Horned God of Sherwood Forest
Magnificent in soft gold October light,
a crowned stag in autumn rut,
proud twelve tined rack of antler,
thick maned ruff spiked with mud,
enhancing full blooded mass of muscled neck,
with gait and stance of a conqueror, he
paws the ground, roars, guttural,
sniffing, strutting, gauging the strength of his opponent,
pacing, parallel, then
locking antlers
clashing with elemental potency.
An atavistic appeal to primeval instincts,
shamanism and shape changing,
ancient masks and Mummers plays,
a Horn Dance, clash of wooden staves,
antlered heads invoking
Herne the Hunter, Pan the Horned God,
Cernunnos, god of the wildwood,
surviving in rituals of stag night revels,
transgressive Saturnalia
disrupting an ordered world.
Sue Mackrell
Ancient Oak of Sherwood Forest
Skeletal relic of wildwood, a Tau of forked limbs,
dead branches like stags’ antlers against a steel sky.
And in a trick of light, a green man gazes from goitred
bark,
tree boles stretch, muscular, a sloughed snakeskin,
protean, shape shifting,
hollow tree trunk
a temple pillar between Sky-world and Hades.
acorns, oak apples, lichens, fungi, new leaves at Lammas,
mistletoe cut by druids with golden sickles,
bone dry yet teeming with alchemic transformations,
spangle galls, bark beetles, moths,
a roosting owl, moon-faced, flies up, an apparition.
And on dry, fissured bark a purple butterfly
alights, bright, shining like an enamelled brooch,
a psyche, a soul spirit.
Sue Mackrell
Yule Fires
Smoke tang on ice tinged air,
flames flicker red, frosted
buds drip as
green-wood, snaps and spits,
an oak brand thrust into heart-fire is
borne high, sparks arcing against the dark,
to kindle hearth-fire, sanctuary from
bone chill of midwinter.
Sue Mackrell
Winter Solstice
Winter solstice eve, the
night of the yew,
runic marks of bare
trees stark black against a pewter sky.
In the space between
the dark falling in the west
and the eastern dawn
rising, a stasis, a tension,
time suspended until
the sun rises low on the horizon,
lightening,
imperceptibly, an opaque gauze of mist,
revealing a filigree
of frosted ferns emerging into the brightening day.
Sue Mackrell
Zig Zag
Sometimes the world has to zig zag,
veering, veering,
unsure which way to go.
Sometimes the world ploughs a straight furrow;
determined, determined,
positive that it is right.
The world never stops moving,
moving, moving,
restless, eager; a living entity.
We are puny
what can we do against this force?
Puny, pony,
we can do nothing but accept and
enjoy.
Let us bring our voices and
chatter and wish it well.
Stevie
30/01/2012 Stapleford Carnegie Centre
Instant Theatre: Creating a Myth for Stapleford’s Mini Major Oak
(with thanks to Matt and Alli for photography and frantic scribbling)
(with thanks to Matt and Alli for photography and frantic scribbling)
Prologue
Three hundred years from now, on what is currently known as the Stapleford recreation ground, there will exist a forest of elm trees. These elms will become mutated, growing in all directions, ravaged by the nuclear winds that left the continent under a permanent cloud. However, on the edge of this nuclear wind swept forest there will something miraculous: an upright, three hundred year old mini major oak (so called, because it was grown from an acorn from the Major Oak). This is the only place for thousands of miles that the seasons still pass and the grey cloud does not linger. Because of this, visitors from all over the universe, whether exotic aliens or schoolchildren, come to see this magical tree and life as it once was. On touching the great oak a person knows the name Robin Hood which to those that experience it feels as if it stands for the past.
In order to visit the tree, which is known as the Virgin oak, people must book a package holiday as well as purchase a special pair of white plastic boots from an exclusive online factory. These boots allow safe passage through the radiated forest and can only be taken off three steps from the Virgin oak. Unbeknownst to all is that Richard Branson is behind both these enterprises, hence the oak’s title, and is making a(nother) fortune! He has been spreading the word of the miracle from his space station in which he has been immortalised.
Section one
One day word of this tree reached a two feet tall green being by the name of Bob. What Bob lacked in height he made up in limbs with three to four legs and four arms, all retractable. Another remarkable fact of Bob’s existence was his ability to teleport which he decided to use to investigate the rumours he was hearing about this remarkable phenomena. On arriving at the forest of the elms Bob began to approach the mysterious oak, noticing how he lacked the white boots worn by all the other gatherers. He used his extra limbs to barge past those waiting in line impatient to see what all the fuss was about. But when he made his way to the front he felt disappointed, wondering what was so special about this place. Bob left discouraged but the next day resolved to go back to the virgin oak, to give it one last chance. On his return to the forest Bob started to think that the people he saw around him were actually more interesting than the oak itself. Overcome by this fascination he began sucking out their brains! After a few helpings of grey matter Bob’s own brain could hardly take the influx of information and all his arms started to flail uncontrollably. On seeing these dramatic events a sense of panic swarmed the crowd and they dispersed waiting for this strange fellow to touch the tree believing that would surely calm him down. However, the tree decided not to wait for Bob to touch it, instead reaching out a branch to the thrashing Bob, knowing there had already been too much destruction.
