Wind Energy

Of Time & Tide – fifth in a series of new posts

V         Winds of Change               2001 – 2017 AD

Bound for global warming,

Men come with granite dug from primordial days,

Banking up the shifting cliffs with boulders,

Invading, though without a cruel conquest:

Without even the whispered prayers of hopeful hearts.

 

A new army marches here:

The London Array that walks on water,

On currents of roiling, seething change,

Feet treading deep in London clay,

White-bladed arms ever threshing slowly, slowly.

 

If the wind, the tide, cannot be beaten

(So say the runes of our present race)

In every place the tide must now be bridled,

The great winds’ horsepower harnessed,

Wild waves’ spirits saved, enslaved:

 

Not by the captive land above the advancing cliffs,

Nor by plainsong in flickering, echoing darkness,

Nor (they think) by the wing & breath of God;

But by smaller, new-wrought strongholds

Raised beyond the Roman fort, beyond the monks’ two towers,

 

Raised up with new-found music: the song of wind

In wind-turbines bestriding the scrolling & unrolling inky sea.

                              Words and images © Lizzie Ballagher

img_6335

reculver-towers-colour

Of Time and Tide – third in a series of new posts: the longing for peace

In these days of searingly painful news, a time in which world events explode all around us, our longing for peace has rarely seemed more poignant, and peace itself more vital. Christmas can remind us, though, that people were hungering for peace two thousand years ago in the Middle East. They longed for peace, too, a thousand years ago on our own shores. And the narrative of Christmas is one of hope. This post focuses again on the great stone towers at Reculver, which was a monastic community both before and after the Norman invasion.

III         Pax Domini              669 – 1150 AD

 

Bound for long silences,

For the telling of beads & hours on knees

In the monastery church built on crumbling rubble

(Above the seas & the wreckage of Romans),

Monks guided their missiles of plainsong & prayer to low clouds.

 

No more invaders striding, riding here

But (always reminding them of time’s truth) the dry whisper

Of wind in thrift, in sweet-cut hay,

And the battering of waves,

The chattering of bead-like stones on encroaching cliffs.

 

No more Pax Romana.

Instead, now, Pax Domini vobiscum

Et cum spiritu tuo—for all wrong deeds

And the desperate longing

That—for ever & for ever—peace should fall upon us.

© Lizzie Ballagher

reculver-towers-colour

Nine Days – Day Nine

This evening sees the end of this nine-day blog. Writing the poem has been a good way of looking back with love and affection and looking ahead with hope and humour. If you’ve enjoyed following these nine days, please share the link or send me a comment.

My Mother’s Book of Hours: Novena

IX

But keep the beech-wood box itself for memory—

For our two grandmothers’ sakes, even for poetry’s sake—

And maybe take

One small bright thimble

For faith & hope & love (all three).

Go on—

It fits your finger—see?

 

© Lizzie Ballagher

IMG_6181

 

Music and Poetry!

A Treble's Voice amendedartwork

Merciless Day

 

The world wakes with a chip on its shoulder –

Reluctantly. Too chill, too soon

Between cold clouds the stars grow colder.

By the light of a cruel, one-eyed moon

 

The iced ribbon of road runs into the sky,

As merciless day cracks open:

A grudging window of heavy-lidded grey.

Now soft night shatters; sleep is broken.

 

Rooted in earth, black trees stand, darkly

Bearing the weight of recrucified Christ.

Suspended from stars, stiff branches hang starkly

On thousands of Calvaries where soldiers have diced,

 

On thousands of mountains where troop tanks have rolled,

In thousands of valleys where armies have moved

To thousands of Bethlehems where peasants untold

Have given up first-born and babes they have loved.

 

Kyrie eleison! O, deliver the war-torn.

Christe eleison!

O when will be your true morn?

Kyrie eleison!

O bring us your new dawn.

© Lizzie Ballagher

This poem has been set to music by composer Simon Mold as part of a 100th anniversary World War 1 commemorative requiem mass. It was performed in various UK venues in 2014 and in 2015 and is now recorded by Amemptos Music Ltd

http://www.amemptosmusic.co.uk/ourstandard.asp?pageid=82

on the album A Treble’s Voice sung by Oliver Barton.