The sound of movement

In this session we listened to crowds chanting, the sound of the Thames, moving vehicles and trains.

The task for this session was to write a stream of consciousness inspired by what we heard. We also learnt how to edit by “separating the flowers from the weeds”.

Spring’s Beauty

by L.M. Lewis

When first I viewed you from my window one floor above where you stood, in my neighbour’s unkempt garden, some ten, or more years ago.

No doubt with branches swaying, and leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze.

I saw you, but I did not SEE you.

I had noticed the majestic oak tree, that towered high above you and even past my bedroom window, I marvelled at its height and age and girth. It stood strong and imposing, definitely the principal tree of the garden, the one, birds chose to nest in, and squirrels to chased each other in, and foxes, to boldly languid in.

But I did not notice you, until one spring, the season of my birth, you produced the most amazingly beautiful pink and white blossoms hiding your sturdy branches, like a vailed bride, hiding her beauty.

You instantly took my breath away, lifted my spirits, and made me smile.

Two seasons passed, and your blooms had fallen like confetti, creating a carpet of soft white petals, blushed pink.

Leaving leaves of beautiful vibrant autumn colours, of forest greens, burnt orange and sunshine yellows...

Now, each Spring, I look forward to welcoming you, as a grandmother welcomes a much loved grandchild, for the summer holidays...

Life, love and hope prevails!

Flow away

by Joao Godinho

The train chugs steadily along the river, each clank of the wheels deafening the quiet flow beside.

Most of the time the train is louder, but now and then a waterfall bursts into view and the river claims the stage. A sudden roar, a spray of silver mist, and the windows fill with faces, eyes eager to catch the fleeting show.

Eventually, a bridge: the train crosses and turns direction.

Here the race ends; but not the journey, as journeys are born of intent, while races belong to chance and opportunity.