Section two
On contact with the tree’s outstretched branch, remorse swept through Bob and he was suddenly invigorated with a desire to save this planet that he was on. The oak’s leaves turn a vivid green as if in the most heightened spring of its long life. At the same time the perma-fog around the forest was thinning out and instinctively Bob extended his arms towards the distorted elms which one by one were restored to a healthy state, while the sound of creaking wood filled the ears of all watching. Bob looked down at the poor mindless people he had attacked and forced himself to regurgitate their undigested brains in order to restore them also. As the people awakened they noticed how very different the woods looked which caused them to go into a fit of panic, due to its strangeness, and they ran away. Bob shouted after them to leave their white boots in the hope that by covering his many hands and feet he would look akin to the people, appearing less formidable. Too frightened to refuse him, the people dropped the boots, however Bob’s plan was unsuccessful and the people persisted in their terror. Watching the confusion and the panic play out around it the virgin oak felt great frustration and its leaves all frizzled up and dropped to the floor. The virgin oak was dying. As everyone around became aware of what was happening, a unanimous feeling that they must live rushed through the people, who were sad to witness the great tree’s fate. In a great celebration they chopped down the virgin oak and burnt its remains. At this point Bob pulled out a packet of marshmallows from his pocket, which were later referred to as virgin marshmallows, and toasted them on the blazing fire with a sense that all had turned out for the best and at least the people were nice.
THE END
Questions provoked when walking with Dave
Three leaden footed walkers dragging
The past into the present with each stride,
Sherwood’s 1662 parameter traversed in stages,
Through manicured streets now gentrified,
When whereabouts, in Saxon times, the grubbing livestock
Stunk high to heaven, and grim clustering farmsteads
Dared to stand stark against a wilderness of foliage.
Here lived Eorphere of Epperstone,
Strong and bold in his demesne,
Gunnulf of Gonalaston, and Hluda of Lowdham,
And incomer Norseman, Kati of Caythorpe,
Toilers all in hard-to-work lands heavy with clay clods,
But champions, each one, of better living.
Did the wan sunlight mellow your backs
As it does ours today, pre-glistening ragged
Hedgerows before hard frost comes?
And did your feet feel rooted as ours do now.
Driving your heavy-plough oxen hour on hour.
Or lumbering homeward with autumn gale branches
To kindle your kind against the coming snow?
And did you trap trout along the rippling bend of
That old trespasser, the River Trent,
As flasked modern anglers do, squatting on their stools,
Searching the same eddies known to Celts?
Did you scoop those gasping, shimmering scales
Onto the same grassy banks that we now stride?
This morning’s muscle-bound four-wheel-drives
Skip down lanes first channeled by nonchalant kine
Traipsing to safety of twilight byre, or Yuletide slaughter.
County Council seats for long bus stop waits
Now edge the road because they ‘love investing in community’
Long after ‘community’ has vanished behind affluent walls
And Cross Keys pub proclaims new management.
Ornate Victorian piles and ancient barns
Put on double-glazed splendour,
And only the tottering dovecote is left
Bereft of comfort in its cold and lonely field.
Slender church spires still point triumphantly
To fleecy clouds and God, where once only
Mud and thatch stood proud, and humble poor song psalms.
And were you all in awe of life
And pondering, as we three walkers are?
And did you ever scrutinise the present
For evidence of forebears?
Or did you barely stumble from one day to the next
Without a thought of teeming generations
And heritage, simply grateful to survive?
And did your demons drag you down to hell
Because you only lightly fingered faith but failed
To get a hand-hold of the slippery life-line
Which the fumbling priest dangled before your eyes?
And when you're unmarked, shadowed grave lay fallow,
Were they right to claim you slept in peace?
Or did you find salvation along the mucky furrows,
Or band upon band of waving summer corn?
Or heaven with your flaxen headed wife
And string of bawling babes,
Born by glowing hearth on straw-strewn floor,
Genetic markers and a growing clan?
Questions provoked when walking rough with Dave
In highways and byways and sun-lit autumn tracks.
Plodding time questions of parentage and place,
Of cyclic seasons, continuity and change.
Questions which resonate in forest fringe
Settlements still scattered round the old shire.
Questions of people, purpose, origin and destination,
Asking how we three pilgrims should pick our way
Frank Luckcock
ELIZABETH – EPPERSTONE RECTOR’S WIFE
Her hatchment hung high in the nave
When they lowered her six foot deep
By the south curvilinear window
As the parish wore black for a week
Christopher Raleigh Sefton, 1725
Mourned to the depths of his soul,
Bereft of his charming help-meet
Who’d endeared herself to all.
She had given her smiles to the gentry
And to the poor man at the gate,
She’d smoothed the village matrons
Of high and low estate.
Raised always to be submissive,
Accepting her husband’s word
As if he were God almighty
However false or absurd.
She’d bitten her tongue when it mattered
And blithely turned her cheek,
Simply trusting God’s promise:
‘The world will be had by the meek.’
Submerged ‘neath layers of virtue
And pious sedimentary belief,
To be lying just six feet under
Came as a frank relief.
Frank Luckcock
[no title]
I’m on the right track,
Trav’ling with coal on my back.
A place to belong.
Helen Davies
THE GLEISON MINE TRAGEDY
A TRIBUTE TO THE GLEISION MINERS WHO LOST THEIR LIVES
Gleision mine lay derelict for years
But to brave Welsh miners it held no fears
It had suffered water problems in the past
But to make conditions workable it couldn’t be done fast
The re-opened mine was just about making it pay
To do this the men were working their hearts out day after day
These miners worked deep under the Welsh hills
To bring up their families and pay the bills
It was a bright September morning when seven men entered the mine
Everything appeared to be absolutely normal and fine
Little did they realise what was to follow
And that four of the team would see no tomorrow
An unforeseen disaster was about to hit
When thousands of gallons of water flooded the pit
A miner’s worst fear is to be buried alive
But only three of the team would find there way out and survive
The alarm was raised by the miners that escaped from the deep
Families of those still trapped were to gather and weep
Rescue Service teams, two hundred plus, came from far and wide
Hoping upon hope the trapped men had found somewhere to hide
They worked tirelessly day and night in mud, sludge and slime
Hoping and praying they would reach the trapped miners in time
The shattered families prayed and waited for news of any kind
The torment they went through must have send them out of their mind
Their spirits and faith must have began to fade and ebb
When the first trapped miner was found and reported dead
Not only was one of their community deceased
But the name of the miner could not be released
They and the world could only watch and wait
For it would be many hours before they knew the missing mens fate
When news finally came through that all the trapped miners were dead
It filled pit communities with heartache, sympathy and dread
This was the outcome we all feared but dared not to say
It was for all concerned a very, very sad day
Our hearts went out to all the families in their grief
For they had shown tremendous strength, courage and belief
Mining communities throughout the land
Would sympathise, mourn and understand
R.I.P. - Philip Hill - Charles Breslin - David Powell - Gary Jenkins
Bob & Julia Collier, October 2011
Clones and Arrows – the Instant Theatre story of Robin Hood from The Barncroft Centre, Chilwell.
