Siân has finally plucked up the courage to record herself reading some of her Ashdown poems on YouTube. Here they are in (almost) no particular order:
One of the Hindleap poems, along with a short (and stumbling) introduction to the collection.
Crossing the Pale, which is the first poem in the book and, because it swoops around the whole Forest, is also one of the longest.
Goat Cross, one Siân's poems about childhood.
The short-toed eagle bonanza that is Gills Lap.
A poem that came out of one of Siân's Ashdown Poets' Walks, The Lancaster Room.
And finally, another childhood piece, Hindleap, Christmas Morning 1982.
Each recording shows one of Reem Acason's exquisite illustrations for the book.
Should you wish to read along... or even to read alone, here's the first Hindleap poem in the YouTube series:
Hindleap
Winter's thrown a grey net
over the day, it's caught
moss-felted trees, inevitable mud
and the rags of rooks' nests.
We used to come here all the time
when I was a kid. We had picnics
and spotted the place with dalmatians
who stole our sandwiches and rolled in fox.
Now the colours have faded.
Winter storms have spread branches.
The floor is a miniature forest: twigs
stick up and I'm a giant, squelching through.
I follow path rivers, down
till I reach the valley and the small stream
that's almost clear but orange-bottomed
chalybeate, like it's fed by rusty pipes.
I've no clue where I am (often the way:
I leave the car park, full of confidence
till I reach the place that asks
What if you never get back?).
I sit on the stream's side in cold
January leaves and write about loss.
Water flits beneath the bridge.
There's a sieve's worth of sunlight
and the trees are dripping, but
the path's turn is mine too - I've
a cold bottom and the birds know who I am:
I'm the mouth of the stream.
The stream stands up, climbs the hill.
22nd January
This poem can be found in Ashdown and an early draft of it first appeared in Agenda: New Generations.
One of the Hindleap poems, along with a short (and stumbling) introduction to the collection.
Crossing the Pale, which is the first poem in the book and, because it swoops around the whole Forest, is also one of the longest.
Goat Cross, one Siân's poems about childhood.
The short-toed eagle bonanza that is Gills Lap.
A poem that came out of one of Siân's Ashdown Poets' Walks, The Lancaster Room.
And finally, another childhood piece, Hindleap, Christmas Morning 1982.
Each recording shows one of Reem Acason's exquisite illustrations for the book.
Should you wish to read along... or even to read alone, here's the first Hindleap poem in the YouTube series:
Hindleap
Winter's thrown a grey net
over the day, it's caught
moss-felted trees, inevitable mud
and the rags of rooks' nests.
We used to come here all the time
when I was a kid. We had picnics
and spotted the place with dalmatians
who stole our sandwiches and rolled in fox.
Now the colours have faded.
Winter storms have spread branches.
The floor is a miniature forest: twigs
stick up and I'm a giant, squelching through.
I follow path rivers, down
till I reach the valley and the small stream
that's almost clear but orange-bottomed
chalybeate, like it's fed by rusty pipes.
I've no clue where I am (often the way:
I leave the car park, full of confidence
till I reach the place that asks
What if you never get back?).
I sit on the stream's side in cold
January leaves and write about loss.
Water flits beneath the bridge.
There's a sieve's worth of sunlight
and the trees are dripping, but
the path's turn is mine too - I've
a cold bottom and the birds know who I am:
I'm the mouth of the stream.
The stream stands up, climbs the hill.
22nd January
This poem can be found in Ashdown and an early draft of it first appeared in Agenda: New Generations.