Scribble 17 beauty by Cartwheelarts

Hello Welcome to the beautiful issue of Scribble. In these pages you will find creative musings on the majestic, the spiritual and the downright ugly. Sadly this is our last issue for a while, so make the most of it and revel in the delightful mix conjured up by our Story Group participants and the inspiring Ben Mellor. Emma Melling Editor

Langley stalwart Robin Parker opens the magazine this quarter with a journey like no other. We are very sorry to say the poem was submitted for the Space issue but got lost in the ether; so we hope this makes up for it Robin.

Spatial sonnet S P A C E

o far I go in a strange journey mode, icking the route where it tells me to go; gainst my instincts I travel that road, alling it ‘yes’ when desire tells me ‘no’. verything says this is not the right track,

T elling me ‘leave it’, I ought to break free; H ow many times have I tried to turn back? E ach inner voice has said, ‘no, let it be’. F ixed is your destiny, move on your own, I n each ambition you feel what to do; N ow you must travel forever alone, A cres of space will for you now be true. L ess time to worry as you try to find FRONTIERs new, for the peace of your mind. © Robin Parker, Langley Story Group

Photos: Brian Slater & Maurice Jones

Tell us another one chapter seventeen This quarter has been a productive and reflective one, planning celebration events and looking back with warm smiles over the successful projects of our three-year creative writing journey. We have five performances of Village Girl for you to come and see in our dedicated roadshow (see page 34). We have the Scribble conference with The Observer’s former Literature Editor, Robert McCrum, on Tuesday 11th June and we have Scribble Festival with the much-acclaimed writer Jackie Kay on Wednesday 12th June (see page 31). We will be launching Book Box at the Scribble events - a glorious set of books written throughout 2012 by our nine Story Groups. We will also be celebrating the Heart of Hepworth project in June - more info at www.tellusanotherone.org. So what are you waiting for? Come and join in the fun!

spotlight on..

Ben Mellor

Ben Mellor has taken performance poetry by the horns. Since 2005 he’s written two solo theatre shows and co-written two collaborative theatre/spoken word shows which toured in the UK and Europe. He’s worked with musicians and won poetry slams, including BBC Radio 4’s in 2009 and the Dike Omeje Award 2008. Last year a new collaboration with Dan Steele resulted in Anthropoetry which opened at the Edinburgh Fringe and toured Australia. They’re going to Edinburgh this year with a new show called Shaggy Doggerel. We caught up with Ben to pass on some of his wisdom.

- What inspired you to begin writing? I started writing around the same time I started acting, so initially I was really into the character and story-telling side of things. I loved writing dramatic monologues which I could perform in character, and my influences from poetry and hip hop made me wanted to do that in a heightened, stylised, and usually rhyming, way. Also as I got older and started becoming a bit more politically aware I started writing more soap-boxy pieces that addressed certain issues I was passionate and angry about. That’s still a big inspiration for me but I think as I’ve matured a bit I’ve become more interested in interrogating my own position on a particular issue and where I intersect with it personally.

Over to you...

Co-Operation

- Which piece have you been most motivated to write and why? Motivation’s a tricky fish. Probably my two solo theatre pieces about climate change and our relationship with the environment. Yet that work has also been the stuff I’ve found most difficult to write, and has led me into the darkest of places personally, thereby making those pieces the ones I have felt least motivated at times to write! Conversely, things that have felt a bit more frivolous or light-hearted, that I don’t feel so personally invested in and identified by (I realise it’s never a good thing to identify yourself by any one single issue, but that’s what I’ve done in the past, and am trying not to do again) have felt easier and therefore I’ve felt more motivated to sit down and finish them! I think my next piece about ecological issues might be a comedy about why I’ve found it so hard to write about them. 4

- We love your performance style and performance is something we’re trying to improve through our project. Do you have any hot tips on perfecting delivery? Thank you. Practice is key. I was much less comfortable on stage a few years ago, particularly when it came to talking to an audience between poems. Some poets I know script all their links, so their sets almost become one long poem with the linking material as strong as the pieces it links. That was an approach I used in Anthropoetry and it really helped me, but then you have the challenge of making it seem fresh and spontaneous every time you say it, over and over again! Be aware of what stories you tell yourself before and afterwards - e.g. if it went well or badly, and whether if it went badly did it really go badly or are you just telling yourself that because it’s part of a self-defeating narrative you tell yourself, or if it did genuinely go either well or badly should that have any bearing on your sense of self-worth? Success and failure, as Kipling reminded us, are both impostors. - As this magazine is about all things beautiful what does beauty mean to you? I’m kind of with Keats - ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’. That sort of begs the question ‘what is truth?’ but I think we know it when we see it or hear it. To misquote Orwell, in times of universal deceit, telling the truth is a beautiful act. I think outside of the natural world, which I almost always find beautiful even when it’s cruel and harsh and vicious, I think humans are most capable of beauty when we make statements - artistic, political, physical, lyrical - that tell it like it is, despite the odds stacked against us or the consequences we might incur. Of course to separate the human world from the natural world is a false dichotomy, which is another truth I find quite beautiful.

Wonderful! You can also purchase Ben’s other work from http://benmellor.bandcamp.com/track/beat-n-trachea in either MP3, CD or book form.

Ben has passed on the wonderful poem overleaf as a flavour of his work. A free audio download of the poem and music is available at: http://benmellor.bandcamp.com/track/beat-n-trachea. 55

What we see, peace, calm Heart pulses like a ladoo Another’s behaviour can be beautiful The ladoo breaks if we are disappointed Nature I haven’t seen all of it We are amazed at what God has made Trees, jungle, mountain, snow, stars

Beat ‘n’ Trachea From our first to our last From our birth until our time has passed Each breath contains the whole of history Eternity’s respiratory Every breath we take contains molecules breathed before by Shakespeare, Rosa Parks, Genghis Khan, Aristotle’s sandal-maker, Nefertiti’s scribe and the first fish ever to take a gulp of air Molecules fused from atoms birthed from stars exploding super-nova deaths, before being reborn in stellar nurseries to form suns like ours that warmed bacteria into producing oxygen That oxygen gave rise to plants which photosynthesised the teeming multiplicity of life that gave rise to us, a species that’s learned to shorten its breath by cutting down those plants, and smoking them And through the smoke we learned to turn leafy lungs of green into ones of iron, we became civilised, or just industrialised, even learned to synthesise the breath by use of machines But our ability to respire artificially hasn’t shallowed our appreciation, only added to its depth, breath remains fragile as freedom: your lungs become aware of its importance only when it leaves them. From our first to our last From our birth until our time has passed Each breath contains the whole of history Eternity’s respiratory © Ben Mellor

Over to you...

beauty Beauty is indulgence, long shiny hair, a rainbow, nature, children and spirit. Beauty tastes like chocolate, liquorice, strawberries, sugar and even sprouts (to some)! Beauty smells like a newborn, fresh herbs, baking, shoe polish, tar and expensive perfume. Beauty is the sound of birdsong, harps and laughter, especially children’s laughter. It can be heard from the tinkle of a stream to waves crashing. Beauty feels as rough as tree bark but as smooth as polished wood and silk. It is your back being scratched and a lover’s lips. It is the embrace of friends and family. Beauty is sunrise, a perfect sunset, daffodils, a meadow of wild flowers and stars in the night sky. It is the sight of a friendly face. © Fitton Hill Story Group

My beautiful peaceful mornings How beautiful was that green olive branch That used to hug my window Taking it between its leaves Under its shadow A white dove used to live With her babies, for whom she had built A neat golden nest. How beautiful my mornings used to be When I woke up to enjoy the colourful rays of sunshine Finding their way through these shiny green olives and leaves How moist and beautiful I felt my life was When I watched the glittery drops of dew Dripping from that branch, gently Hitting the crystal-clear heart of my window

Over to you...

Co-Operation

They usually look up in the sky Begging these colourful doves that pass by Some of these doves throw them a bit While others ignore the cry

But they still dream that one day Their mum will come back to life And take them under her wings Where they can again enjoy a peaceful beautiful life

How beautiful my mornings used to be When I woke up and enjoyed watching the babies Of that white dove dancing around her Singing love songs for their beloved mum Enjoying the food they could pick from her mouth Each in turn I felt how happy she felt While feeding her babies Different kinds of seeds Those of love Those of peace Those of tolerance And those of good deeds

One gloomy night A biting storm attacked the green olive branch It broke it, and shattered its fruits and leaves It turned everything green Into grey and even black dust That gloomy storm slaughtered the white dove In front of her babies They were bitterly crying and They are now starving

Pray with me for them to survive And wish them a happy new life Where they can find another olive branch To build a new nest And have a peaceful beautiful life ÂŠ Suhad Hijazi Al Sharif, Falinge Story Group

Over to you...

Suhad wrote this piece about the impact of the conflict in Syria on peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lives, but it could be about so many wars that have happened all over the world.

beauty

How beautiful life used to be Under the shadow of her soft warm wings There, her babies enjoyed the breezes That passed by their faces Gently stamping kisses of love On their cheeks When she flapped her soft wings 8

The beholder They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder But my auntie says you have to have lots of lipstick and blusher!

From what I can tell My friend Jack cannot see, He is as blind as can be, He uses his sense of smell, From what I can tell. His favourite aroma is of mulled wine, The zesty smell of lemons and clementine.

Most of the time she thinks it’s a crime If you wear flowers and don’t look sweet And she always wants to party in her orange dress But I don’t think anyone has told her that it does not impress

He uses his sense of hearing, From what I can tell. He finds beauty in the songs of the birds, the breeze amid the trees. He loves the sound of children’s laughter, This he will seek after.

However she is kind on the inside She helps my uncle who can’t do much

He uses his sense of taste, From what I can tell. He adores foods of sweet and savoury, Especially cakes from the bakery.

He uses his sense of touch, From what I can tell. He likes very much The feel of silk against the skin, the warmth of an open fire, Soft rain upon his face, the love in an embrace, From what I can tell. His beauty is in his long auburn coat, The crinkled fur that lines his floppy ears, His thin narrow jaw, his clumsy paw, That wagging tail as he nears. From what I can tell, Companions we will be forever, In his unconditional love that will never fail. I see his beauty in many ways, even in my dark days. © Maggie Shriane, Darnhill Story Group

She gets her nails done saying it’s fun But I think she only does it to show off to her mum

The twinkled star glows in her eyes She’s a wacky, weird, but magical paradise

Over to you...

beauty Consideration I was left thinking ‘do they care?’ What happens when you need and can’t ask, but you wait and see… and then out of the blue you’ve been away, and you come home to a beautiful clean and spruced up house. My home, my daughter. © Marie Hargreaves, Fitton Hill Story Group

1111

All day long

One day I went outside to play in the garden. I saw the beautiful sunshine and sky. I also saw lots of different flowers. I saw tulips. I played all day long. When I looked behind a tree I saw a nice mouse, it was a white mouse with a pink nose. There was a lovely rainbow and a colourful bird flying over it. © Imani Chowdhury, Coldhurst Story Group (age 7)

A beautiful day The warmth of the sun shining down The sound of the buzzing bees collecting nectar for their sweet honey The sound of the train pulling in to the station’s platform The noise of the people boarding the train The sound of the whistle blows and then the train tugs along. The journey on the train has many sights The houses running free up a grassy hill The lambs nursing their babies The river flowing calm and slowly

