One of the most enjoyable aspects of my Poet in the Park residency at Bradgate has been running workshops for the public.\u00a0 I\u2019ve met some talented writers from the area, and I\u2019ve enjoyed seeing how they respond to the prompts. They have been good-humoured about my habit of coming up with daft names at the start of each workshop, and have written with imagination every time.\u00a0 In this blog post, I\u2019m delighted to share with you some poems by the participants, based on the workshops so far.\u00a0 As you\u2019ll see, each poet has a different take on the Park \u2013 although some themes and images crop up quite a few times.\u00a0 I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have.<\/p>\n
We start with Sally Wilson\u2019s poem, which combines personal memory with the figure that hangs over the place forever.\u00a0 I love the idea that Lady Jane Grey is trapped forever, trying to send Morse code messages to us\u2026.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Bradgate Park<\/strong><\/p>\n Spring\u2019s ruin<\/p>\n The memory wood<\/p>\n Of cycling visits<\/p>\n Long ago past streams<\/p>\n In deer land\u2019s leap<\/p>\n Over a child\u2019s rainbow<\/p>\n The colours still shine<\/p>\n amidst fine woodland scenery.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lady Jane Grey<\/p>\n Memories of you<\/p>\n Tapped in Morse code<\/p>\n Down the ages<\/p>\n Through the wires<\/p>\n Trapped, convicted of treason<\/p>\n Finished at an early age<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sally Wilson<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deione Hanson has written several poems, all very different. \u00a0In this first one, we see the combination of wildlife and human activity. I love the carefully-observed detail about the bracken that ends the poem.<\/p>\n Dark Stag Stands Alert<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Dark stag stands alert<\/p>\n Someone passes with a straining black leash of black alarm.<\/p>\n Heads turn about and about as fear changes direction,<\/p>\n Uneasy stretch to trot to neat lope,<\/p>\n Close by, mounds of stone and earth spring antlers and take flight<\/p>\n Lines of unease weaving along their slotted path.<\/p>\n Behind, the crumpled bracken slowly lifts.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deione Hanson<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This untitled poem manages to capture one moment brilliantly: the location, the birds, the weather\u2026. I like some of the imagery here: \u2018crazed boughs\u2019 is perfect for the jackdaws, and the appearance of the mole is another great detail:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jackdaws shrill from crazed boughs on high<\/p>\n Pinging their spring intent<\/p>\n Falls the drizzle like a sigh,<\/p>\n Damping the spirits with its descent.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A pheasant\u2019s high pitched bark<\/p>\n Sounds his territory, calls a thrill<\/p>\n Echoes through the oak trees stark<\/p>\n Standing clear against the hill.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Huddled figures briskly stroll<\/p>\n Their hooded colours brightly seep<\/p>\n Past grass, short, muddied by the mole<\/p>\n Earth moving, black tips out its heap.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Damp fallow start at pheasant\u2019s call<\/p>\n New turned soil gathers drizzle fall.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deione Hanson<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This poem captures the timeless atmosphere of the park, as seen by ravens, the bringers of death.\u00a0 Although the past is \u2018long-gone murdered\u2019, the ravens still observe human activity, as random movement over the unchanging landscape.<\/p>\n The Ravens<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n We are back, we are back, we see<\/p>\n The land of our long-gone murdered past.<\/p>\n The rocks and crags slide beneath our ink black wings<\/p>\n Unchanged but strangely dotted by bright points of colour<\/p>\n Travelling without aim along new scars.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deione Hanson<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Finally from Deione, this poem that puns bore (carried) and bore (not interested) to give voice to Old John:<\/p>\n Old John<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Now I am bored.<\/p>\n My favourite days, I bore the Lord<\/p>\n And watched his horses race around<\/p>\n My hill and cheered the thunder on the ground.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deione Hanson<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In one of the workshops, we experimented with a form loosely based on the sonnet.\u00a0 In this poem Angela Reddaway considers the change of the \u00a0seasons, and compares the bare\u00a0 branches and the\u00a0 cafe customers, both with chilled\u00a0 \u201cskeletal frames\u201d.\u00a0 I also like the playful use of \u2018elders\u2019 \u2013 beings that are older than you, but also of course elder trees, in Elder Plantation.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sonnet<\/strong><\/p>\n Bare branches reaching expectantly<\/p>\n towards the place the sun should be<\/p>\n Stilled by searching winds<\/p>\n that chill their skeletal frame<\/p>\n Cafe customers sit outside determinedly<\/p>\n Thawing frozen fingers around mugs of steaming tea<\/p>\n Perceptions of how the month should be<\/p>\n not equalling the reality of icy, muffled day<\/p>\n The noisy protest of a solitary bird<\/p>\n hovering above the slime of last year’s leaves<\/p>\n disturbs the running deer bidden to bewildered stop<\/p>\n The purpose of their flight now forgotten<\/p>\n Time now for young saplings to emulate their elders<\/p>\n Soon enough will winter’s front take it’s turn again<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Angela Reddaway<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Whilst doing some research for this project, I came across a catalogue describing lands and properties for sale in the Bradgate Park area.