The Old Courthouse

Creative Writing Group

Pale sky full of cold

red & black blazing a trail

old snow lines the tracks

 

Feel the packman’s ponies tread

from parish to parish.

 

Clear cold blue day

frosted branches

decorate the lane

 

Another winter over,

with spring comes

hope for the next generation

 

Look on these hills, these skies

my ancestors, like yours,

steeped in spring’s coming.

 

Feel the packman’s ponies tread

from parish to parish.

 

A hand of white cloud

rests over sheep land, palm down,

quieting, calming

 

 

 

Spring sings with her

Bonny

 

Paper white petals

small way markers edge the path

all through the green wood

 

Clouds feather the sky

ghosts appear on the water

bloom in broad daylight

 

Shout, you can shout at the wind

and tiny flowers a thumbnail high will quiver,

tiny flowers will quiver.

 

Sheep do safely graze at Keld

below the distant hills

 

Over, under or through, leap

the water, stone and moss

river and bridge, flow and lode

 

Feel the packman’s ponies tread

from parish to parish.

 

 

Life-giving water in tranquil shade

gushing forth from its mossy glade.

 

Remnants of rainforest

ferns

water falling

 

‘Epiphytes and bryophytes enjoy the moisture of the woods.

Living layers drip with green.’

 

Curiosity killed the cat

          but fortunately

          not the cows!

 

Curious bovine gazes at human.

Are my earrings nicer than yours?

 

Sheep gently graze by a rippling beck

beneath a blue, cloud ridden sky

 

Steep-angled bedrock,

furred in green sedge, holds a stag

antlered in velvet

 

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Monarch of all I survey!

 

Now the winter bushes bloom again,

with branches decked in finest lace.

 

Shout, you can shout at the wind

 

Snow of last night’s storm

waits hushed, bids you step

across the river, flowing still

 

Limekilns ride winter

like old ocean liners, streaming

steam through the sunset

 

Stepp this way to a

winter wonderland

 

White of snow, grey of steam

nature versus man in harmony

 

Feel the packman’s ponies tread

from parish to parish.

 

Passing Shap station –

years ago children returned here,

school day over.

 

 

A Calendar Renga poem created at our January meeting using all the captions submitted to accompany the selected images for the 2024 calendar by members of the Wordsworth Writing Group at The Old Courthouse.

Alex, Henry, Jane, Janet, Jean, Juliet, Lania, Peter, Phyllis, Sue, Susan, Victoria

Thank you to everyone who supplied photos and writing for the calendar and to Wordsworth Grasmere for their sponsorship.

   

Poetry produced by members of the Old Courthouse (Wordsworth Trust) Writing Group 
some of the poetry was written in response to the ‘Our Common Heritage’ exhibition staged as part of the YDNP Westmorland Dales project in June 2023.
Shepherd
Royal Fell Ponies
Rhythm of the Commons
Restoring peat bogs
Oak Ink
Voice
Selling natural capital
Measuring cultural value
Commonwealth
The Mountain Answers Monbiot
Farmhouse