AWOL Responses Week #11 29 05 2020
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This week’s exercise was a bit different. Here’s a weblink for the Science Museum Group search page:
https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/search/images
If you follow it then type in a word to search for (try ‘space’ – you’ll find images for everything from a child’s game to a space toilet). You can choose any word you like, in fact, you might choose two or more search words and link these through the images they produce. If you need a hand thinking of things to search for, here are a few:
Time
Dundee
Mountain
Bird
Art
Sculpture
Music
Sea
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A photograph, of people waiting to take a photograph by Jodi Glass
A photograph, of people waiting to take a photograph
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A crowd, all holding cameras, waiting for the King.
Everyone brought their cameras, to remember the day
the young and the old, mingling on the pavement
waiting their turn, the street over, just had theirs,
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excitement not yet shown, for waiting is another emotion.
Gripping tight so not to drop; memory keepers.
Ready to develop in dark rooms;
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and while they wait, I, a journalist from the Daily Herald
looking for a by-line, on a unique day.
I took my chance, all in the hope it doesn’t get spiked;
and now this photo sits in a Bradford museum.
Jodi Glass
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Chestnut Tapestry by Lotty
Chestnut Tapestry
Recently I have taken to unpacking the chestnut fabric of the tapestry of my life, trying to figure out when I started feeling incomplete and not sure if I belonged in my size 33 feet; and always it appears to lead me back to when I was fourteen. I began to put on a boy-crazy mask to hide who I really wanted to be for almost a decade. I put on a spectacular performance eventually even convincing myself that this was the true soul; that it must be home.
But deep inside I was mixed up, unhappy, my personality turning bitter-cold. In all honesty I was Alone. It felt like I was an imposter. I was living in someone else’s flesh and bone.
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But then my early twenties came along. I started to think that this masquerade show couldn’t go on. along the lines of The Script that I spoke. Lines meaning less and tasting frivolous and stale. So gradually I began to strip and shed the overlay of sensitive skin as I realised what I felt wasn’t a sin, because long ago I had chucked the idea of religion into the bin, setting it alight, because I was tired of putting on a front – the good Catholic girl was just a stunt.
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Now, these last few years, I have embraced who I am; for doing this I am giving myself a great deal of praise, while wondering what lies at the end of another end of this chestnut tapestry of my recent life.
Lotty
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Guilt Trip by Barry
Guilt Trip
Occupational, situational.
Button skills learned for the soul.
Rational satchel and match making batch all.
Within the therapist’s goal.
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Work for the prison in which there’s the vision.
Of rehab and cleansing the wrong.
Steam pressing sheets, locked away from the streets
As the prisoner works to the song.
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Of chain gangs and tilling the soil for unwilling.
Repentance and time stolen still.
For cracks of the whip and the punishment ship
To flatten and weaken the will.
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So sleep ’til the gruel and the shower room duel.
And sometime your pardon will come.
For freedom to beckon, the straight narrow reckon.
And wake to the murderer’s drum.
Barry
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Amulet by Kathy Low
Amulet
A scapular.
A mandrake root.
Byzantine coin,
worn flat by countless fingers.
receiver of fears
and a vector for smallpox.
A futile remedy
against plague and death.
The faith, dear gods,
the hard beliefs,
the solace
and the silent power of symbol.
Kathy Low
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Smoky Sky by Peter Marshall
Smoky Sky
The wheel-tapper has satisfied his ears
and happy, told the driver his sounding.
The stoker shovelled coal, now sweats like tears,
takes restful swig of tea, stops heart pounding.
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With ‘All aboard’, the platform guard does slam
last doors and place the whistle to his lips;
day’s duties done, homeward trudge for a dram
whilst couplings clink and stretch as train wheel slips.
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Steam train pulls slowly over points with clack
and hiss and swish as metal rolls on rails.
To ensure all is well the guard peers back,
hopes nothing on his journey badly fails.
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Engine growls with power, smoke and cloud abound,
yellow and red glows in the place of grey.
Hiss and sigh as pistons force drive wheels round;
night train leaves King’s Cross, steams towards new day.
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Passengers settle gently in their seats,
excited now to leave London behind.
Edinburgh locomotive speeds its beats,
toddler rocked to sleep on lap doesn’t mind.
2020 06 02 Peter Marshall
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Haiku by V. Rivers
Haiku
A welcome rainburst
gives the Swannie Ponds heron
a look of triumph
V. Rivers
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Images of the photographers, tapestry, amulet and railways are all used under a Creative Commons licence 4.0 from collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/search/images
Art Angel - Creative Writing 