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Friday 28 March 2014

Hepworth

This is the poem I got from my visit to the Hepworth Gallery, oh months ago now.  I read it to the group, and haven't looked at it since, so all of the things we raised remain pertinent.  I think this link to the sculpture works: 



Barbara Hepworth’s ‘Totem’, at the Hepworth Gallery, Wakefield

A wind scallywags the leaves as I’m crossing the bridge
     to a place I should have been before.  In an
artist’s air, made up of sheaves and of back-beams casting
     a radial evanescence, the scale of
it prefigures, prepares, in some respects implicates.

     In a hiding way, it haunches its shoulders
at being indoors and not in necessary light.
     Its un-whiskered white is a memory of
the whites in your mind: the lamina of towns; Tawny
     Owls as they land, with something of a halo
about the ruff; when carcases have gone and a bone
     will come to rest on another bone; or when
limestone breaks surfaces as a forward spit of foam.

     The river shuffles its surface lozenges,
each one a shadow on its upstream side, slate-silver
     on the down.  A flush of Mallards, feeding and
swimming in defining casts, laughs degenerately
     as I blink in the sun; a bird wheezes in
the reeds on the other bank; and catenary trees
     make their arches.  In its reaches, the river
is a field of imperfections, fading out of view,
     gallivanting, finagling, flippant in the
face of everything that’s happened, though it’s such a thought.

     I think of Ulm, that morning at the cafĂ©
just before eleven when the bells rang.  In the light
     as it was that day the stone of the church had
a cumulus plasticity of being, all of
     air and a striving to be air: the steeple’s
leggy improvising around solidity, the
     gateways where those who were to enter and leave
could only be small, the symphony for organ played
     by fingers you only assume.  At the end
we hied-it through the relic streets but stopped, with nothing
    we could say, at the synagogue, which is new.

Very little is moving this curt November night.
     The paving is plumped like the winter buttons
they fasten on their children’s coats, sleepers hardly stir
     except in the pretence that this is their sleep,
and, outside, a something-bundle forms a heap, and there’s
     another, and another, possibly ten,
each one beneath a paper sheet.  The Waggoner claws
     them aside, and lifts in a single movement.
The cart tolerates its motion; a covey of heads
     jounces on the wood and on the other meat. 


Richard Dillon

Monday 24 March 2014

'First Tuesday' Open Meeting 1st April 2-4 pm

'First Tuesday' Open Meeting 1st April 2-4 pm

Liz Hickman
Fooling Around



Chesterfield Library


'First  Tuesday' Meetings are held every month except August and are suitable for anyone  who is interested in discussing and undertaking practical exercises in creative writing - prose or poetry


They are held in the Meeting Room Lower Ground Floor - Next to 'Browser' Cafe 


No booking necessary- just turn up

Thursday 13 March 2014

Dorothy Cooke play 'Cheerleaders'

'Cheerleaders' by Dorothy Cooke will be performed by 'The Reformed Players' at the United Reform Church, Sherwood, Nottingham on 10,11,12 April.
(Cheerleaders was first produced by Dronfield Players in 2005)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Sherwood United Reformed Church


1 Edwards Lane, Sherwood, Nottingham, NG5 3AA
just off Mansfield Road behind the Sherwood Manor.
Phone:0115 962 2830



Tuesday 11 March 2014

I Remember Where I Was...


When war was declared
we were waiting for it:
Auntie Clarrie’s living room,
cousins and grown-ups round the wireless.
We’d been waiting a long time,
speculation and rumour.
Hitler’s tanks were made of cardboard.

On a country walk with cousins
Grandad told us if it came
they’d call it a World War;
Cynthia said it could be European.
Sure enough it came,
but through no sudden surprise attack,
Just a long slow slithering into war.

When Holland was invaded –
along with Belgium, Luxembourg –
I went with mum to a small-room,
one-woman hairdresser where
they spoke about it quietly.
It sounded serious but to me
just another step of many.

When Sicily was invaded
I heard about it from women
in the queue for buns and sausage.
We’d been sent that Saturday morning,
knowing there’d be something special.
Sicily wasn’t so special though.
Not Italy, then?” “No, Sicily.”

When D-day landings hit the beaches
our geography teacher chalked
the Cherbourg peninsula on the blackboard,
drew arrows to suggest
which way the 2nd Front would go.
We’d waited for that day, too –
never doubted which way it would go.

When victory came in Europe
we wondered, was tomorrow
the promised day off work?
We decided yes and stayed home.
No memories of bells, dancing in the streets,
but soon after came V.J. Day
which I spent playing cricket in the sun.




Stuart Randall

This poem is from Stuart Randall's latest collection "Growing Up in Wartime" and he still has a few copies at £5 (10% goes to WarChild). Ring Stuart on 01246 270533.

Monday 10 March 2014

Youlgrave's Got Talent

Youlgrave are having a talent afternoon on 
Sunday March 16th from 3pm. 

A fun afternoon for all in the Village Hall. 


Entries are welcome in every category ie solo song, duet or group,recitation of poem, story etc, music, and ‘surprise’, plus under 13’s! Entries cost £1 which gets you on stage and to see rest of show.For the audience, a door-charge will include refreshments.

Proceeds go to the Youlgrave Wildlife Garden. 

If interested, please contact:
 Liz on 01629636845 or Maggie 01629636189.

'First Tuesday' Open Meeting 1st April

'First Tuesday' Open Meeting 1st April 2-4 pm

Liz Hickman
Fooling Around



Chesterfield Library


'First  Tuesday' Meetings are held every month except August and are suitable for anyone  who is interested in discussing and undertaking practical exercises in creative writing - prose or poetry


They are held in the Meeting Room Lower Ground Floor - Next to 'Browser' Cafe 


No booking necessary- just turn up