20 March 2020. The members of the Writers Group at Art Angel are determined that nothing will stop us from writing. We are very grateful to everyone at Art Angel for their help in keeping some things feeling normal. As you will see, we have been able to continue putting some of our thoughts and feelings into words. Normally, on a Friday afternoon, John gives us prompts and suggests we might try to write prose or a poem on a particular topic. It must sometimes seem like herding cats. Generally, each of us is inspired to head off in our own direction, seemingly regardless. But we do listen really, thriving on this special time where we are guided by John and then enjoy hearing our contributions from around the table. The plan so far is that the pieces of writing will be posted a few at a time here overnight on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. It so happens this week that we have mostly written poems. Some of them are best read aloud. Try it! The topic was ‘Hope’.
Art Angel by Rivers
My human-shaped echo
core reverberating; endless
loops of wrong-ness.
Twisted Nature in the eyes of a world
and it’s healers.
Then – a rock
A pocket to air wounds
fuse shattered tectonic plates
into safety and love.
How frustratingly rare
Supposed Confidence (Perhaps) by Barry
Supposed Confidence (Perhaps).
I’m confident I think we’ll maybe conquer.
In these times of murky futures, filtered blue.
I’m wishing with a hearty dose of patience.
That these months will sail by, never missing you.
As we’re feeling that we’ve never really noticed.
That the days we’ve spent our lives in thankless bliss.
So now measures that we take, in this prudent social break.
Means we’ll never take for granted what we miss.
So our desire that when this fuss is over.
When we’ll live the rest with ever mindful grace.
Perhaps we’ll heed the test, having loved and lost the best.
For human kindness, tranquil being, face to face.
Check List by Kathy
The sun has risen: right on time.
Coffee steaming in the mug ✔
Cool air, breathe deeply: haaahh
Blackbird bustles busily in the ivy— yeah!
The cat has shit near the old rosebush….yes…..again….
A neighbour’s radio, faint, over the air
I stand still and face the sun….
Aye….that’s alright wi’ me.
“WHO launches global mega trial of the four most promising coronavirus treatments”
Spring by Peter Marshall
Rosehip remains upon the rambling bush,
shriveled seeds in soil, gradual warmth awaits.
Blackbird uses beak, breaks morsel to mush.
Gaggle of geese glide, noise reverberates.
Hazy heaps of cloud upon horizon far,
bare big enough to view of blue sky mar.
Crocus colours show, crinkled shriveled head,
whilst daffodils delight and glow instead.
Hours of light longer, linger to our joy,
disrupting darkness, distant stars its toy.
Pink of sun pervades, pleasant morning viewed,
squirrel on stone wall, stash to be renewed.
Blaze of bronze enfolds, beckons lazy dusk.
Sun short while surrenders, new glories bring.
Pollen permeates, atmospheric musk.
All so we can share sensual bounty of spring.
Peter Marshall 2020 03 23