“Here’s the mould of a musical bird long passed from light,
Which over the earth before man came was winging;”–Hardy, T.
Today I volunteered at a creative writing workshop in Exeter’s Royal Albert Memorial Museum. It was organised to commemorate the writing of Thomas Hardy, who, in 1915, visited the RAMM and wrote a poem entitled In a Museum. It was not long after the death of his wife, who had loved Devon, and it is likely that he would have been in mourning when he wrote this poem.
Here’s the mould of a musical bird long passed from light,
Which over the earth before man came was winging;
There’s a contralto voice I heard last night,
That lodges with me still in its sweet singing.
Such a dream is Time that the coo of this ancient bird
Has perished not, but is blent, or will be blending
Mid visionless wilds of space with the voice that I heard,
In the full-fugued song of the universe unending.
To me this poem deals with loss, primarily, while also commenting on evolutionary succession and the continuance of life in all forms. The theme of music is clearly very important, and Hardy also questions the function of time when he calls it a “dream”. But enough analysis, much as I love it.
During this creative writing workshop, we were given the opportunity to do some free writing, as inspired by the four birds, Seagull, Robin, Magpie and Crow. The exercise involved us writing about the birds in a way that diverged from the very common stereotypes and associations we hold with them. It was this that inspired me to write this poem, which is rough and only a first draft. I wanted to attack the image of the Robin as a bringer of goodwill and happiness and its associations with Christmas.
Quick, slick, strutting little prick.
Thinks he’s everything, thinks he’s got it all.
A robin, prancing as the snow begins to fall.
Don’t make me laugh, you’re nothing special.
Of course he fools them, en masse he does.
Oh yes! A gentleman! Of the finest sort!
So, many conquests of his have thought.
The worms, he cruelly drags from the enveloping earth.
He took her. How could he.
My pet, my property, my prize.
Seen as nothing, in his eyes.
Quick, slick, the robin is a total dick.
I just thought that I would post this, not only to share the quick poem, but to revel in how easy it is to find inspiration, and how we have such amazing places all around us, museums, libraries, galleries, with which to ignite something deep inside us. Too often do these opportunities for creativity go unnoticed.
Til next time,
Stay Hydrated.
What’s going on…in my mind?