Posts

The giant boy

Image
  The giant boy felt he had no place as he walked the fields on a still summer day. He noticed the windmills not turning, he went to the top of a hill and looked down at the motionless windmills. He took a deep breath and blew over the fields and all the windmills turned. The farmers were happy and all came out to cheer the boy and he felt, at last, he belonged.  Russell

Stuck Midway

Image
Life lost in a containment of lies. Thinking the drink was the answer. I could ignore all that was real, never facing my own demons, never trying to find the inner me.  Now I break free of my containment. Looking in the mirror, seeing the damage I have done to myself. I see the changes I missed - so many years wasting away in a drunken haze. Now I face who I am.  A addict with no more addictions trying to find a reason to live, to be here. I feel unjustified to be on the Earth with all the pain and hurt I out out while I was this other person, inside the addiction side of my mentality.  When I am in such a place, I only see two options: death or drink as I can't find myself as I did when I was drunk.  Who I am Who am I? Darren 

The Garden of my Soul

Image
I carried my wounds in the hole in my heart like a steel ball with a chain connected to my soul. It was with great regret I put it down and cut the chain; severing the umbilical cord of comfort it gave me. I dropped the ball that had filled that hole with great reserve...placed in a desert of regret.  I prayed for rain. The rain came with all its wrath, backed by the world, feeling the seed of discontent buried beneath the sands of my mind.  But I persevered with the strength drawn from others, those that had weathered the storm before me. The faeces this world threw at me becoming nutrients my garden needed.  I spend my days weeding the rich soil in the once barren desert as it becomes a garden.   From the fertiliser, humanity has given, all the while aware not to pull the plants that bear fruit, for they are what fills the whole. The chain becomes sentient as it lies in the Eden I have created, inching relentlessly towards my soul; its only purpose to recommend and feed like the para

Carlton Marshes - the walk, the writing, the banner

Image
Last year as part of  Marsh, Arts and Us we visited Carlton Marshes. The banner was inspired by our trip accompanied by artist Ian Brownlie and writer Belona Greenwood. Together, we developed the artwork in a series of workshops held at PrimeYarc.  The project is part of the Norfolk and Suffolk Broads Authority’s Marsh, Arts and Us community arts engagement project and part of the wider Water, Mills and Marshes Broads Landscape Partnership scheme funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund.   Below is some of the writing that came out of the walking. It is beautiful and profound, humble and life-enhancing. Take a walk with our words.   ***  Carlton Marshes Sleeping water dragons Lazy path   Following the lazy path along the stream, the birds were singing in the background. I had decided to take a less travelled path today. The grass only slightly trampled from the marsh creatures frolicking in the night. I stumbled over something that was partially buried on the path. Turning around

Waiting

Image
  5494302  ©  Oleg Dolgikh  |  Dreamstime.com Siting by a village pond Early in sunrise no one about but creatures of the night then the village awakens person by person Animal by animal the fish glimmer in the water performing their gentle dance for life, my dog beside me, lazy just looking. I wonder where his mind is as I see his ears prick up staring, waiting. What next?  Simon

Sunset

Image
  14342118   ©   Peter Wollinga   |   Dreamstime.com As I watch the sun fall from the sky, The trail of red colours Amongst the spartan clouds Leaving a visible line across the sky. The colours reflect on the surface Of the running water, Chasing itself along channels, Weaving through the soft, black mud, Like a river weaving through the countryside.   Martyn

Shoes

Image
  5340227   ©   Tyler Rogers   |   Dreamstime.com As the sun breaks through the rolling mist on the path, a figure appears, a robed silhouette walking towards me, the sun behind him giving an illusion of him exiting a tunnel. Distracted, I stepped in a puddle, staining my new white trainers. As the figure draws nearer I noticed he had no shoes on his feet, dusty and calloused from the miles he had walked. I ask the man why he has no shoes and if they hurt, he said “Yes they do, the reason I wear no shoes is to feel the earth beneath me, I lost my connection to the world and wanted to get it back.” Maybe he was on to something so I removed my shoes and continued on my journey.   Russell