Tuesday 22 December 2020

Solstice 2020

The pen rests horizontal on the desk 
while thoughts fly, 
defy capture among page lines. 
Ill-defined intention washes over 
my lightening happy heart, 
flooded at last with hopeful inspiration. 

Oyez oyez hear ye
the young ones yet might save the way 
we live and love our world but, 
before we curl to sleep away 
in abject irresponsibility, 
let’s grasp their giggling shoulders, 
turn towards today’s astonishing star, 
sing hurrah! 
How wondrous we are!
The world and our hope, a loving song goes on… 

… if only we pick up the pen dear friends, 
that I nearly left lying today.



 

Tuesday 8 December 2020

Friday 11th December Gerry Loose Water Story

 Water Story was delighted to have guest author Gerry Loose zooming in for this session this 


"Without Words"

was the title of the session and he certainly gave the industrious Water Story writers a good crafting workout before heading off Eswatini for a gathering of southern African poets. Here's the link via facebook for that session if you'd like to hear it (you need to click the link on the same device that you have facebook connected to...).

Seeing Gerry puts me in mind of a wording duel that Gerry began with me in 2012 when I moored up next to their residential narrow boat in Bowling. 


I was embarking on my Clyde to Caledonia Odyssey and had those words attached to the side of the barge in giant magnetic letters. Of course this was more of challenge than Gerry could bear and the next day I discovered his new anagram of moved letters:

led on a city dale co

There ensued a scrabbling duel with Gerry and I taking turns and the standard of anagram stepping up daily. 


Did I ever tell him what a fine distraction this was from the terror of the imminent journey and the agony of waiting for just the right weather and tide to take a canal boat to sea.... not that this proved to be a brilliant idea...


Many thanks to Kate Lindsay for the following contributions:

Water Story 11 Dec 2020 – Gerry Loose Workshop

Prompt: I as she who …

 

I am she who dances

alone  in the kitchen

I am she who dances

with weans as well as  wolves

I am she who dances

in the morning to greet the day

I am she who dances

whether …. or not …. folk are watching

I am she who dances

without sequins and sparkle

I am she who dances

while she can

 

 

Kate Lindsay


Water Story

11 December 2020

Workshop with Gerry Loose

Prompt: an encounter with someone or something that meant a lot but did not involve words

 

Small Encounters

The hand on my elbow as we make our way along the corridor

The glance of understanding as we wait

The step aside in recognition that to go on unhindered is easier than beginning again

The nod of acknowledgement to experiences shared 

The arm across my shoulders while emotion abates

The cold air on my face as I open the door

The sight of the red breast of the robin

 

 


Water Story Xmas Perty ~ 27th November 2020

What a time we had at the Xmas Perty - all dressed up with a "wee refreshement" and plenty of cheer. Not quite as Diane remembers in her exquisite painting (hidden talents Diane!) or Sheila with her less than flattering photo of the inebriated captain!



Pat started us off in stitches with her take on TS Elliot's Journey of the Magi


The Journey of the Lifebelters

by Pat Sutherland

A cold Christmas we had of it
Just the time of year
for going arse over tit on the ice
and doing battle in the supermarket
for the last loaf.
There were times we regretted
ever getting involved
in all that tinsel tawdriness
and the highway robbery of Festive Menus
full of reconstituted turkey
and khaki knackered sprouts.
Still we soldiered on,
to the soundtrack of Slade
with the voices singing in our ears, saying
that this was all mince.

The on-board Christmas party brought relief, however,
Captain Bev pouring libations topped with Cointreau,
Aileen impersonating The Laughing Policeman
And Pat setting fire to the mince pies
And the barge rocking to our tuneless singing.
Then came January and hacking coughs
And we all learned the word ‘pandemic’
But there was no information, though Boris said
It would all blow over, which it did, from Glasgow Cross to 
Auchtermuchty and beyond.

New rules followed; we washed our hands 
And closed our doors, but set down 
This set down 
This: Bev and Larry
Saved us from ourselves
Not a moment too soon,
Finding Zoom, (a cloud-based video communications app that allows you to set up virtual video and audio.)

Meetings had a new dimension: 
Can you hear me?
No, Put your face up to the screen! Where’s Kay gone?
I’m stuck out here in the ether; get me back! 
My screen’s gone blank, no, I can see your feet!
What’s a screen shot? Fuck’s sake! Pat can’t find the link AGAIN…

All this has carried on to the present,
And we’ll be glad when it’s over
but set down 
This set down 
This
out of Covid new poets have sprung,
Lifebelters have written their way through 
House arrest and endless grey days
Prizes were won and pieces published
Lesley has woven magic words and music
Kay has walked through four pairs of boots 
And we have kept each other afloat
In our lifebelts.

Here’s tae us!

*************************

The event fell short of authentic Water Story festive spirit, simply because our atmospheres were not suffused with the smoke of Pat's culinary responsibilities... it just isn't the same if Pat isn't setting fire to sausage rolls, croissants or mince pies. 


The festivities came to a natural halt and this wayward captain realised that yes, even in the midst of this hilarity, there was writing to be done. And so it was. I'm still waiting for contributions from the crew but here is one from your captain. 

Merry Christmas all x 


The Thirteenth Day of Christmas   

by Pat Sutherland (Apologies to Dave Calder)

Whit you aw aboot?
A should be gratefu’??  
A’ll gie ye grateful
a partridge ye say, aye right
bit a perr tree an aw?
It’s oot on the sterr heid 
wi the bunker
cannae squeeze it in the door

thae turtle doves huv shat 
big wallopers oan ma laminate
the hens are roostin oan the duvet
an the geese are bowfin,
layin eggs oan the sofa an honkin 
thae drummers are gein it welly 
in the scullery wi the ladies
dancin tae the pipers pipin
an mad mental lords a-
leapin aff the sterrs
knockin the maids a milkin
aff their stools
the cludgie’s flooded from the swans
flappin in the bath –
it’s a pure stramash

aye, A’ll grant the five gold rings 
did nae herm but
the partridge ett thaim
an the perr tree’s deid
wi the coal dust

so thanks a bunch


Cheeery Me!
A salute from Cap’n Bev (hic)

Cheery me!
My penpals all are here
in party plumed regalia 
and Christmas paraphernalia

How I love this scribbling crew!
How the sailoring sense of waterway muse 
is hoisted aloft as writers gather on screen
to sail our sea of words.

Just for a while we forget the beloved green and wet 
of loch and canal, zoom into the cheering plasma glow
knowing the welcome that waits.

Was it ever the water, the boat, the ben 
as much as the soaring souls 
of these writers I’ve come to love and know?


Epilogue from Pat:  

Lines for a Christmas Card  by Hilaire Belloc

May all my enemies go to hell,

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel