writers group recommences 2013

The writers’ group will recommence for 2013 in February, running the 1st and 3rd Fridays of the month at 7.15 pm. This group is run by an experienced writer and teacher. It is an opportunity to learn, express, improve skills, and share in a supportive group. Exercises are mixed will open participation. In 2013 will will start looking at the long text or writing piece. We study narration, structure and narrative forms, and then move on the closer attention to language and poetry.

All are welcome – you do not need to be published or experienced.  The workshops will benefit all and are very affordable! Come with pen and paper on night! $15 attendance.

ring Elaine 0433760005

(We practice with poetry, dialogue and prose – three poetry samples included below. We plan to include more writing samples here – watch this space!

Writing samples 

LATE ARVO AT COALCLIFF by Barbara Allen (extract)

 

Enduring shore break

Rhythmic, soothing

Continues unrestful

Paddle-footed gulls

March in a row

Across pebbles over weed

Move up and down

Call to each other

Stop, stand proud, puffed chests

Red legs contrast

Blackened coarse sand

Silently and single handed

Lone kayaker paddles forth metronomic

Kayak of orange, bright and sleek

Two alpha males

Promenade the foreshore

Pick their way along

Bodies and boards cleansed

Freshly showered trudging up

Rubber thongs with melodic ditty

Over slippery, mossy, slimy bedrock

Threesome trek

Tidal critters cringe

Fear of demolition

Calming gentle water

Swaying, enticing

Foamy and crisp

Three young senoritas

Traverse the coarseness

Pause

Thongs down, feet in

Chatter in unison

Walk in time

Friendship obbligato

Red floral maxi woman

Hat of khaki

Wait patiently by the water’s edge

Calmly smoking

Venture into the surf

Dip your head

Flick and slick your hair

Bikini exposed, adjusted

Pause, turn around

Where’s your butt?

Where’s your beloved?

Strolling young man at far end of shore

Where do you come from?

Where do you go?

Moon Poem no 4.    By Darien Midwinter.  7-08-2012

Moon
Collector of cliché
Hoarder of hyperbole

Nonchalantly,
you stretch out
your languid, milky hand
as if to test the air
and feign disinterest
when yet another
compliment falls in it.
Casually you brush it off
as if a straying flying-ant.

But we see where it goes…

Moon,
tender ears
ringed with songs from silvered tongues,
fragile fingers
drooping with polished poetic gems,
delicate neck
laden with elegantly strung superlatives,
fulsome bosom
swelling with love letters tucked away.

Offhandedly,
you flick up
your flaxen head
as if to shift a wayward hair,
and field this latest folly
in your mille-fiore garland,
crowded with flowery load.
Seeming unaware you shimmer
Cooly and becomingly

But we see you are aglow…

Moon
Enticer of entreaty,
devourer of desire,
keeper of callow cupidity.

Your energy is entropy

your pallid courting
is in vain.
You hug others’ glory
unto yourself,
bask not in your own shine.
Ungenerous lover,
soliciting insouciant,
ever reflecting, never giving.

Moon
We know you are alone

‘On the flat platform of rock’ by Geoffrey Sykes

A few barely noticed mid afternoon bodies prostrate

Themselves on unforgiving final outcrop of land

Before the oceanic vastness of swells and laps at the feet

The obligatory stroking of sun on the back then front

Precedes the immersion in a chilled pool

Without talk, without reason, without looking

The few supplicants to natural blessing take their isolated turn

Stripped of clothing and other company

A ritual of repose if not something deeper, intangible, overwhelming

The habitual yet always unaccustomed

meeting of the human with another realm

Known with unknown, become with becoming,

Smaller crustated rock pools have been here for a generation and more before that

And over there, on the platform, huge rocks split vastly

measure ancient time in their own supplication

Yet the long trembling sculpturing waves have barely begun

To beat the time of day, as a slow rhythm begins,

In the chill of watery surround, bodies slide into a salt blessed future

For a time they are freed of themselves, they move outside history

They are formed and reformed by a moving, monumental  sea-born mystery.

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