The audience included 27 adults with mixed ages and with differing learning abilities and with some physical disabilities. Staff were also involved. The story was created by a combination of the two and acted out collectively.
Robin Hood was only six years old but he was already married to Jane (who was fifty); in fact, because he was cloned by his parents, each of the clones had been married to the same woman. This was Jane’s third marriage to the same boy but each one different. The production of this particular boy occurred one hundred years previous to their death. Robin was not an outlaw yet but he could have been a shoplifter…
It was a Monday at 6pm in the centre of (the currently) chilly Sherwood Forest. Robin was firing arrows at a target while Jane watched him through the window.
Coming through the woods was Maid Marian with her ten children; all of them wanted to make friends with Robin.
Not only but also, the Sheriff of Nottingham was also in the woods. He took Robin off to a nearby dungeon and hanged him; there was no reason for this other than the Sherriff’s mean-ness.
Jane, Marian and the ten children managed to get hold of the key and get his body at least. They dug him a hole in the ground in the forest and that’s were they put him. As they fired arrows over at (and killing) some one hundred guards at the castle, Robin rose back to life again; it was the arrows that did it!
The ten children killed four more guards with arrows and swords. This upset Robin greatly and took his stick and beat the ten children he had just dubbed his merry men (or children!). Meanwhile, the wind blew, the chill continued and the rain poured.
Walking stick, where are you?
On a bus? or in a car?
By the church? or at a bench?
Leaving you does not make sense!
Label you with name and number!
Hold you tightly with my thumb ... err!
Rod
Poems from Young Archaeologists’ Writing session on 29th October 2011
Sweet corn
Crooked tree
Windy
Tom Smith
Pillage, village
Pillage, village, hills
Heavens opening
300 spartans
grass grass grass also grass
fort, windy, gusts
George
A hill fort is our last resort
We find a mound and make a bound
Haddon Smith
Matt smith and Dr Who covers my wall – ummm
I love my friend Natasha v.muchly
My school is far away …uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhh
I love Xmas there – (Santa) ho ho ho
Can I have a nose warmer? Um
Is evil – my brother he
Un-named
Matt Smith is so fit
But my school is far away
My bro is evil
Un-named
I love my home warm
There’s never a dull moment cosy
Happy family garden patch
Solo
Calm
Safe
Lucy Russon
Near a farm
Lovely
Happy
Lots of things to do
Mum
Eat
Un-named
Mess all around house
Lots of lovely flowers
Smells like bacon
Un-named
I like my bedroon
Family living happily
We have a veg patch
And a patio
I like living with them
My home
Grace
I like my bedroom
Family living happily
Picking vegetables
Grace
The person that re-built their house next door is very dum
The hammers are so noisy – why?
I hate noises – humph
But do you know what it smells like? Poo
But the flower in the window has a stem
But the builders are old – oh I’m fill of shame
Next door is very dumb
I really hate noise lots humph
Hammers are noisy
Un-named
I am very cold now loam
My home is great happy
I love to eat at my home uh
Lego fills my room
Loo
Vroom
Fate
Un-named
The smell of cooking in my kitchen yum
Children shouting as they play
The taste of my bacon sandwich
The doorbell rings “hello”
Housework, the never-ending stream
This sums up my home
Jenni, Rob, Sharon
I like to be nice and warm
Fi is untidy
Sundays I like a bath
My house was built a long time ago
Lego in every room
There’s no place like home
Amanda
My home aint a slum
It is quite cosy
Living upon beacon high
I cold not imagine who
Would never not dream
Of living elsewhere
High upon beacon hill
Living aong the eagles
Have not a care
Glyn
I like my home em
I really like my home oh yay
I do like my home yah
I live over the hill ooo!
I like the food yum yum
I like my family home
George
erunaM
eert wolley
home sweet emoH
dO
to maim
george
George Burrage
I have a nice bedroom
I eat will and alos sleep well
I [not legible] ing
George Burrage
Warm
Happy
Hearth
Piano
Claim
Comfortable
Warn and cosy armchairs
Nice and comfortable for me
As I watch the tv
No name
My community is small. I live with my mum. We work hard from dawn to dusk but we are happy. It’s not what you do but who you do it with. What does not get done today, will get done tomorrow. Those who do not help we condemn. My house is made from a tree.
Haddon and Christine Smith
I live with my mum
I sit with the open fire
My house is very snug
Haddon and Christine Smith (?)
Toasted sandwiches with cheese and ham
Roast beef and Yorkshires on a Sunday
Apple Pie and custard makes me go ahh
Walking it off, where to go to
A walk in the sun, dad buys ice cream
Chocolate on our face now, my brother and me
Ben Potter
Roast beef, cheese and ham
Apple pie walking it off
A walk in the sun
Ben Potter
Scenery so beautiful
Happiness
Evergreen
Ridiculous – the way that hawthorn grows
Weird people at the bottom of the hill – scary!
Orange, red and brown leaves
Oak Major
Desert of green
First and last lines – Heloise Francis
Silly people sitting on a windy hill
Heading onwards – where’s the trees?
Edward the confessor- random king time!
Robin Hood shoots deer here
Windy trees
Oak trees
Outlaws lurking
Defending the camp
First and last lines – Sue Rodgers
Sherwood
Hiding from the sheriff
Even the paths betray me – I’m lost!
