Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Passing Through, Indigo Dreams 2018


"I .... am always glad
to touch the living rock again" (John Muir)


Enjoying a beach comb,  Merlin's Cave, Tintagel beach Cornwall photo by Geoff Green 2007

Stone Renga

What do I know of stones?
Flat, mud-grey ones

on Foulney Island. Layer upon layer
heaped up for feet to scramble and slide on.

What do I know of stones?
Those at Aldingham, dark grey

round as a bird’s egg
shot through with milky quartz

in circles and crosses that lie
warm and smooth in my palm.

What do I know of stones?
Limestone dragons on Birkrigg

dinosaur-shapes glint white
fissures on ancient pavements.

What do I know of stones, their secret
of fossils: ammonites, ferns, feathers

spiralled, whorled worlds imprinted within them
ready  to take flight

when their old stone-bodies
crack open.


Delighted to have this poem in Stone Renga  an anthology written, produced and birthed by a love of stones, ed. Alan Berecka and Tom Murphy, Tale Feathers Press, Santa Fe, New Mexico




south Walney nature reserve (photo by Geraldine Green copyright)


"Geraldine Green’s poems are alert to landscape, seasons, rootedness that draws from deep aquifers of language, change that flits like cloud shadows across the page. Some seemed light as thistle heads but proved enduringly strong, rich with seed. As I read, I almost expected goldfinches to feed alongside me with their otherworldly attentiveness. But that attentiveness was all hers."
Graham Mort




Burns Beck Moss 16.9.2017 (photo by Geraldine Green copyright)

I recall our walk in Burns Beck Moss,

the softness of ground, the softness of feet, the hush of bodies, the quiet chat and the moss cushioning us, our feet, our chat, our bodies, our thoughts, the frogs’ stretched balletic legs, their crouched sanctuary among the sphagnum, speeding away from boots and trainers, our feet on cushioned silence, crushing their territory.

Geraldine Green, Passing Through, pub, Indigo Dreams 2018


South Walney Nature Reserve, photo by Geraldine Green copyright

At home on the Bay

Its light, its silver, its mud-tanged-tangle-tongued
salt-licked presence and the birds, dunlins, perhaps,
or knot?

too far out for us to catch what they were
without binocs. How they swoop and mimic
the murmurations of starlings, but

are not, these wide-winged verses of song
these wing-spread low-tide flit-flight light-tilted
blown along froth

of feather-mimicked pebbles and foam
interpretations of mud and sky
these birds that rise and fall with the incoming tide

this late afternoon beneath the crescent moon
that rises above shavings of licked-clean shells
and bones.

Geraldine Green (copyright Passing Through pub. Indigo Dreams 2018)


Geraldine at Aldingham, photo by Geoff Green copyright

Whaup

"I take my gladness in the… sound of the curlew instead of the laughter of men”

- ‘The Seafarer’ Anon. Anglo-Saxon poet

In the absence of curlew I must attempt
to call it down, to call it back to fell and shore
call it back to sing the moor alive once more.

In the absence of curlew clouds must learn
to bring back spring, to lay cloud eggs on upland soil
to curve cloud bodies into curlew-grace

into speckled feathers that mimic mica-sand and
mottled stones, the guarding of eggs, slow beating
of wing, curved-down bill that probes the earth

for worms, the shore for crabs, its long wail
the cry of the dead waiting to be re-born.
I must again recall the great whaup’s warning

the dead’s return from dreaming. Listen
to what the night is saying through the piercing
cry of cur leee, of cur-lee.

pub. in Curlew Calling anthology, ed. Karen Lloyd
Geraldine Green (copyright Passing Through IDP 2018)


Thank you Dawn Bauling, co-editor of  Indigo Dreams Pubs. for your kind words:


Passing Through, by Geraldine Green


It is indeed a love letter to Cumbria - like walking through its parts with a lyrical David Attenborough - nothing gets missed, all the history, all the beauty, all the unpredictable wonder of it - from the way the waves lap on Coniston to the history in the old stones on Foulney Island, its minutiae and its grandeur. You want to wander with Geraldine and see with her eyes, her real eyes and her mind's eye. Forget the tourist information guides - if you want to know what the lakes and fells are all about read this. 


Looking forward to reading from Passing Through, to be published in 2018 by Indigo Dreams  at a venue near you! 

Geraldine Green 15.10.2017



me, reading in nature, Eycott Hill, 22.7.2017, on the 'Write in Nature' outdoor creative writing workshop I led for Cumbria Wildlife Trust, photo by Jane Moss-Luffram (copyright)


"I .... am always glad

to touch the living rock again

and dip my hand in the high mountain sky"


(Wolf, Unpublished Journals, 221)"

taken from website: