On the Drover’s Road

Autumn came to Cardiff this week with brisk winds and beautiful colors. The season is changing: scarves are coming out, kettles are boiling longer and more often. It is time to say goodbye to summer.

I know I speak for Emma when I say that our summer was quite a meaningful one. We ran our first workshop series together which introduced us to some wonderful people and exciting words. Just before our last session I experienced a death in my family which – living thousands of miles from where I grew up – left me feeling down and detached. I realized quickly that the Ciliau was a place where I could feel nourished and at ease, where I could write myself and enjoy the landscape I now call my home. So, despite the new challenges in my life, Emma and I decided to stay the course and run our last workshop together on time. I’m so happy we did.

This last session, On the Drover’s Road, focused on publication and performance. To me there are a couple of really key elements to publication: finding your true voice, translating your message successfully to an audience, and editing. So, in the morning I discussed these things with those who came along. Together we read work from clare e. potter and Richard Gwyn and wrote about observations and emotional experiences. It was lovely.

In the afternoon, Emma introduced us to some reading techniques and set up a performance promenade by the river. It was glorious! We practiced reading in different voices and with different rhythms. We found a place where the poems we were given could stand out. We discovered new poets. The poem I performed was called ‘I came back from Iceland’ by Sheena Pugh. I loved it and am excited to read more of her work.

As always though the best part of any workshop is listening to those who come along. The pieces produced in this session were particularly special. Three of the participants have been kind enough to share some of the poems they wrote throughout the day. Please enjoy these below:

 

I am the beach

I am the beach, an edge.
Pledge pops up, like a bad TV ad,
but what can I pledge?
Not to see you on another day
or to be here come what may.
Water laps at certainty
casts wet shadows that
intimate I might wash away.
Perhaps not straight away.
The sole of a Wellington boot
black, twisted, cracked
wedged in by a constellation of sticks
bound about by grasses, docks,
buttercups and quartzes

suggests a certain shelf life.

Amanda Tress

 

Untitled

We live in the dart and shimmer
of a shoal,
As tiny and tight-knit as type
on a page,
Making patterns repeated
in shadow on the river floor,
Then breaking away,
Words in a poem that falls
apart as soon as it is made.

We hug the shallows,
Far from the real business
of the river’s roaring core,
Chasing each other through
these quiet warm spaces,
Our pale infant bodies
a scattering of ideas
across a bright page.

Fry, melt, spawn,
No name properly describes
our alert presence on the
river’s edge,
Our assiduous patrol
of its shallows.
We are a subtext, a tiny detail,
The flicker of a thought lost among
big ideas.

Helena Attlee

 

Valentine’s Day

It was Valentine’s Day
not that it meant much
not to him –
we had ACDC and heavy metal
in common.
I’d pursued him after the concert –
blond, hunky, denim and leather clad –
and I got him!

I’d watched interminable hours of
American Superbowl with him,
which I’d slept through mostly, the
night before.
I thought he was gorgeous, sexy
my ideal man
and he wanted me!

I visited him in sick bay –
a broken ankle? Or was it his wrist?
To give him my Valentine’s card.
There he finished with me.

Karen Roberts

 

Both Emma and I feel so privileged to have spent our summer with such kind, supportive, passionate, and interesting people. Thank you to all who shared your thoughts and words with us.

We are currently finalizing plans for our winter series which will be advertised shortly. There will be strong tea, homemade cakes, roaring fires, and of course, plenty of writing. In the meantime, please enjoy a selection of photos below from our last summer workshop – On the Drover’s Road.

If you would like more information or are interested in coming along to any of our future workshops please email landscapewriting@gmail.com. See you in the winter!

IMG_6236 IMG_6245 IMG_6256 IMG_6259 IMG_6262 IMG_6287

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Lovely stuff from you and the participants, as ever (even if I do say so myself hah!) It brought back some lovely memories of the day.

    The colours in these photographs are incredible, so green and lush! I love the orangey shades of the second one down as well.

  2. booketta says:

    Lovely! I struggle with poetry preferring to write narrative. Great post and photos. I certainly would be interested 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s