Ravens – big birds there!
Woods galore – rich in colour
Oak
Old Wood
Death
First and last lines – CW
Sunshine through the trees
Hurried whispers
Exciting
Rabbits running in the grass
Woodland stretching far and wide
Open spaces
Outing
Demonstrating the natural colour
First and last lines – Ben Potter
Smith, Matt – should film Dr Who there
Having fun
Erie wind
Rolling hills
Windy hilltops
Oak trees reaching to the sun
Options
Damn freezing up here
First and last lines – FMW/Mrs Fiona
Sheep
Hills rolling in the distance
Eagles swooping across the sky
Red leaves falling from the trees
Woody
Oak trees
Old oaks stretching into the sky
Dark wood
First and last lines – Isabella.S
Shire
Horse Chestnut trees big and tall
Envious animals
Rolling hills and rushing wind
We’re here – like fools sitting on the hill
Oh dear I’m cold
Only biggest forest I know
Dungeons of Sherwood Castle
First and last lines – GB
Sheep being shorn
Herd of sheep
Elm trees standing strong
Robins flying
Watching the autumn change the colour of the leaves
O blimey – we’re getting poetic
I’m bloody freezing
Damp wood
First and last lines – George.
Sheriff of Nottingham
Hood
Evil end of Hood
Robin Hood
Wild berries ripening in the wind
Obvious trees
Over the hills
Detection hidden
Stepping out in the forest
Hares jumping everywhere
Eveyone’s happy
Robin hood
Wood a lot of trees
Oak trees blowing in the wind
Odd shaped trees
Deer bounding through the glen
First and last lines - Jenni and co
Shared land for mile
Houses dotted on the landscape
Exciting
Robin hood
Woodland from me to the horizon
Old oak in the woodland
Oak trees staring at me
Don’t get lost
First and last lines – Grace Harrison
Squirrels digging frantically
Huge oak
Exciting time when you’re little
Roots digging beneath the ground
Windy breeze rustling in the forest
Old fields spread out for miles
Obvious trees
Dashing
First and last lines – Lucy Russon
Soldiers
Heroic
Elegance
Rustling of leaves
Wooden Sculptures
Owls hooting
Ooo my goodness – it’s cold
Deep dark deep dark
First and last lines – Tom Smith
Haiku from Lowdham to Burton Joyce
The gate swings both ways
You can come and you can go
It suits all people
Sun shining on us
Traffic zooms past on the road
But still we’re smiling
Small church on the hill
Locked door, gravestones, fields around
Gate with magic hinge
I tidy them up
Signs – ‘Duck Eggs’ Quail Eggs
No longer hanging from here
Still I duck and quail
Chris Cann
Haiku from Lowdham to Burton Joyce
On pathfinder bus
Lowdham due ten forty three
Soon see Bert and Joyce
Lowdham starting point
Walking through to Burton Joyce
On the A six twelve
Coffee in lay by
Picnic bench with lady birds
Geocache in tree
Little church on hill
Swinging gate with double hinge
Fun for Dave and Chris!
What is Willow Wong?
When we reach today’s walk’s end
Bert and Joyce are paired
Rod
Four Paintings from Anne Chalkley © at Annesely
Poems from Kirkby library workshop
haiku
Kingsmill reservoir
Sunshine and rain
Rainbow bridge, love
(individual)
haiku
clouds gather water heaves
boats sink
love’s a mirage
always
(group)
haiku
sunshine, rain, rainbow
bridge to love, peaceful mirage
always in our heart
(individual)
inspiration (haiku)
ode to poetry
haiku, something new to learn
I have done it. Yes!
Library to home (tanka)
Learn, relax, enjoy
A place of discovery
Car journey, lorries
Queues, traffic lights, stop and start
Glad to be home at last, safe
Gillian Baguley
Haiku
I saw a red leaf
Just absolutely wondrous
But it was dying
Anneseley Hall forlorn
Reminder of tragedy
At midnight ghosts walk
Aaargh - I start running
(group)
Haiku
I’m Morocco bound
Sahara, atlas mountains
Berber village
Tanka
I’m on my way now
But where do I go today?
Thro’ the plantation?
Over the annesely hills?
Naw – down to the Badger Box
Eileen
Haiku
Attenborough – the gravel pits
In Attenborough
Washed by lagoons
A heron flies away
beauty
gravel pits worked out
hero flies from washed lagoon
water, bird, beauty
(group)
From Beeston – Your Bus
Victoria by Rainbow
Through Sherwood Forest
To Kirkby by the Nag’s Head
Library and Poetry
In Kirkby Library
Creative writing workshop
Haiku is result
Coal is dug and burnt
Headstocks wind the cage no more
Gone are the miners
Rod
Haiku
Old friend demolished
Stranger steps into the breech
The future is bright
(Group)
Tanka
The place I love best
Safe haven and shared shielding
To depart when needs arise
Pavements and streets travelled
Obstacles surmounted – there
Pens and paper ready
People set eager minds prised
Inspiration stutters
Barry Shipley
Haiku
human octagon
every friendly faces sharing
sweet companionship
Haiku
Moonlit wooden bridge
Playing pooh sticks with barge poles
Troll knocked unconscious
(group)
Haiku
spider on her web
blackbird spies early dinner
seconds – no spider
Holiday
Pressures of work build
Tap a few keys and book break
Packing and sorting
Taxi speeds to the blue ocean
Lying on soft sand – relax
R A Nelson
Walking away
Leaving home I pause
Construction smells of petrol
Dust noise beginnings
The serpentine journey next
Kirkby market freedom last
America
Baseball game well known
Fans fresh air crack of the bat
Childlike feel of home
Ed Rennaeker
a large stone on hill
people touching – hope lives change
all together now
(group)
between home and the allotment
top of cul de sac
busy road – people shopping
something draws me on
digging in the mud – squelch – squelch
one courgette still on
early morning start
a man offers directions
waiting for the bus
Dave
Not contributions to this site, but I thought I'd share this link with you. The Woodland Trust have been highly supportive of the Peramblations.
