LLWG - March

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Firstly, I have to apologise for not posting this sooner.  For some reason I forgot to write my usual blog post, following the writing group meeting.  I must be getting old!

Anyway, the Lowestoft Library Writers' Group met on Tuesday 12th March.

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Our homework for the past month was to write a piece inspired by a picture from a calendar.

I chose this picture -

And decided to use it to write a poem.  After our Februrary meeting, I was inspired to write a poem.  A few members of the group read out some poems that they'd written previously, and that gave me some ides to turn on the poetic side if my brain which has been dozing on and off for quite a while.

Now, as most of you know, I don't like to make life easy for myself, so rather than just writing a regular, run of the mill poem, I decided to write a sestina.  This is a poem with a strict structure.  It's all explained on the wiki page.

The Scene

A stretch of blue becomes the sky

And houses the clouds filled with snow

That washes white the tips of mountains

As they break free and crumble into rocks

And nestle on the faded grass

Which feeds the hungry sheep

And as the days pass by, the sheep

Graze beneath the darkening sky

And make their bed between blades of grass

Away from the high point peaks of snow

And while back and forth the world rocks

The scene stays steady as a mountain

The moon rises behind the mountain

As the world is counting sheep

And mothers are gently rocking

Their babies under a starlit sky

Protected from the wind, rain, and snow

That blankets the frightened grass

The land brings forth drought but grass

Breathes life through cracks.  The mountains

Keep watch, blinking as snow

Falls over their eyes, and blankets the sheep

Who till and tend and farm, as the sky

Changes colour to match the rocks

Worldly torment lands us between a rock

And a hard place but step through grass

And sand and water to feel as free as the sky

Dwelling birds that survey the world from mountain

Tops as man follows leaders like sheep

To the slaughter, leaving red stains on white snow

But as the sun shines bright through the grey, the snow

Melts and washes away they decay from the rocks

And cleanses the tired feet of the oblivious sheep

That pace back and forth, wearing tracks in the grass

Never knowing they could stand as still as mountains

To peacefully gaze at the wonders beneath the sky

A snow drop tear slides down a blade of grass

And glistens on the rock face that longs to be a mountain

That shields the sheep from the threats of the sky

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Di set writing tasks for the group, but I didn't do them.  I was putting the finishing touches to our Anthology, along with the members of the group, checking our pieces for typos, missing apostrophes, and any other anomalies.  The book, entitled Colours of the Coast, should hopefully be published within the next month through Createspace.  I will obviously let you all know when it's available to buy.

Here is the cover, just to whet your appetite!

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Our next meeting will be Tuesday 9th April, and our homework for that session is to write about a place we know, using all five (or six) of our senses.