge Luis Borges poem of the same name. Participants were invited to write their own prayer, blessing or spell.

After a short break, and more tea, we went outside and walked the labyrinth. Followed by writing ‘what came out of the labyrinth?’ poems.

Beth presented some ‘finger labyrinths’ which participants chose to work with, according to personal preference.  We were introduced to the concept of chakras and corresponding colours and journeys, on the labyrinth.

In order to ‘Write into the Labyrinth’ participants were asked to choose from a selection of visual aids and interesting artefacts, one each of the following:

a guide companion; a tool or talisman; a purpose for walking the labyrinth.  We were given a ‘Labyrinth Map’ to write on and asked to write a poem or short story describing the journey into the labyrinth, with the chosen companion and tool chosen. This was challenging, but also very stimulating.  The use of visual and artefact stimuli was enthusiastically welcomed, and used, by participants – a brilliant activity.

The ‘read aloud’ session, thirty minutes later, was testament to the quality of Beth’s leadership and teaching, as a high calibre of words and work was produced.

The whole day was interesting, interactive, creatively stimulating, well planned and organized and expertly led, and I thoroughly enjoyed discovering the inner and outer journeys of the Thornham Labyrinth, the writing which emerged, and the sharing.  Brilliant.

It was a wonderful day and a marvellous workshop.  Thank you”.

Sue Benbow   25^th July, 2017