haiku from walker on recent perambulation
Gleadthorpe Plantatation
Army remains from a time
When war was no game
Thirty miles of grit
Perambulating poet
Left unimpressed
Lane between estates
Common folk may pass along
Unseen, unchallenged
Chicken-of-the-Woods
Legacy of fallen tree
Inspiring after death
Problem with haiku
Sorting rhythm and counting
Sylabububles
haiku from walker on recent perambulation
Gleadthorpe Plantatation
Army remains from a time
When war was no game
Thirty miles of grit
Perambulating poet
Left unimpressed
Lane between estates
Common folk may pass along
Unseen, unchallenged
Chicken-of-the-Woods
Legacy of fallen tree
Inspiring after death
Problem with haiku
Sorting rhythm and counting
Sylabububles
Haiku from Linby to Annesely walkers
Tales of Robin hood
Miners’ memories of coal
Three and a half miles
It isn’t in me
MBTs have got to me
Hot chocolate please
Railway to the right
railway to the left of me
railway under foot
Bob’s empty bucket
Fairground ride across the dirt
Jumping clear – way hay!
Local history
Is very interesting
Some exercise too
Know Dave. Short distance
Good weather forecast too
Problem saying no
Creative results from writing workshop at the Acacia Centre, Anneseley
Group poem - Annesely
We live here in Annesely
With friendly folk and ancient woodland too
It takes a long time to get to Tansley
Walk slowly – take in the wonderful view
Frogs, newts, birds are on the endangered list
Our village heritage our fields and woods
What frogs are there await to be kissed
Protest defiance growth councils kill these buds
Protecting nature with all its power
But many people false protest and cower
Rhythmic notes (haiku) – no author named
Away from Annesley
Is best when winter falls darkly
And days fail their light
To be not heard ever
To be ignored always so
To be trapped in
Right sided acrostic – individual piece – no name
We are surrounded by woods
It’s lovely to walk along the path to the church
We are so lucky to be living here
It’s much nicer to walk than go in the car
The woodland paths are easy to follow
There’s deer in the forest and other animals too
It’s all there free to me and you
Sherwood Forest – the legendary home of Robin hood
Group poem – left sided acrostic
Animals we see at the bottom of our garden
Newts, frogs and other fauna
Number in the hundreds
Each pathway dense – each thought buzzing
Showing nature’s glory
Lasting legacy to our children
Ecology is very important locally
Year by year nature changes many things
Haiku – author unknown
Puts paw in and stirs
Cat around
No more
Haiku – author unknown
Surrounded by woods
So lucky living here
It’s all free to me and you
Sherwood forest robin hood’s home
Three Haiku - author unknown
Fish swimming in bowl
Cat walks by thinks yum yum yum
Paw in bowl fish gone
Don’t kill the trees
Robin Hood walked this forest
They’re all known worldwide
Build no houses here
Hay meadows are rare to find
Wildlife is precious
Group piece
Trees watching and guarding their wood are alive
Looking from the past fearing future growth
Instead of being allowed to live and thrive
The fear keeps hitting back – they’re on death row
The gray lady of Annesley doth wail
It makes your blood run cold and you shiver
The postman’s late again with the mail
I must dash now to eat my onions and liver
Fear is a demon we cannot control
We must remain alert and on patrol
Tanka – Dave Wood
robin hood’s an itch
o but hoodies on the street
talking to the trees
o no – we are endangered
life is stranger the street
Five Haiku – Dave Wood
at the badger box
the corner of derby road
energies re-grouped
deep in the woodland
we know where the path crosses
with another one
simplifying it
somehow it lets us begin
to realise truth
the man in the church
greets us with a cigarette
and history talk
you’re telling of ghosts
how much heritage is there
still yet unspoken?
individual right sided acrostic – dave wood
everyone talks about robin hood’s
shenanigans – we like to scratch the itch'n' list
and shake our fists when we see the hoodie
on the street – life is stranger
now than legends ever show
our life is tv – internet – radio
and talking to the trees – o
that’s daft – is daftness then endangered?
Group left sided acrostic
And finally here I am
Now we can start
Not knowing what the future may hold
Enlist help from local residents
Shops are good , we have all we need
Lived locally many years good people
Eventually we will stop the developers
Yesterday I went on a walk
Tanka – author unknown
Hunted by norman kings
Forest of a bygone age
With knife and longbow
Killed wild boar and tasty game
Extensive forested land
Haiku - author unknown
Ancient church of yore
Its long gone flock sleep peaceably
Moss and lichen slabs
Annesley ley lines
Perambulation
Criss and cross the forest trails
Nuncar peers eastwards
Accepts the rising morning sun
New day’s growth begun
Individual Right sided acrostic – author unknown
Annesley old church
Forest of a bye gone age
Wolves and deer and wild boar
Knife and long bow
View from Nuncar a visual placebo
Sunset from Nuncar what a way to go
Extensive forested land
Group left sided acrostic
An ancient hamlet
Ear to historical places
Never seen the what I’ve never seen
Even when I’m looking
Sounds cloud my thoughts
Loud noise can be heard from Sherwood business park
Entertain our grandchildren and feed the horses
Youth is the bonded apprentice of old age
Group poem
Welcome to Annesley hills – bleak and barren
Protect our ancient heritage for the future
Join together, prevent us being broken
Help us in our fight for mother nature
Nature rolls her eyes – she’s in deep despair
Because all her admirers have gone away weak
What happens now? How will she fare?
