Let's have some French poetry for Christmas

Over a month has gone by since my last Blog entry and thoughts turn inevitably to Christmas.  Those of you who know me will also know I try to think ''outside the box'' where creative writing is concerned.  Or, as a seasoned Chief Petty Officer once said to me when we were shifting a large amount of boxes from a large space into a smaller one:  ''Think laterally''.

Whatever our religion (or not), we become swept up in festive activities whether intended (or not).  The following poem is one of a collection by Rainer Maria Rilke.  Rilke was born in Prague, Czechoslovakia in 1875 and died in Switzerland in 1926.  He wrote in both French and German although the following is a translation of one of his French poems.

De Pere en Fils (From Father to Son)

Reject the complicated life,

Look at your hand near the bread on the table:

how clear those two things on the clear cloth are

from father to son and from son to father.

Love the Earth's celestial countryside

and it's joy, hidden by manifest pain,

the quiet window, the harsh door

from father to son and from son to father.

And those kneeling things always in place

and the dog who fidgets, yet outdoes them,

very gentle believer who hardly doubts

from father to son and from son to father.

(c) R M Rilke.

Wishing everyone a peaceful Christmas.  Enjoy the simplicity of silence.

The River Plym in Early November

I live close to the River Plym; an area of contrasts with the busy Embankment Road, railway line and yet calm, unbridled views over Saltram park.  Occasionally when time permits (and usually at weekends), I take a very early walk close to the river to watch the sun rise.  Now the night's are drawing in and the morning's have a tardy start of light, the moment to catch the sun coming up is later than I would like but on a morning such as we had today, it is beautiful.  The weather was exceptional - just like high summer or Midsummer's Day.  The hills looking up beyond Plympton were shaded in soft violets, mauves and apricots with a chiffon white mist rising in front of the boat house at Saltram Point.  A wide range of birds from Oyster-Catchers, to Plovers to Warblers swept and swung over the high tide which gently lapped the shore.  Rare species often gather here to the delight of Ornithologists.

At that point I was brought to mind of a typical November day.  Grey, wet, windy, cold and dank.  Yet today was none of these.  My late father (Bernard Snell, who was born in November 1922) was a sun worshipper by nature and hated the winter.  He could never bear the long dark cold days and often referred to November as 'Suicide Month'.  He felt trudging out to work in the dark and wet, returning home in the same conditions and spending much of his time jammed in the hull of a ship (he was a Ships' Welder), meant day light and sunshine were hugely important to him.  Additionally his awful experiences of being in Plymouth throughout the Blitz meant that darkness could mean death.

Below is an extract of Novembrists from the wonderful collection of poems by
Sean O'Brien called November.

Reactionary elements combining in the dark
To undermine the decent light of trade
With futile knowledge of the spirit's appetite
For somewhere in between this world
And its discarded shadows.  O Novembrists!
At the year's death walking to no purpose
But to walk among the rutted leaves
And dripping hawthorns, in behind
The sleeping yards and the flooded lawns
And air-raid shelters piled with mattresses and comics,
Now I see it is my parents that I walk beside, ..........

If my father were alive today, he would have smiled at the irony.

Ruth

Acrostic Sonnet for Whitleigh

Acrostic Sonnet for Whitleigh


Wend through these ancient Whitleigh trees
Hiding blooms of Cuckoo Flower,
Infused with misted eau de vie
Time flows by on seasons showers.
Lancaster Gardens; bridle path
Encapsulating ghosts of old,
Indentured men grind plane and lathe
Gladdened nights wrap darkened folds.
Hewing five-bar farm gate and post

Guarding green fields of Budshead Road,
Ribboning west towards the coast;
Echoing Whitleigh Hall's abode.
Elegies sing of hearth and home,
Now here we rest, no more to roam.

(c)  Ruth Muttlebury
2015

Literary Festivals

Literary Festivals - there are lots of them around.  I've attended a few and generally, in terms of a popular adage, 'the oldest ones are the best'.  The new ones don't have that wonderfully worn patina about them which give grace to a cosy feeling of piles of books and fascinating writer's of all genres sharing their views.  That said, it needs a certain environment to make a festival work well and Kew Gardens is no exception. 

Details of Write On Kew are here:
http://www.kew.org/visit-kew-gardens/whats-on/write-on-kew

And while we are talking of the right environment for a literary festival, Whitleigh Words Festival Finale will take place on 3 October 2015 to the north of Plymouth.  For more details:
https://whitleigharts.wordpress.com/hiya-whitleigh-newsletter-autumn-2014/whitleigh-words-festival/

As some of you know, I don't involve myself with Open Mic, Performance Poetry or anything else which means I could (and would) bore people witless with my work. Nor do I sit in on endless performances either.  I am happy to be a silent poet, as they say.  However, I look forward to popping over to Whitleigh for a short spell on the day to say hello to Sandy Wager who has worked tirelessly in bringing everything together for the local residents.

