photo of Piel Island Reflections by Geraldine Green (copyright)
"WRITERS ON THE SHORE"
(with thanks to The Doors, 'Riders on the Storm')
photo by Jane Byle (copyright)
Walney First Draft, Jane Byle
Wander along Walney's
coastal path, inhale the sea, taste its salty air -
refresh your creative
soul.
Forage for this
island's heart beating with the waves - its circulation replenished by the
tides...
pulsating with colour
even on this grey day.
Peer into grasses,
peppered with scarlet pimpernel, yellow horned poppy, red clover, viola...
Turn to see cattle
quietly grazing, calves lying amongst blue blur of viper's bugloss.
Gulls noisy overhead,
circling.
Grey seals' noses bob
above the waves.
Heavy necklace of eider
ducks fringe the water's edge.
Hills confident on the
horizon melt into cloudy skies. Turbines hesitant, waiting for wind as it
gently stirs the marram grass and nudges sailing boats further out to sea.
This island will enter
your heart and draw you back for more.
photo by Jane Byle (copyright)
On Walney Island
Salt,
sharp on the tongue and a wind more March than June
flowers
a living mosaic beneath our feet:
Sea
Century, Scarlet Pimpernel,
Almeria Maritime, Sea Thrift’s Latin name
Dovesfoot
Cranes Bill
Storks
Bill- though I hear Snarks Bill
Sea
Campion translates as Silene Maritime.
These
names are told to us by our guide.
Seals,
heads sea–soaked, glistening
bob
out of the water
watching
us, watching them, watching us
have
you seen seals dancing?
sea
thrift does, jives among pebbles in lichen coats
an oyster catcher scoots along the
shingle
beak and feet beautifully colour
co-ordinated
And
the sea; an ever present symphony of greys and greens
Maggie
Scott
photo by Jane Byle (copyright)
Walney Island
I didn’t see the wind blowing
between land and sea;
I didn’t see the piping of
oystercatchers
Nor what disturbed them;
I didn’t see the barnacles
forming reefs under the wind farm
Nor where the meadow pipit
landed with the worm in its beak.
I saw the round of Fairfield
Reflected in the hip bone,
hook bone, of a cow;
I saw the square of castle,
shipworks and discarded blocks of concrete
And how the blocks were the
broken spine of a dinosaur
With vipers bugloss growing
in them;
I saw maps of imaginary
continents in bright orange lichen on dark rocks.
© Sue Venfield June 2017
photo by Jane Byle (copyright)
Walney revisited
My emotions
ebb and flow along Walney’s paths,
skirted by a
calming sea. I taste the salted air;
nourishing
my soul, setting free my cares.
This
island’s heart beats with the waves; its
circulation
replenished by loyal tides.
Land pulses colour,
even on grey days.
Grasses,
peppered with scarlet pimpernel, mingle
with yellow
horned poppy, red clover, viola…
pyramidal
orchids and six-spot burnet moth.
Cattle
quietly graze. Calves lie amid blue blaze
of viper’s
bugloss, vibrant with bees
and butterflies
feasting on flowers.
Gulls
circle, screeching overhead, whilst
oystercatchers
elegantly stalk the sands,
seeking
mollusc treasure amongst empty shells.
Heavy
necklace of eider ducks fringe the water’s edge.
‘Ooh, ooh!’ they
cry - exclamations in
heated conversation,
as I wander by.
Grey seals’
noses bob above waves like synchronised
swimmers
floating on their backs, then disappear.
I wait,
eager for more aquatic antics.
Hills,
confident on the horizon, melt into
cloudy skies
and shadows of a shipyard. Turbines
hesitant,
wait for wind’s power to drive them on.
Gentle
breeze stirs marram grass and nudges
sailing
boats further out to sea. Lone lighthouse,
maintaining
its duty, no longer needs a keeper.
Walney beams
hidden light, lifts my mood, clutching
me to its
core. Senses enriched, I’m drawn back
on a
rip-tide of memories to its unique shores.
©Jane Byle June 2017
Two of the poems we explored, while at Cumbria Wildlife Trust's South Walney Nature Reserve, and two of the writing prompts:
Seals at High Island by Richard Murphy
The calamity of seals
begins with jaws.
Born in caverns that
reverberate
With endless malice of the
sea’s tongue
Clacking on shingle, they
learn to bark back
In fear and sadness and
celebration.
The ocean’s mouth opens
forty feet wide
And closes on a morsel of
their rock.
Swayed by the thrust and
backfall of the tide,
A dappled grey bull and a
brindled cow
Copulate in the green water
of a cove.