The havoc that a building site can wreak
The green of filthy lucre v forests’ pleasant green
The greed of man rules o’er the valley of the Leen
Two Haiku – author unknown
It’s a well known fact
Spooks haunt Annesley hall and grounds
When sun sets beware
Surrounded by trees
Giving off vital oxygen
Annesely breathes fresh air
Group poem
Annesley, green and pleasant wooded land
Right on the edge of Sherwood forest bounds
Sings different songs – ones we understand
Take trails through dark woodland watching black hounds
Old Annesley full of history and spirit
The village pub hears all our thoughts
Birs on our garden will eat their millet
Annesley is the last place to build ports
Annesely on the edge of Sherwood land
Was the home of Robin hood and his band
Individual Tanka – author unknown
Annesley Ice house
Annesley hills scrub and heath
Forest perambulations
A wonderful sight local deer
Osier beds are full of willow
Individual haiku - author unknown
Byron’s inspiration
Annesley and barren
Sherwood’s west outpost
Help save our woodlands
Hay meadows are breathing lungs
Build on brownfield sites
Trees are important
Protect our woods and green fields
Never let them die
Trees stand silently by
Watching and guarding their wood
Enjoy the memory
Annesley hill fort
Watching over the flat Leen valley
Enjoy the view
Group poem
Annesley, two churches one old one new
The badger box – one family pub is crossed
Annesley history trails that people do
Many tales which unfortunately will be lost
Our minds pushed further back by pressures of today
We must not forget our history, heritage
Annesley hills looking west catch the rays
Looking to use for developments to gauge
Annesley, a community with a proud past
Not lost forever as we go’ forward fast’
Left sided group acrostic
Area of Kirkby concerned with airborne pollution?
Newstead abbey is the local beauty spot
No one should spoil it , just leave it rural
Engage more with our heritage and history
Safeguard our rural landscape
Listening – where is history’s voice standing?
Everywhere around the village
You need to come forward and save our village
Individual right sided acrostic – author unknown
Trees, flowers, animals and birds
Nature’s inland beach
Paradise in nature
Awaking to pollution placed in danger
This used to be a wow
Now we see it go
No more the ecological zoo
Destroyed and left for dead
Individual Tanka – author unknown
Nature’s inland calm
Trees, flowers, animals, birds
Wow – a paradise
Lost forever with pollution
Destroyed and dead – help us please
Individual haiku – author unknown
Ancient forest past
Pollution, rape a threat
Save us for your kids
Ancient forest past
Tree animal bird
Growth, green and vibrant
Ancient forest future
Bare, pleasure gone forever
Bird song calm eternity
Ancient forest past
Silence growth, decay and birth
Nature circles on
Ancient forest now
Noise, decay, rape and death
Seen again – never
Group left sided acrostic
All saints on the hill
Not a place I use but my daughter was married there
Notts Wildlife Trust have concerns about local wildlife
Eggs for breakfast from cousin Annie’s hens
Spelling is not my forty
Lakes and and lots of walks
Each concern I have is answered with heritage
Yonder hills signal home
Individual right sided acrostic – author unknown
Woods of ancient oaks
Fields of ash
We live on the edge
Of the forest greater
Than others that grew
Now changed to
A landscape of industry and agriculture so
We must save what’s left of the mighty Sherwood
Group poem
I’m in a new place now – strangers talking
In a room that echoes with noise – and vibes
In a while we will go a-walking
On footpaths trod by Annesely’s Pagan tribes
We will see the ancient sites of yester year
Annesley castle is no longer standing
Ancient oaks and other trees stand in fear
All our help and faithful hearts demanding
That we should stand and fight the dreadful foe
And send them on their awe-ful way to go
Individual Tanka – author unknown
We live on the edge
Of woods of oak and ash
England’s greatest forest grew
Now changed and threatened we must
Ave what’s left of mighty Sherwood
Individual haiku – author unknown
People, community
Who’s lives lived completely here
Happy village people
Spirit of nature
Arise in ancient woodland
Heritage protected forever
Toby and tinker
Old servants, good old pals
Live long in Annesley fields
Toby and tinker
Beautiful old friends
Live out lives in peace forever
Individual right sided acrostic - author unknown
Sherwood Forest Perambulations
Annesley Hills made up of scrub and heath
Annesley Hall grounds have an ice house
A wonderful sight to see local deer
The osier beds are full of willow
The local lakes are full of fish too
Swallows leave a hole when they go
Pollution should not leave trees dead
Left sided group acrostic
Ancient Annesley started with a prehistoric hillfort
Nuts are found in our little oak wood
Never seen walnut though
Every day brings something new
Straight lines – Linby joining Annesley (dot to dot)
Lovely countryside, bluebells trees and birds
Especially important to conserve
Young people must follow on in our footsteps
Group poem
Annesely, a place of different space
A green and pleasant place for now
With woods and fields a very special place
Instead of houses let us see a cow
Annesley hill fort enjoy the view
Ash, oak, maple, trees of England old
Our meadows, birds and streams, it’s up to you
Each path you take – will colour up in gold
What gold that Annesely digs is richest soil
We grow – we hope – our richness stays unspoiled
Left sided group acrostic
Annesley village – I like the Annesely village and the Acacia Centre
Now bob’s talking – it all makes sense
Nothing matters
Except our village and community
Sandy soil forms part of the hills of Annesley
Lie in bed of a morning and look at the birds in my ‘faraway tree’
Evening’s best I hit the sack again
Yes another day’s done
Individual right sided acrostic – author unknown
Highways and byways
Lots of trees, oak, birches and ash
Many paths and a pretty lane
Full of birds singing and a flower
Robin Hood and his trusty bow
Wandered to and fro
Long ago
A long history of the great and good
Individual Tanka - author unknown
Highways and bye-ways a-bound
Wandering to and fro
Lots of trees oak and ash
Robin Hood and his bow
A long history of the great
Three individual haiku – author unknown
Olden Annesley
Inhabited by farmers
Sun-baked and tranquil
Times are hard
Villagers are poor and hungry
Things were so different then
I cannot do this haiku
It is very hard to think
Thank goodness my schooling’s over
Group poem
We set off from the ancient Linby cross
Walking along the old central railway line
Sleeping by the wayside on the soft moss
Drinks of real ale and cakes we decline
Off down the paths to the old castle hill
Someone takes a ghost with them – sings a song
The man looks away and, defiant, takes a happy pill
whilst behind them Annesley Hall clock goes wrong
we’ve wandered along the paths of old
we must listen to all the tales told
Robin’s New Clothes
Created by the residents of The Oaklands Residential home for Adults with learning disabilities on 4th September 2011 (mixed ages)
It was a Wednesday at 8am in winter; ninety five year old Robin hood (not even an outlaw yet) was in bed. He was asleep except that he was listening out for the Sheriff.