Whitleigh has many things which some of the suburbs in Plymouth are without.  Several airy and light church halls for various functions, a selection of shops, some gentle ancient woodlands and a great pub - The Albermarle Inn - which gives a warm welcome and has been a great help to Sandy in the festival.  While many parts of Plymouth are losing their community hubs, Whitleigh is developing its own very well indeed.  Good luck to Whitleigh - and Sandy - for more future successes.

Pseudonyms

Is a pseudonym - or several pseudonyms worthwhile?  In my view yes, it is.  The reasons are various but many writer's like to feel their work stands alone from the day job.  For those fortunate enough not to have to work, a pseudonym is often still worthwhile as it allows an escape hatch into their ideas. 

At a Writer's Convention in Bristol, sat amongst other writer's I was surprised at how many people wrote under fictitious names.  The lady sat on my left hand side was a well known writer of romantic novels.  In the course of conversation it turned out she was also a fully qualified accountant working from home and her husband was a GP.  Living in a rural village in Cambridgeshire (I'll give no more away here!) she didn't want to be the focus of local gossip or bothered by people asking endless questions about her next book or plot.  She wanted to get on with her main day job (Accountant), her domestic life (wife to a GP and mother to two teenagers) and - oh - of course - a Writer too!

Behind me another lady - in a most resplendent hat - was a highly successful historical novelist.  Again, her 'writing' name was also a pseudonym and she is lucky enough to have a holiday cottage in Devon where she goes to write.  Her real home is several counties away.

Lots of writer's and poets adopt another name to free them up from any expectations.  After all, Jean Plaidy, Victoria Holt and Philippa Carr were one and the same person.  William Trevor is really William Trevor Cox.  Even Elena Ferrante is another author by another name but nobody knows who.  She (or he) has created a modern Italian mystery by hiding their real identity.

Am I Ruth Snell?  In some ways yes, although several of you will know me as someone else.

Creative Writing Workshop on Russian Literature and it's importance to Western Literary Culture

Last year I ran a creative writing workshop near Plymouth where we focused on the styles of the Russian writers.  Each literary gem has something to teach us.

The first image of Russia is one of bleak Siberian winters, heavy fur coats, Communism and the Kremlin.  Scratch behind this imagery and you will find something far different.  All of this is reflected in their highly successful literature which stands as a classic on the world stage.

What is their technique?  Don't forget many writers who put their feelings onto paper were locked up and/or disappeared under the Communist regime.  Some will say things haven't changed.  However, as artists we are not here to judge that per se.  We just want to look and enjoy.

If you want to get started on a good Russian short story then look no further than Anton Chekhov.  His short story The Cherry Orchard stands alone as a wonderful work of art which grasps the cusp of change in 'old' Russia when we see that a family hanging onto old, traditional standards are 'in the way' of financial property development.  It shows the first type of capitalism entering Russia when the poor peasant is no longer poor.  Servant turned master and all the rest of it.  At the end of the story, only the truly traditional servant is left caring about the family, the house and the orchards.  Money talks.

At school, a truly wonderful teacher of Literature, Mrs Barbara Allen, took us through some of the work of Nikolay Vasilyevich Gogol.  Gogol carries something into his work which makes us all look at ourselves from time to time.  He puts his finger on the pulse of human frailties.  If you haven't read any of his work then it's worth a try.

Russian Flash Fiction?  How about reading some of the work of Mikhail Mikhailovich Zoshchenko to give you a stunning overview.  Quick reads such as The Bathhouse, The Galosh and The Hat are food for thought.

In Russia it was important to be successful in both the short story form and poetry before even contemplating the novel.  It was a true marathon.  So, if you haven't yet looked at Russian literature then it is worth a go and is something more accessible than you think.

Creative Writing Workshop at Whitleigh Words Festival

A sincere thank you to everyone who came along to the Japanese Poetry Workshop on Saturday 4 July 2015 as part of the Whitleigh Words Festival.  A group of people who barely knew each other were blended and revitalized by studying some of the methods of Haiku, Tanka, Haibun and Renga.  This was just a brief introduction into the mysteries of Japanese poetry but one which was enjoyed by all.  We also took time to explore and discuss the history of Japanese literature and the ancient culture which supports it.  It is a complex subject and not one which can be fully analysed in a couple of hours but I trust the handouts helped.

Sincere thanks to Sandy Wager, Organizer of the Whitleigh Words Festival for her succinct administration of this event and other activities going on in Whitleigh.   Don't forget folks that Whitleigh has been a thriving suburb of Plymouth for 65 years.  In fact the key reason for the Festival was to celebrate that era of time from when the first foundation stones were laid.  Prior to that, Whitleigh was sprawling farmland consisting of many green acres and traditional farm buildings.

Sadly Whitleigh Hall was knocked down just after the war which is a pity because like most manor houses in Plymouth, it would have enhanced the currently desired City of Culture status very well. But in those immediate post-war years, like all the Plymouth based manors, it was seen as a sign of capitalist living and not emblematic of socialism, so down it came.  And now the Council want to apply for City of Culture status ... when the backbone of its history was wilfully destroyed .... by the .... Council ... while they keep the grotty Civic Centre Council House (circa late 1950s) standing as a listed building.  You couldn't make it up if you tried.

P.S.  I'm glad they don't work for me.