\u00a0 The sale took place in 1921, and the original catalogue is kept in the Wigston Record Office.\u00a0 In the Spring workshop, I challenged the poets to include phrases from the catalogue descriptions in a poem \u2013 Angela has risen to the challenge brilliantly with this \u2018found\u2019 poem:<\/p>\n March 27th<\/sup> 2018<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Should you for your leisure choose<\/p>\n To wander forth to Bradgate Park<\/p>\n Approach it from the north direction<\/p>\n Where a charming and elevated situation<\/p>\n Reveals fine beds of rock, stone and granite<\/p>\n No guarantee is given or implied<\/p>\n But a brisk walk to Old John<\/p>\n Commanding delightful views<\/p>\n Holds promise of a beautiful character<\/p>\n When beheld in it’s entirety<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Angela Reddaway<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n We end this selection with a poem by Angela Yates, which picks up on one of the dominant themes in any writing about the Park: Lady Jane Grey and her story.\u00a0\u00a0 I like the way that this poem, by mentioning specific places in the Park, makes it clear that Jane\u2019s presence is everywhere.\u00a0 There is also a clever combination of past and present as Jane\u2019s ghost disturbs geologists -whose job, of course, is to make sense of the Park\u2019s distant past:<\/p>\n Poor Jane<\/strong><\/p>\n When nights are dark in Bradgate Park, the ghost of Lady Jane<\/p>\n From Hallgates through to Swithland Woods, goes haunting through the lanes<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Behind the War Memorial she lies in wait at night<\/p>\n When lovers pass, their hands she grasps \u2013 the poor souls flee in fright<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In Bradgate House, where\u00a0 peacocks screech among the ruined walls<\/p>\n She paces, face translucent, pale,\u00a0 along the ancient hall<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018I never wanted to be Queen\u2019, she cries, \u2018the truth must now be said<\/p>\n My parents\u2019 aspirations made me lose my pretty head.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Oh pity me,\u2019 she cries in grief, \u2018for my pathetic life<\/p>\n Eight days I was a \u201cMajesty\u201d, eight months I was a wife.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The fallow deer that roam the park, on well-worn lanes and banks<\/p>\n Are fearful every night that she will mount their trembling flanks<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Then off she\u2019ll ride to see Old John, another wraith-like ghost<\/p>\n And spectral tales will they exchange, to frighten each the most<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Geologists and Scientists, when carrying out their checks<\/p>\n Feel bony, icy fingers touch their unsuspecting necks<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And rangers who investigate the oak, the ash the birch<\/p>\n Occasionally glimpse poor Jane, as she makes her fruitless search<\/p>\n <\/p>\n To find her head has quite become a miserable obsession<\/p>\n Jane knows that she has every right to take back her possession<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The moral of this story is to take your walks by day<\/p>\n And don\u2019t end your days a victim \u2013 like her Ladyship, Jane Grey<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n Angela Yates<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Thank you to all the contributors to this post, and to all the workshop participants.\u00a0 I look forward to the fourth workshop, in the autumn.\u00a0 The next posts, over the next couple of weeks, will feature Richard Thomas, who leads the archaeological fieldschool, and Peter Tyldesley, the Director of the Bradgate Park Trust.\u00a0 I hope you\u2019re enjoying the Park in the summer weather \u2013 be inspired!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" One of the most enjoyable aspects of my Poet in the Park residency at Bradgate has been running workshops for the public.\u00a0 I\u2019ve met some talented writers from the area, and I\u2019ve enjoyed seeing how they respond to the prompts. They have been good-humoured about my habit of coming up with daft names at theRead more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":515,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[2,21,3,18],"tags":[11,14,28,29,5],"class_list":["post-87","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-bradgate-park","category-landscape","category-poetry","category-wildlife","tag-deer","tag-lady-jane-grey","tag-seasons","tag-sonnet","tag-workshop"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/515"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=87"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":88,"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87\/revisions\/88"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=87"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=87"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.lboro.ac.uk\/poetinthepark\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=87"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}