Looking back, Looking forward 1

This is the first of three posts loooking back at 2024 and looking forward into 2025.  Today's post is a round up of the textiles I've made.  There are numerous posts showing the works in progress but this is the first time they've all been together.  Initially I thought that this year had not been particularly productive but then there's this!

They are in alphabetical order rather than chronological - just for a change.

Captivity, Freedom, Identity

Chaos to Calm

Conviction

 

 

 

 

 

Dancing in Fetters 1

Dancing in Fetters 2

Dancing to Freedom

Hollow

I Am Not A Number

Fettered/Unfettered

I'm excited to announce that you can see all these pieces at Forge Mill Needle Museum in Redditch, Worcestershire from March 19th to April 27th 2025.

Plus there were 2 river pieces not pictured here.  The Story of the River and The River Flows Out

Thanks for being here today
Bernice

Happy Christmas

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas.

(C) Phil Botha (Unsplash)

This is a poem I wrote many years ago.

Night Watch

A cold, cheerless night
Star bright sky and misted moon,
Raw winds around the hillside
Chilling the soul.
My turn to watch,
Keep guard from ten to dawn.
Keep safe the sheep of other men
From predators - meat starved in winter.
Watch over the sleeping men
Who share my troubles and the cold.

So cold it was, high on the hill.
Below the town slept
White houses clutching the hillside.
No lights to brighten the darkness
Or the chill of the night watch.
I was a young man then
Not old and wizened as today.
So long ago, but in my memory
It stays star bright.

One star blazed,
A many faceted solitaire
Shone down, it seemed, on one poor place,
A stable carved from the rocky hill.
The light beckoned, called us forth.
The sky seemed full of music
Sounding a hymn of praise.

We shepherds left our sheep,
Ran down the hillside to the cave
Drawn by the beauteous sound
Of joy, until we reached the place
Where a baby lay.
We knelt before the child
Not knowing why, or who he was.
But we were filled with gladness
And returned to our flocks rejoicing.

So long ago. Thirty years, or more -
And yet it seems like yesterday.
What happened to the boy I wonder?
Is he rich and famous now,
Or a poor shepherd, like me?

Thank you for being here today.
Bernice

Onomatopoeia

In this week's zoom poetry workshop we looked at onomatopoeia.  Sara-Jane introduced us to three poems and after each one we were set a task. 

After the 2nd poem: The Field Mouse, we were set the following task: Write a poem that begins by naming a season or a month and tells the story of something that happened during that time. It could be a personal childhood or adult memory, or a local or global event or a mixture of personal and global.

This is what came to my mind.

Isolation

Winter days, silent as though night.
Late risen light through icy clouds,
shadowy outlines of stark, leafless trees.
Dull hours descending into gloom
before dusk’s grimy hand clutches
the day’s end and forces the night.

Sad days, the cheerless light
penetrating the mind already anguished.
Forlorn, the insinuating whispers
overwhelm the mind with negativity.
Snide words, disparaging talk
crushing and chilling the soul.

Late winter, when silent streaks of light
splinter the darkness with slender fingers
of luminosity, breaking the desolation.
Small glimpses of the Spring to come.
Snowdrops glistening in the frosty dawn
and hopeful thoughts assail the mind.

Thank you for joining me today.
Bernice