Secret beauty There’s a plant I cannot identify beside my garden gate. Its flowers are small and faded green, its leaves like dinner plates. I cannot remember planting it, it must have come on it own. It’s crowding the fuchsia, crushing the stocks, and every day it has grown. I intended to dig it up today, before it takes over the garden. Although it is strong and healthy, my heart I was going to harden. But this morning I saw it differently, it was bathed in the morning light The sun, the dew and the cobwebs made it a beautiful sight. As soon as I opened my door I knew it was one of those special days. The sun was bright behind the clouds, piercing them with its rays. The special light made the garden a hushed and timeless place And Nature had decked her wayward plant in diamonds and delicate lace. She’d decided to give it a beauty that only the chosen would see. How could I think of digging it up when Nature had chosen me? She’d entrusted me with a secret that only a few would know My rambling plant was beautiful and I had to let it grow. © Jill Pemberton, Dumers Lane Story Group

Over to you...

beauty

Dreamspace

The walk to the park is peaceful and quiet The train comes to a stop and we head off The birds look like they’re gliding thought the sky singing to the sunshine The smell of the freshly cut grass, trees and flowers as we walk through the park are so sweet The breeze that brushes past and at that moment a thought comes to mind What A Beautiful Day.

My dream is to own my own big house To live with my family nicely To have a big front garden Inner beauty To create it like a park Inside is a place that is can multi-dimensional. Youcontent can go anywhere in the Where my children play until they are world but you can be content just in that space with your creator. In Chairs and tables, swings and slides this Iplace are the answers to all your questions. It’s ita place of the heart would like a swing chair with an umbrella over where all is unconditional love, all time has gone; for the past, the now, © Amina Begum, Coldhurst Story group the Translated future allfrom existBangla together. is a place of spiritual water where you by LailaItChowdhury live forever, and its well is always clean, pure, full. You thirst no more. It is for peace, joy and love.

Airport emotions

The slug

Beauty to me was seeing my grandchildren’s faces as I arrived in Australia. They looked tearful and joyful at the same time. My daughter’s face was a picture of happiness. It was a delight to see my little girl looking so beautiful. My eyes filed with tears. I just ran to hug her.

The ugliest creature is the slug, Far more horrible than any other bug. Spiders too are really scary, Spindly legs, that are gruesome and hairy.

Some of them have many eyes, Except for small ones it would be wise To keep away from garden pests, Or else you may at best Discover that all creatures although small, Are often ugly and worst of all. Being pinched or even stung By an insect crawling among The grass in your garden Or through the weeds, It is enough for you to perceive The ugliness of any garden bug; Ugliest of all is certainly the slug.

Beauty within, beauty without There are horrible people in life They say cruel things They can be so hurtful It may seem cool, making people look like fools But it hurts more than skin deep Why do bullies call me ugly? What is it to be beautiful? Is it the inner or outer, What really matters? Many villains to the naked eye are beautiful However a person who’s kind, lovely and caring may only have inner beauty They may be sweet Sweet enough to eat Yet they get picked on Called names for many different reasons Like their size Or because their lips aren’t red enough Or even that their cheeks are pale. Everyone judges outer beauty An opinion created because of looks They’re just blind to what’s inside Will humanity always be like that? © Ashleigh Haigh, Darnhill Story Group, aged 12

Over to you...

beauty

Not everybody is beautiful But some faces look different When I look at her Her face looks like heaven She walks like a honey river She speaks like a soft toy Looks like a petal in the air © Rakhshinda Aslam, Spotland Story Group

Twin flame - Kate’s beauty

Fascinating A flower blossoming Sweet scent spices Stunning, looker, charmer Sweets In the eye of the beholder Inner, outer All around you All the loveliness, niceness Luvvy-duvvy valentines Over the top Abundance Make-up Unique, perfect, flawless Grace Catwalk Untouchable Touchable Heaven, angel Off this planet Greater closeness, distance Youth Can be old as well Your state of mind Catchy Emphasis Striking Healthy heart 1616

