Voices in the Coalshed: 'My View Today'
Earlier this month, we asked you to take part in June's 'Voices in the Coalshed' activity by sending in 'Your View Today', and we're now excited to share the final piece, featuring responses all the way from New Zealand!
From a Wellington Window
From our window, at a distance, is the sea. We walked there yesterday, a crisp winter’s day with the sun shining. We still move aside on the pavement, without thinking, to give space; we still carry hand sanitiser in our pockets; teddies continue sitting in our window. But now the playgrounds are noisy with children. We meet friends in cafes, buy beer and pizza at our local pub.
Outside our window, birds visit. The best thing about the last few months was birdsong. The traffic stopped and for a time we could hear the birds better.
(Or, will I ever sit in a pub again)
The ground it moved
Then was still
That deathly rattle
Was with me
Silenced by the movement
Of the cursive spread
Linked worthy trends
Upon me crushed
I gaze out of my window, cup in hand, from the lush green of the reclaimed Barrow pitheap, the spire in Worsbrough, the hills of Grenoside, over fields and woods to the mass of trees which frame the reservoir and reflect on the eighty days since lockdown began.
I've seen rainbows for the NHS, clapped for key workers, cheered on Captain Tom, commemorated VE Day, kept the two metre rule, used Zoom for yoga, maintained contact via WhatsApp, spent hours reading, crosswords, gardening, walking.
I've done my best, I really have, but oh! how I long for a grandchild's kiss.
Relax, kick off your shoes
Chase away Corona blues
Let your many worries go
Take each day a little slow
Don’t feel guilty, you’re allowed
To read a book or sing out loud
Wear your pyjamas if you wish
Drink your coffee from a dish
Wave your arms up in the air
Never mind your messy hair
Do your make-up now and then
Relax, and do it all again!
Forest of green trees
Bull rushes and flag iris
Stand to attention
Water lily platform waiting
Mirror glass reflections
All is quiet in the evening sun
During this lockdown, folks heads have started
stirring. As tempers burn,
ination, finds a whole new meaning. Whilst homes and
Work. Get a thorough
y more Gardens have a regal
look. After many years, folks are
finally reading a
book. The arts
are helping, with a multitude of feelings. As
music and crafts, bring about deep natural
healing. Lockdown has definitely brought about, many hidden
skills,and talents out. We all are going through this
hell. The only way we'll stay
safe and well
Two children throwing punches
Arguing over “crap packed lunches”
Home Schooling in the garden shed
“Sooo bored- going back to bed.”
You should have seen it last week; the cry of every aspiring gardener.
Then, there were
stabbing spikes of stipa,
zinging flashes of alliums grown tall,
soft, sensual , promiscuous folds of peonies softly opening
crowning the view, the stately glory of Aesculus hippocastanum
spreading her blowsy skirts and flaunting her rose pick racemes.
But now, the 'March come lately' wind has roared out May instead.
Blown this view apart, bashed it to the ground.
Broken, beaten, bedraggled and bewildered.
Looking out on shades of green,
Speckled with buttercups,
Lively blackbirds singing for food.
Bird table distractions from the whining of washing,
The clatter of pencils, “Can I stop now, mum?”
Inside another day of grey clouds, grey minds, grey chatter.
The garden brings hope of brighter days to come.
Then and Now.
Bang of doors
Crunch of gears
Sound of horn
Squeal of brakes
Shriek of laughter
Shout of neighbours
Bark of dogs
Whistle of owners
Cry of babies
Crash of pallets
Call of birds
That was then
Now its silence, disturbing silence with just the distant call of birds
Watery exclamations on the window
Clouds lurking overhead
Shiny drops gathering on the washing line
Drops dripping from the shed.
Wet, wet and dull
But lots of colour and very green Lawn
But no problem as inside warm and cosy and
I can make my own view with my patchwork quilt project
Roses and chocolate fabric and colours, building to a beautiful
Family in the distance
Waving in the mist
Moving a little nearer
Never to be kissed
Social distance walking
Babies to be seen
Cuddles got to wait
Virus to be clean
Moments to be treasured
Weeks and months to be measured
Normality will be precious
Trees waving gently
Shades of green.
Blackbird- yellow beak,
Feeding on the lawn.
Hunting for tasty worms to feed the babies.
Drizzle gently falling to the ground.
As I walk along
by hedgerows full of song
And walk through an arch
footsteps dragging, not a march
See trees as tall as towers
lower branches forming towers
Home to birds with different hues
Help to lift my dormant blues
As I espy one through a leaf
glad’ning my heart, easing my grief
Watching birds both large and small
hearing their song, their mating call
Troubling thoughts begin to cease
Different leaves, different trees
Soon I see brick and stone
into crowds no longer lone
But now upbeat and very calm
the trees, the birds have been my balm
If you would like to take part in upcoming Voices in the Coalshed activities, keep an eye out on our website for July's writing task!
Posted in See