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 6th 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