There was a knock at his door; it was little John who was in a bit of a state and had come to the residential home where Robin lived for help.
Can I come in?
Yes, come in.
Eighty year old Little John came and told Robin that Prince John had stolen his money.
They took a bow and arrow and went off to fight through the pouring rain.
To travel the one hundred miles, they stole some horses and arrived there in the afternoon. There was Prince John with his hundreds of men. They took one look at Robin and fled; all of them (including Prince John). They were afraid of Robin’s green clothes and the feather in his hat.
There, in Sherwood Forest, they noticed a big pile of gold coins; one million of them. This belonged to Little John; money he’d tricked out of Prince John.
There was a treat to come; they went to a tailors and bought some new clothes. The horses were far too tired to travel, so they walked there instead.
The clothes they bought were made of leaves.
Robin Hood was invited by Maid Marian to live in her castle and Little John took up farming. The sun was shining down.
Following haiku by Steve Horne (thanks for the Thyngowe tour)
Rails and sleepers gone
The levelled trail remaining
Straight and easy walking
Kids in Pleasley Mills
Sports Direct with third world shirts
Conscience out of sight
Warehouse with no roof
A simpler, quieter living
Plants, visitors and teas
Centuries apart -
Stone warehouse in the Vale and
Sports Direct eyesore
Warsop Park has gone
beneath waste from Shirebrook Pit.
Farm, Destruction, Views.
Mills and pits are shut
Flowing clear and fresh once more
Our River Meden
Keep reading
I noticed Clumber Park on you itinerary. We lived in Worksop when the kids were little and we spent many happy hours there - especially early Sunday am when if you were quiet you could see the deer.... so I wrote a poem....
Travelled from Derby to Sherwood Forest
Clumber Park
Ancient oaks a child can hide in,
myriad ducks, enormous swans,
undergrowth for scouting 'injuns',
narrow paths through 'jungle' plants.
Rescued buildings serving cream teas,
shady nooks where lovers lie,
ground packed hard by Sunday trippers,
grass cropped short by fallow deer.
Mid-week silence broken only
by the call of grebe and drake;
weekend tempest carries sound-bytes
blasting out from posers' cars.
Could the long-gone 'landed gentry'
ever think that there could be
such a change to well-loved landmarks
yet in all a constancy.
above by Margaret Pagdin
Travelled from Derby to Sherwood Forest
Got lost on the way
Helped by a friendly local
Excited to see the route of the
Nottingham perambulation
Slightly apprehensive
Cricket match at Trent Bridge
In 1662 even Derby would seem a long distance
India unimaginable
Walked by the river
Stopping every so often to hug a tree
Measuring history with my arms
Mention of the rivalry
Between the rams and forest
Friendly banter not life and death
My favourite bit
We turned into a yard
Harry Potter meets West side story
A narrow alley led to a different world
Leafy suburb
Shaded river
At last we had to leave
Time travellers stepped on to a modern tram
And journeyed home.
Caron Kirkham, Derby (walker on the first section of the Perambulation route)
On 2nd August, I ran a creative story building/theatre session at Bestwood Day Centre for adults with learning disabilities. Through a neutral question/answer process, participants created a new story about Robin Hood, acting it out after each scene was 'gathered' by myself. Everything in the play was represented by people; characters, objscts and the weather. Staff also joined in. This process, called 'Instant Theatre' was invented by R G Gregory and performed by Word And Action (Dorset) Ltd for over thirty years with all kinds of groups. I was a member of W and A from 198 - 1998.
The story is unique to the group and the time and will never be told again. Here it is in full.
Robin loses his head
It all started when Robin Hood was a four year old boy. He wasn't an outlaw then but was already dressed in green.
It was a summer's daytime and extremely hot. He was in Nottingham with his parents surrounded by castles. They wre an affluent family and his parents had decided to go to the seaside. Catching the train made of stone, it took lots of days to arrive there. Robin was already thinking of his sixteen year old girlfriend, Maid Marian who was in Australia.
Skegness at night; the sun was shining and alternated with the rain. The familar sights of Skegness were there; the sea, the jolly fishermen in their boats trying to catch fish and...lo and behold, Maid Marian with The Sheriff of Nottingham. She was betraying him; both the Sheriff and Robin's girlfriend were refusing to pay taxes. The Sheriff was a bit secretive about his age; he was only seventeen but already looked fifty.
Robin took umbrage at them not paying taxes and started to fight with the Sheriff; both grabbed swords. His parents were furious.
It was Maid Marian who dealt the final blow; using an axe she chopped off Robin's head, with lots of blood and gore to go with it.
Mark Dawson, a great man with culinary skills who worked at KFC came along to help. He fixed Robin's head back on.
Maid Marian decided to apologise and they were married on the beach with Kate Middleton performing the ceremony.
Thunder rolled, rain fell and the and so did the hail.
