Sunday, 11 May 2008

Old is good

The way up to Hameldown tor from Grimspound
One of the views from the top

Molly and Albert on top of the world

Rolling jays on rolling hills
In misty places topped with tors
Walking dogs, talking kids
Moorland cattle, moorland horse-s

Giants games from long ago
Created scattered, sculptured stone
Ancient homes still in their shade
Reminding me of where I come

If ever there was such a place
Where pixies dance to solstice dreams
It’s here with twisted lichened trees
Between the tors and tumbling streams

A distant memory arises
Sitting cushioned on the moss
Remembering another time
All we had all we lost

The big picture, the big sky
Endless clouds, endless green
Split by distant ravens cries
The highest of the devon scenes

The granite rocks and clear running streams are a feature in Dartmoors ragged beauty.This is half way from the road to the early iron age site of grimspound. One of the many hut remains within the outer wall of the settlement.because the top half of the dwellings would have been made of wood and mud and the roof thatched so only the stone lower walls remain.
unfortunately the picture doesn't show the curved entrance into this hut designed to keep out the dartmoor winds.
Albert and his cousin Joel guarding the ancient entrance into the compound

here you can see the whole of the compound from Hamel down tor.
The fete went okay,met some interesting,interested people ,gave out a few cards and will be appearing in the local paper again,always a good advert.
Doug thanks again Buddy.


doug fitch said...

a pleasure

Becky said...

Breathtaking photos, Paul. I see your back to blogging in a big way. The poem is beautiful. My husband ( who lived in England for 3 years ) said it captures the essence of what it is to be there, if even for so short a time. Have visited twice myself. The week spent in the English countryside well outweighed the week spent in London. Thanks for a lovely reminder. And I do hope the cards you passed out at the fete will bear fruit.

paul said...

Because I come from the softer more wooded East of the county, I always loved the contrast of the moors and still do .I'm glad you have had a taste of our countryside and not just seen the concrete places.Next time I go to Mums I will take pics and show you the difference there.

Michael Kline said...

Wow! Outstanding. I've never been to your neck of the woods. It would be a great pleasure. Someday.

Is that a haiku??? Maybe not...
Thanks for the vritual walk

paul said...

nice of you to make contact michael.Have checked out your blog. great stuff !Having a few pooter problems at the moment but would love to have a link to you if that would be okay,most potters i've met have liked the odd bit of poetry.Odd possibly been the word.

applewood lampshade


Its in the memory of birds this age
The post on which to perch to proclaim mornings glory
the spots of the past where the pickings are richest
the ancestors favourites ,the old places

Its in the roots of the trees this age
As they suck in the leaves as they fall
with some knowledge returning to earth to roots
to nature,to nurture, to be reborn

its in the stones the oldness
the mothers bones exposed less
where moss and lichens creeping hand paints steadily
and the birdsong is distant like fading memories

About Me

My photo
deepest, devon, United Kingdom
I don't know what I am but i know what i like.poetry, art and chipping at or joining together chunks of old wood,whilst listening to some good roots reggae or dub, world/folk music or blues all balanced by some good old punk rock.

solid oak post 3.5 feet high

rescued from collapsed original part of house in the dombseday book

I started with the natural bursts as eyes and soon got two faces

East,West Forwards and Back the green man is everywhere

The darker colours are the oxidisation of the exposed bits of outer timber over the many years

this piece took two months to carve.An allowance i made to myself for the first 2 months of this year.

which way to mordor