All posts tagged: shropshire

Bard On Blore Heath – #DVersePoetics

One paragraph for all the lost bodies, somewhere still beneath dirt and grass and the slow trundle of grazing cattle meandering, one fence line to another.   Musket balls get plucked up on odd days, rolled across a palm like a marble, dropped into a Tupperware tub, they outlasted the bones and flesh.   A field with five hundred years to forget yet the calf gets sick with lead loses its eyesight to a pellet from a gun fired half a century before.   History reaches past its paragraph of three thousand nameless men. Another misery of litter leftover once the war was done. Following tonight’s theme of smoke and mirrors, and feeling like the older you get, the less you actually know, I started thinking about how we learn about the history of warfare in schools. There’s a disconnect between the modern day and its wars, and battles such as the one at Bloor Heath* in Staffordshire where around three thousand men are thought to have died in the fighting. It’s easy to look …

If These Walls Could Talk

There is still the echo of cannon-fire tucked inside the alcoves the shadow of men with broadswords across the window ledges, whispers of skirts on floorboard, creaking corsets and stubborn doors, muted conversations, murmured lovers’ words, and the echo of a family, some gone, some misplaced, some safe. We remember the thrum of armies, where they marched on stone, on grass, on soil. Where we lay, were built, and fell, where you now walk on summer days when the sun is high and bright, and there was nothing else much to do but visit local sights. We will stand here still, until the years pass on too far, and then there will be no stories for us to tell and no walls to talk anymore. Don’t entirely sure what I think of this piece as my brain’s a little fried from working on Shadow Dawn for the last four hours. Day one of NaNoWriMo done, twenty-nine left to go. Anyway, I was going to give poetics a miss tonight but the prompt ‘if these walls …

Ditherington Flax Mill – Grandfather To Skyscrapers?

Have you ever had one of those moments where you feel so proud of your own local knowledge that you haven’t got a clue what to do with yourself when it turns out you were wrong? It’s soul crushing. In that moment being a hedgehog sounds like a fantastic idea because curling into yourself seemed like the only way you could possibly escape the shame. “Hey, you know the Maltings? Did you know it was the first iron framed building in the world!” No. No it was not. It isn’t even completely iron framed but that doesn’t bother me quite as much as being told I was wrong about the ‘first ever’ claim, or that I’d been proudly toting it as my tip-bit of cool history from my native soil of Shropshire whenever I got the chance. For those of you who don’t know, the Maltings are a building in Shrewsbury, Shropshire. Half an hour drive from where I live when I’m at home with my parents, this crumbling building is something of a National …

Cup Of Tea Anyone?

Determined not to be beaten by the power cuts here in Shropshire my mother decided that she could boil water on top of our little log burner in the sitting room. After about three hours of playing cards by candlelight the water was just about hot enough to make a cuppa. Not the best tasting tea apparently, but it was something.