Afterwards, while we were waiting for lunch and some had already left, I asked the remains of hte group to create an acrostic (each letter of the word 'sherwood' starting each line). A member of staff also helped. Here, again the poem is, in full.
sherwood forest
sherwood forest - trees - shhhsshh
hundreds of years old - it's old now
elephants waving their trunks
robin hood - he took his head off
water - maid marian
o - fighting - wuth swords - fencing
o no - they cut it down to build the boats and trains
dad parks the car
Afterwards, while we were waiting for lunch and some had already left, I asked the remains of hte group to create an acrostic (each letter of the word 'sherwood' starting each line). A member of staff also helped. Here, again the poem is, in full.
sherwood forest
sherwood forest - trees - shhhsshh
hundreds of years old - it's old now
elephants waving their trunks
robin hood - he took his head off
water - maid marian
o - fighting - wuth swords - fencing
o no - they cut it down to build the boats and trains
dad parks the car
Following poem by Margaret Pagdin
Time Passes
There was a time when Sherwood Forest spread
its leafy branches over half the shire-
or so it seemed- where Nottingham held sway.
There honest men in tiny hamlets toiled
to eke a living, leaving space for those
who feared the rope thrown over beam to lift
a body to rough justice, merited or not.
Time passed and 'rope thrown over beam' evolved.
Now wires and pulleys lifted up the load
as 'black gold' leached from veins far underground
spilled near and far to blacken air and stone,
to warm the cottages now built in serried rows
where villages sprang into life to house the men
whose living was made, working in the dark.
Time passed. The life-blood, drained from every seam,
must now be sought in other, far-flung sites.
New industries are introduced, with grants
and subsidies to get them off the ground,
but people seep away, community
is lost as men move on to seek a place
to earn a living in another way.
Now Sherwood Forest is not half the size.
Its trees are old, and cars and people fill
the empty glades and tramp down soil so hard
that nourishment's denied to ancient oaks
and new growth finds it hard to raise a shoot.
But youth are growing up to see that loss
of woodland forest is an awful waste.
So maybe as times pass all will be well...
BLACKBERRYING
I jumped out of bed one morning to see,
What sort of a day it was going to be.
The sun shone bright, the sky was blue,
I knew just what I was going to do.
I’d get my basin and don my wellies
And go and gather some lovely blackberries.
So off we went my dog and I
Into the wood under cloudless sky.
The wind blew softly through my hair,
I didn’t seem to have a care.
My mind was filled with thoughts so grand
Of this green and pleasant land.
No noise of passing traffic booms
With their smelly petrol fumes.
No! nothing could compare
With this wonderful fresh air.
I tramped from one bush to another
Bigger berries to discover.
My basin soon was full to the brim
So I sat down with a grin.
My hands all red and stained with juice
My hair by now all hanging loose.
Only the sound of trees as they rustled
And the sound of my dog as she snuffled.
I tried to count all the different greens
But they were endless so it seemed.
I looked around, but couldn’t see
Not another soul but me.
They’d all be crammed in town and city
Oh! It did seem such a pity.
Why did no one want to share
All this lovely woodland air.
It made me think of days gone by
Only a child then was I.
For now I’m a Grandma you see
But the magic has not gone for me.
I must go now and make some jam
A busy happy woman I am.
above by Mrs. Irene Smith of Newstead Village.
SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS ‘84
Christmas of ‘84 was soon to arrive
Maggie hoped that we wouldn’t survive.
She thought we’d give in with the lure of more money and food
but she hadn’t reckoned on the miners mood.
We knew we had no fears because we had a notion
the wheels of the Trade Union movement were set in motion.
Labour Party activists from all over the land
worked together to give us a helping hand.
Lorries came loaded with turkeys and all kinds of treats
jars of gherkins, frogs legs and tinned meats.
Not forgetting all the Christmas puds
they even sent along the spuds.
Sorting this food mountain was a lot to ask
but the “Women Against Pit Closures” were up to the task.
They made sure every family had their hamper of Christmas fayre
Including a turkey each for all to share.
Christmas parties were held, and Santa appeared
it wasn’t such a bad Christmas as some had feared.
Presents for the children were equally shared
It was wonderful to know so many people cared.
The Notts. Striking miners can always walk tall
for with the help they received they gave their all.
We took pride in our stance and our conscience is clear
so we wish you all a “MERRY CHRISTMAS” and a “HAPPY NEW YEAR ”.
Bob Collier (Annesely)
THE 1842 CHILDRENS ACT
Did you know that sometimes babies were born down the pit
no midwives or doctors, not even a first aid kit.
Life was hard for women and girls working undergound at this time
but the 1842 Act was passed which banned them from the mine.
Boys under 10 were not allowed to work underground
but the greedy mine owners were still around.
More work and less pay was the order of the day
on health and safety you would have had no say.
Many lives were lost and accidents happened every day
but you had to finish your job or there would be no pay.
The few safety measures were often abused
but sometimes a caged canary was used.
A miner would hold it and walk on ahead
if dangerous gases were present the canary dropped dead.
Then ponies were sent down the black hole
it was decided they could help haul the coal.
Pit ponies did the work of young boys
for these working ponies there were few joys.
Never again would they see sunshine or breathe fresh air
it doesn’t seem fair, but some would live and die down there.
Bob Collier (Annesely)
AUTUMN
Autumn is a favourite season,
For not just one but many a reason.
The days are still sunny and bright,
The trees and woods are a pretty sight.
Leaves have all changed to red and gold
The wind is fresh but not too cold.
Next the leaves all fall to the ground
There’s not a squirrel or a hedgehog to be found.
To hibernate they all go
To get ready for the winter snow
Some birds fly to a warmer clime
Funny how they know the time.
There’s conkers, chestnuts and berries red
We sit by a bright fire before going to bed.
Mrs. Irene Smith of Newstead Village.
from a workshop - southwell library 3/7/11
you had maple syrup
didn't you?
from a maple tree
wicker things
ribbons in them
better than kate's hat
this is a real tree
R G Gregory, to whet the appetite until the Perambulations start proper. Greg does not live in Notttinghamshire but has kindly loaned his poems for the blog.
