I had a very enjoyable evening with Lichfield Poets. Everyone was inspired to produce their own work upon hearing the meditation. I was astonished and delighted at the variety of responses and the writing which resulted. The calibre of poet’s in the group was unsurprisingly high, as was the quality and range of their work. Images which some found reassuring and restful others found threatening and grotesque, a tribute to the imagination of the writers present.<\/p>\n
What follows is a selection of their work. If you would like me run a similar workshop for your group please contact me.<\/p>\n
Meditation<\/strong> When I re-emerged the sea had become surreal; Bells of different sizes started ringing, louder \u00a9Janet Jenkins<\/p>\n The apple of my eye<\/strong><\/p>\n You have been I have been a reed You were my mother once, A thousand times Sarah Dale<\/p>\n On the Beach<\/strong><\/p>\n Yellow, greasy fog of stale breath Waves thrash the strand You can strip yourself here, Sarah Dale<\/p>\n A Meditation on the Sound of Salt<\/strong><\/p>\n I drown in an ocean of bad news: war torn countries I am deafened by the clamour of certainties, dissolved into the grey. For survival, a shift is required. Heather Fowler<\/p>\n Stripped<\/strong><\/p>\n To a place Coarse rocks groan Somewhere flotsam floats Deaf, blind, mute Safe at last Gary Longden<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I had a very enjoyable evening with Lichfield Poets. Everyone was inspired to produce their own work upon hearing the meditation. I was astonished and delighted at the variety of responses and the writing which resulted. The calibre of poet’s in the group was unsurprisingly high, as was the quality and range of their work. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[62],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/270"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=270"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/270\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=270"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=270"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jane-osborne.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=270"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nMeditation led me to a white deserted beach
\nand an aqua marine sea, where a porpoise floated
\nfar out with me for many miles, until he left me
\nto dive down, down, into a dark place
\nwhere my senses were non-existent for minutes,
\nhours, or was it a decade? I have no idea how long.<\/p>\n
\nI was surrounded by comical beauty:
\nSea horses blowing bubbles and chuckling,
\nturtles wearing tutus and waving wands,
\ngold sea urchins warbling in unison;
\nrainbow trout high jumping over starry shells. <\/p>\n
\nand louder, until a school of dolphins shouted ”Stop!”
\nfollowed by a burst of whistles and clicks.
\nI was back in the room listening to a soft voice,
\nsoothing music and the sound of my breathing ..
\nin…and out, as reality returned and recall began.<\/p>\n
\nThe apple of my eye
\nThe sea I swam in
\nAnd the rose I wore
\nWhen I danced
\nAt the funeral games
\nIn Troy, lives ago<\/p>\n
\nIn your papyrus, wood
\nBurning in your fire,
\nThe knife that cut you
\nAnd the salmon
\nThat you caught
\nIn Ireland, lives ago<\/p>\n
\nAnd I your son,
\nOr friend, or brother,
\nLives and loves ago<\/p>\n
\nWe\u2019ve lived and loved,
\nPoured out like water,
\nWater running into earth,
\nBeyond memory and time
\nI\u2019ve loved and lost you,
\nLoves and lives ago<\/p>\n
\n From dirty teeth,
\nCavities of corruption;
\nThe stink of something rotten,
\nNot seen but smelt;
\nCold dead hands of kelp
\nGrasping broken rubbish;
\nA gannet\u2019s thin skull
\nShattering under foot.<\/p>\n
\nTo jagged shingle;
\nThere\u2019s broken glass here,
\nNails from wrecked boats;
\nThis is a serious sea
\nThat knows its business
\nWhich is to drown
\nAll the dry world
\nIn salt.<\/p>\n
\nFold the skin of yourself,
\nLeave it with the other waste
\nFor scavengers to use;
\nAs nothing you can slip
\nThrough the tight knit bond
\nOf water, into such minuteness
\nOf infinity that you need
\nNever be seen again.<\/p>\n
\nand culpability, refugees and the Mexican wall.
\nRacism, sexism, homelessness and HS2. Too thin,
\ntoo fat, crispy roasties cause cancer. <\/p>\n
\nby a ceaseless susurration of altering facts.
\nSedimentary rock on a vulnerable coastline, I am
\npounded in my soft underbelly, worn away remorselessly, <\/p>\n
\nStretch out and drift on the swell of the seas and
\nseek the sound of the salt that is dissolved in the water.
\nThen will I have found silence in the crowd.<\/p>\n
\nWhere there is nothing
\nEverything is beyond<\/p>\n
\nUnder the weight
\nOf my abandonment<\/p>\n
\nMocking my suspension
\nIn the darkness<\/p>\n
\nOnly a salty taste
\nAnd the tides caress<\/p>\n
\nLost
\nWithin an ocean’s vastness<\/p>\n