Monthly Archives: May 2014
An occasional holiday allows many of us to catch up with the world.
I seized that free weekday to visit my local museum in order to catch up with a promise, that of enjoying the latest exhibition at Da Gadderie.
I must confess the Shetland Museum & Archives picked the follow-up to Writing The North exhibition with flair, and What Seas, What Shores follow in the footsteps of the former.
Two archipelagos once again on show till the end of June, and celebrating their respective land / sea scapes would make us once again travel between Orkney & Shetland.
On this occasion, Bloomer chose to explode with extraordinary colours in his interpretation of Aurora borealis – locally named as da mirrie dancers.
I just love the way he played with colours.
Ruth has always captured seascapes with such flair her works make you taste seas pray on your lips.
As a poet & photographer, I am sensitive to my local seascapes, and Ms Brownlee’s work has long captured my imagination & deep admiration as an artist.
Went to Mareel last night for something very special.
Not only was I treated to sheer fiddle & piano extravaganza with Hansel, a group of young talented musicians led by no other than Margaret Scollay, but Inge Thomson opened up uncharted musical scapes through her collaborative project entitled “Da Fishing Hands”.
And what a feast for the ears & heart.
Her creative realms encompass not only Lise Sinclair’s poetry which Inge (Lise’s own cousin) sprinkles with flair & beauty, but the sheer musical habillement defies the laws of musical poetics.
Accompanied by a string of musicians whose dexterity flows through any musical venue, Inge is as bold – and this is by no means any pun – creatively as (and I shared this thought with her after the show) my own music heroin, Kate Bush (to name but one).
Other names could include Bjork, herself a offshoot of Kate in terms of sheer musical boldness.
Inge’s Da Fishing Hands felt a true voyage of musical & poetical discovery. Inge creates fantastic poetical scapes through both voice & instrument. I felt back in Fair Isle. Lise was back in the auditorium with us. So emotional. It was so ethereal.
With grateful thanks to Mareel & Shetland Arts for such a hansel, it was magic.
Now eager to delve back into Inge’s constellation through sound files / a CD.
True, vibrant, as luminous as this phosphorescence at sea. 🙂
Young poets in Years 9, 10 and 12 are writing poems inspired by particular places of importance to them, painting word-pictures of those places and drawing on a rich emotional palette. Here you will find some poems written by pupils in Year 9, the youngest year group in the senior school. The poems are fresh and honest, and show a deft touch and attention to detail. I hope you enjoy them.
James Baddock, Head of English, Drama & Media,
The river flows beneath the night sky
In spring you see the birds learn how to fly
In summer there is the smell of fresh cut grass
And all the people begin to laugh
The swans and ducks then begin to waddle away
And all the children start to play
Autumn comes around fast
And clearing leaves becomes a task
Winter comes in hard before everyone’s eyes
View original post 1,071 more words
The animal kingdom is amazing – follow the herd, pack, gaggle or flock for love, the next generation & life.
Never mind money or politics… We, the human kind forgot about nature’s fundamental laws, and invented invisible barriers. The notion of wandering has been caged ever since the concepts of passport control & money were introduced.
And yet the latter is a passer-by. We all have a different – sometimes peculiar relationship with it. Take it away and we would live like princes & princesses. The pursuit of well-being instead of greed & suffering. Rousseau & Thoreau notably wrote clear thoughts on such issue.
Recently, our S2 pupils experienced the wild as part of their John Muir Awards with Curriculum for Excellence. Their reactions ranged from humility to exhilaration when faced with the vastness & majesty of their surroundings. They connected (or reconnected) with our world. They felt part of it.
To the image of the wheatear, I sometimes wish I were a bird, and I would fly above rivers, glens & mountains, somewhat carefree (avoiding predation!) as Earth seasons dictate.
Au petit royaume de papier,
de métal émaillé de
il entre & sort,
tel un intrus ou un
l’ombre du trottoir,
Il va et vient tel
un passant sans se soucier des
réverbères, de la couleur
d’un monde amer,
At the peerie paper kingdom,
molten metal copper &
he slides through
on prized pavement –
he comes & goes
he, passerby, oblivious to light or
the wind’ s laughters.
© Nat Hall 2014
Young people’s connections with encountering our world
It really felt as if we had been still through time.
I would not dare saying “jinxed”, but we just spent a wonderful night out at the Shetland Library celebrating Marsali’s book launch.
“The Trowie Mound Murders”
Yes, it was all about magical creatures we can encounter through our isles,
And we had it all,
warm welcome from our librarians, bubbly apple juice (if not fermented grapes sealed inside green glass…) words, smiles, more words – either poetry or prose, from The Westside Writers… Spoken, but also sung, with Donald 🙂
What a fantastic night!
Thank you to all present tonight. It was great to see you in Lerwick tonight.
With renewed thanks to our hosts 🙂
Who said mathematics was void of poetics?
I dedicate this triptych to Mademoiselle Wuscher, my most human teacher of maths, back in Pertuis, Provence (1983-84) – as well as my peerie African sister, who embraced them as poetry 🙂
Thales & Pythagoras deciphered the mystics with flair.
Here, as shared with both the Westside Writers & then my peerie sister from the heart , as well as in anticipation to tomorrow’s Higher Mathematics’ exam for all pupils: (as inspired from a recent Prelim)
blue morning light on
cheery starlings chuckle
wrestle with pi,
rippled silence –
wired cherry trees for Japan,
blue dividing isles,
rolling backbones on green
hillsides, where stones
heart with two hands,
I’ll frame Friday through that window.
In true spirit,
Je suis l’enfant de Claude Roy,
celui qui battait la
Claude Roy: French poet & essayist (1915-1997)
algebraic world from
so many sighs in a cold room.
#micropoetry #geopoetics fae #60N
too many letters,
let loose around
x + 3
a factor of cubic expression.
With renewed thanks to Shetland Times‘ Columnist Doug Forrest for the kind words below: