The Song of the Hare

She sang the song of the hare

and the trees responded

 

She sang the song of the hare

and the wind trembled

She sang the song of the hare

and the stars oscillated

She sang the song of the hare

and the earth drummed

She sang the song of the hare

and the hanged man hung

as the god in the tree

put forth branches of sorrow

and the lark climbed high

in an ecstasy of cloud 


The Song of the Hare by Jane Holland was published in Boudicca & Co (Salt Publishing) 2006. 
A poem to celebrate the coming-in of summer!

Photos: Jane Holland, May 2014. Cornwall, near Bodmin Moor.
(Couldn't spot a hare, sorry.)

Penelope Shuttle and Caroline Carver reading Zeeba Ansari's poetry at Waterstones Truro

Caroline Carver and Penelope Shuttle about to read from Zeeba Ansari's work

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a poetry reading at Waterstones Truro, Cornwall, where well-known Cornwall-based poets Penelope Shuttle (on the right, above) and Caroline Carver (on left) were reading from Zeeba Ansari's debut poetry collection, Love's Labours, published by Pindrop Press.

The event was part of the Truro Festival.

Sadly Zeeba herself could not be present. But here is her book ...

And here are some other photos I took of the event ...

It was a packed audience, despite being an evening event.

Penny and Caroline choosing what to read.

Poet Graham Burchell

Some of my kids - probably wondering how much longer they would be required to look well-behaved!

Christmas Chez Nous

It's a big family ... and still growing!

Not quite sure about Grandma's Santa hat.

Christmas can be a bit of a strain for my husband.

But empty packaging has many uses!

Vegetable peeling is always a potential flashpoint area.

Best to steer clear of the kitchen and figure out how the mechanical kitten works instead.

Looks tasty, doesn't it?

Time to unwind with some chocolates.

And even the animals got a Santa hat and treat bag each!

Hope your celebrations were happy and peaceful too.

The Guardian takes up the Poetrygate story again

You can find more on the Poetrygate scandal in today's Guardian.

Great photo.

Will it work, though? The Guardian reports:

"I have a horrible feeling they are wriggling," said Clanchy. "It's really difficult to get 10% of the Poetry Society together. It's like herding cats. But here we are, and they have to listen."

Herding cats. That's an image to take away with you.

Horizon Review, Mark II

'The Dark Pool', Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller (1995). Photo: Cardiff & Miller. See Kathryn Brown's review of this latest Modern Art Oxford exhibition at Horizon Review.

The rumours are true. The poems are all in. The short stories artfully arranged. The reviews straightened. The interviews gasped over. Now the covers have been dragged off. The windows thrown open. The mangy old slippers replaced by spanking red stilettos. HR II is both done and beautifully dusted. Still a little tweaking required, but all very minor and after-the-event. Some apparent vague incompatability with the Vista IE7 browser, which happily I do not use.

But otherwise wickedly delightful, skipping for joy, and live online right now at

Horizon Review

it's the long-awaited ... [extravagant drum-roll] ... ISSUE TWO!!

Go read and enjoy.

"Leap from the crags, brave boy"

The Dhoon

Leap from the crags, brave boy
The musing hills have kept thee long
But they have made thee strong
And fed thee with the fullness of their joy
And given direction that thou might'st return
To me who yearn
At foot of this great steep
Leap! Leap!
So the stream leapt
Into his mother's arms
Who wept
A space

Then calmed her sweet alarms
And smiled to see him as he slept
Wrapt in that dear embrace
And with the brooding of her tepid breast
Cherished his mountain chillness
O, then what a rest!
O, everywhere what stillness.


That was the Victorian Manx poet T.E. Brown writing about one of the Isle of Man's most secluded but spectacular National Glens, the Dhoon.

I'm afraid that I can't be bothered to get the formatting right - I could be here all night, fiddling with it - so apologies to dear old TE, for whom 'A garden is a lovesome thing, god wot!'

The photograph above shows me sitting 'midst the bluebells in Dhoon Glen and was taken in the spring of 2000 by the late Roly Drower, musician, poet and political activist, with whom I was in a relationship at the time.

I was recently contemplating changing that photograph as the 'official' picture on my home page - since it's nearly ten years out of date now - and felt rather sad, remembering the happy circumstances in which it was taken and knowing I couldn't hang on to it forever.

The TE Brown poem seemed startling apposite when I came across it on the Dhoon Glen site, which is why I've reproduced it here, unashamedly corny though it is: 'Leap from the crags, brave boy/The musing hills have kept thee long ... //O, then what a rest!/O, everywhere what stillness.'

Retreating

The inside of my mind right now ...

Me at the Godiva Festival

This is me, believe it or not, performing at last month's Godiva Festival in Coventry. Moments before I was due to go on stage, the equipment shorted out due to heavy rain. Half the audience left during the inevitable delay - there was a band playing in the next tent, so no chance of being heard without a mic - but luckily the rest stayed put rather than get soaked!

Jacqui Rowe took this photograph once I was finally on-stage, and it's a wonderfully atmospheric shot .... i.e. you can hardly tell it's me. But it's nice and smoky too, a bit sixties. So I thought I'd share it with those of you lucky enough to possess a magnifying-glass.

Warwick Castle: a first visit

My version of The Wanderer continues. Slowly, painstakingly. About four lines a day on average. This must be the longest it's ever taken me to write a single poem. Perhaps I ought to be worried. Still, this being a translation/version, I suppose it should be possible to take a good month over the composition without losing the thread ... after all, this poem's been kicking about for so many hundreds of years, it's not going anywhere.

The big news is, I finally organised myself to visit Warwick Castle this weekend. And I was impressed. The place had an immediate and profound effect on me; I could feel lines and phrases carving themselves out on the air as I wandered about its high-ceilinged halls and narrow stone passageways.


For those unsure what this visit is all about, I decided back in October - on becoming Poet Laureate for Warwick - that I wanted to write some poems about Warwick Castle - once in decline, now beautifully restored and one of the best examples of a 'working' medieval castle in England.

My friend Julie Boden, based here in Warwickshire and herself a former Birmingham Poet Laureate, advised me early on to decide what sort of legacy I wanted to leave behind once my stint in the Laureateship was over. And while I had all sorts of grandiose schemes in mind, the only one that's really stuck has been this simple idea of writing about Warwick Castle.


Oddly enough, David Morley was also there this weekend, a major Warwickshire poet and the writer in charge of the creative writing programme at Warwick University; I spotted him in the 'medieval' cafeteria, lunching with his family, and went over to say hello.

Apparently fancying himself as the man from Porlock, David stopped for a quick word a few minutes later while I was scribbling down some notes and phrases over a latté. Luckily, I have no intention of starting to write any of the Warwick poems until much later this year, so his efforts were in vain!

Basically, my visits this weekend have been purely preliminary, just looking about the place and setting my mind in motion. But it's proved an extremely worthwhile thing to do, far beyond what I had initially envisaged.

At first, I thought Warwick Castle might provide inspiration for two or three poems. But having received such strong vibes both from the castle and its grounds, I've got a hunch this could easily become a much longer-term project.

Time to start blocking in 'Warwick Castle poems' on the calendar, perhaps.

Charlotte Lamb

The novelist Charlotte Lamb - and me, sporting a dazzling pair of cerise earrings - on holiday in France, early 80s

It would have been my mother's 70th birthday today. She died in October 2000. I've posted this photo and blogged about it on the memorial site I run for her over at charlottelamb.blogspot.com.

What would my mother, author of over 150 published novels, have said about my sloth in finishing my current book? She'd probably have thrown the local paper at me and told me to get a job as a waitress instead - her usual riposte whenever I discussed my writing with her.

Happy Birthday, Mum! Wherever you are ...

Photos from Aldeburgh: not poets, but seascape

New Warwick Laureate Blog

This is just to let you know I've launched yet another blog onto the poetry blogosphere - this time to cover my activities and official duties as Poet Laureate for Warwick.

I'll put the link into my sidebar list soon, but for now, here's a link to that brand-new blog, along with this hilarious photo of myself looking all laurel-wreathed, beflowered and glowing at the recent launch of the Warwick Words Festival:
http://warwicklaureate.blogspot.com

If you run a blog or any other site which might find this Poet Laureate business interesting, I'd very grateful if you could link to the new site from your own. See if we can't notch up a few hundred visitors!