I watch from a cliff-top,
trying not to move.
Sometimes they sink and merge
into black shoals;
Then rise for air, his
muzzle on her neck,
Their winged feet
intertwined as a fishtail.
She opens her fierce mouth
like a scarlet flower
Full of white seeds; she
holds it open long
At the sunburst in the
music of their loving;
And cries a little. But I
must remember
How far their feelings are
from mine marooned.
If there are tears at this
holy ceremony
Theirs are caused by brine
and mine by breeze.
When the great bull
withdraws his rod, it glows
Like a carnelian candle set
in jade.
The cow ripples ashore to
feed her calf;
While an old rival, eyeing
the deed with hate,
Swims to attack the tired
triumphant god.
They rear their heads above
the boiling surf,
Their terrible jaws open,
jetting blood.
At nightfall they haul out,
and mourn the drowned,
Playing to the sea sadly
their last quartet,
An improvised requiem that
ravishes
Reason, while ripping scale
up like a net:
Brings pity trembling down
the rocky spine
Of headlands, till the
bitter ocean’s tongue
Swells in their cove, and
smothers their sweet song.
Reprinted from Richard Murphy: Collected Poems
with permission of Wake Forest University Press. Copyright © 2001 Richard
Murphy. All rights reserved.
Writing Prompt: Select 5-6
images/phrases/words and create a word necklace using them. Please acknowledge
poet and poem if you keep them in your finished poem. Thanks. Geraldine Green
4.6.2017
Piel Castle, photo by Geraldine Green (copyright)
An extract from Dunstanburgh
Katrina Porteous
There is a
castle by the sea
That no road
leads to any more -
On the height
of a cliff, the farthest edge
of land, a
wind-rucked field;a wall
And
gatehouse, ruled across the sky;
A city, seen
from miles away;
A promise,
pledged in tall stone towers
That, more
than battle, passing years,
Winter on
winter of wind and rain,
Have battered
down to a great ruin;
There's a secret as old
As the
stones to unlock:
There's a riddle, a mystery
Trapped in the rock,
In the rock,
In the rock,
In the rock,
In the rock,
In the rock.
And nobody
visiting listens or stays
Long enough
to tell that the noise
Of the sea on
the cliff-face does not cease,
Or to say
when the swallows and gulls that roost
In its loud,
rocky hollows are suddenly gone
To the tug of
winter; and nobody sees
How, in its
hours of solitude,
The ruin is
endlessly reclaimed:
Rift of rock,
Buckle.
Twist.
Black scar,
Wrench, ruck.
Cold stone
Crust, crack:
Rift of rock,
Buckle.
Twist.
Black scar,
Wrench, ruck.
Cold stone
Crust,
Crack!
Grey-green lichen,
Brittle, prickly,
Boils and blisters,
Crusty, crackly
Moon-craters,
Pale and warty,
Witches fingers,
Scabbed and scaly.
Grey-green lichen,
Brittle, prickly,
Boils and blisters,
Crusty, crackly
Moon-craters,
Pale and warty,
Witches fingers,
Scabbed and scaly.
http://www.diamondtwig.co.uk/poems/dunstanburgh.html
Writing Prompt: View to Piel Island: Read ‘An Extract from Dunstanburgh by Katrina
Porteous. Prompt: Try writing your
notes in a similar form to Katrina Porteous. Use repetition, use the whole
white space of the page, have some fun playing with that space! And also the
SOUNDS of the word…. What does a mussel shell sound like? What does a rock
sound like? What colour is the sound of the wind? What does it feel like to
walk into the sea?
photo by Geraldine Green (copyright)
FLORA AND FAUNA
And the seals and the seals and heart's ease and forests of viper's bugloss and always the sea running through our veins and the eider ducks awwww calls of surprising gossip in the marketplace and meadow pipits' song trailing down in a fluteful melody from sky
friends of common mouse-ear, dove's foot cranesbill, sea centaury, sea campion/silene maritima, thrifts/armarium maritima,, pink rest harrow to rest on and wild thyme to dream on ... and the sound of the sea racing back from the bay...
by Geraldine Green (copyright) South Walney 25.6.2017
Irish Sea, Walney, photo by Geraldine Green (copyright)
Many thanks for your kind comment, Jane (Byle)
This was a most enjoyable workshop. Thank you Geraldine.
It was great uncovering some of the hidden gems on South Walney Nature Reserve - an inspiring and peaceful place.
Thanks too, to our knowledgeable guide who identified the flora and fauna on the Island.
A great day.
J. Byle
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