To have something that I always wanted. And have it in the palm of my hand, almost. I met my twin flame on a date site. We talked. All of our interests were the same: gothic music, tattoos, planes, writing, history and more. On the weekend we were due to meet her son was ill and taken to hospital. We agreed to meet the following week. This never happened. Her son was better. She wasn’t. Her talk with a nurse confirmed Stage 2 breast cancer. I was worried sick. She faces 12 weeks of drugs, chemo and surgery. Her optimism knows no ends; I’ll support her all the way. She knows of my crazy vodka-fuelled Manchester gig where she was absent. I feel her sadness, not at being ill but on letting me down. We were so close to something special. Now we’re mates. Dear Kate, something kept us apart. It won’t in the future. © Nick Armbrister, Fitton Hill Story Group

Over to you...

beauty Beauty is beauty Beauty is cutie Beauty is what we see and what we want to see Children are beautiful But when they grow up Our beauty sense is changed © Rakhshinda Aslam, Spotland Story Group

1717

Fragile beauty Delicate is a word I would have used to describe porcelain. That is until I was confronted with the most delicate object I ever had to handle - a baby. It was made more delicate in that it was someone else’s baby. It started to cry; what was I to do? I picked it up; it cried louder; had I damaged it? Salvation - its mother just came in the room. I’ll stick to porcelain. © Frank Seton-Jones, Fitton Hill Story Group

Beauty I remember your smile when you were a child it lit up the sky your legs wiggled about food went in and came out your giggle sublime you cried most of the time you beauty I remember your eyes wide you were our joy and our pride our own little man we had you in our prime you cried all the time you beauty I know you love mum she gave you your life best friend, mother and wife she tried, God, she tried she cried lots of the time she’s a beauty we both love you so just watching you grow we’re your parents y’know it’s a job, to be sure it’s a mountain we climb you cried all the time you beauty © Phil Barling, Dumers Lane Story Group

Over to you...

beauty

The taste of sweetness My brother’s personality and looks are very well known. He doesn’t need any make-up. He is very famous amongst his friends and family. In his speech there is the taste of sweetness. He is a doctor, he is always busy, all day. Like a toy, sometimes here, sometimes there. All his time spent running around. He doesn’t speak much and he doesn’t like unnecessary talk. He just talks to the point. He says things just once and doesn’t repeat them. His prescription is like a delicate piece of jewellery. He is not lazy, he is always ready to work, like a key that starts the car of life. © Shahida Parveen, Spotland Story Group Translated from Urdu by Shahida Parveen and Shamshad Khan

Beauty in abundance

Decadent and bold

….Maybe beauty in abundance Waiting to scare the hell out of you…. © Tara Casa, Coldhurst Story Group

Stripped bear The beautiful beast Stood on two feet And pawed the air Its teeth mouthed Glazed eyes glared The music played And the chained Steps danced The body swayed Its head banged Behind the bear eyes A beautiful life Of freedom Hunting prey In natural land Unpaved

The switch stick Stings with musical Precision The tugging chain Contains the dance The beautiful beast’s prance Entertains Coins and derision Shower the air Its moans Of despair are Silenced by the hand Of defeat. Chained to its work A beastly toll Killing the beauty Of its nature It is forced To earn its keep And that of its keeper.

A flower, a lily, American beauty White, speckled in red With outlined lines drawn into their petals With a scent so strong Amazing, beautiful Unlike lilies I’ve seen before Delicate yet strong You hold your face decadent and bold Your perfume fills the air in the room Touching my senses Pleasant and strong I’d wear your perfume I’d wear you in a cream I’d wear you like a bracelet Or a necklace made for me © Karen A. Porter, Spotland Story Group

Over to you...

beauty Beauty is relaxing on a really nice sunny day in the sunshine, after what seems like a long cold winter. I have happy memories of sitting outside in the garden with my wife and the cat, Molly, drinking a cup of tea, seeing all the buttercups and daisies amongst the grass. We sat watching all the butterflies fluttering past and a blue sky above. Molly sat sprawled in the grass. It was a lovely Spring day. © John Morris, Fitton Hill Story Group

Beauty

Beauty queen

Over to you...

The beauty queen is my sister She hates it when she has a blister

beauty

What is beauty? Is it skin deep? It must be true as I look like a compost heap. Is beauty seen through my beer goggles? Drink them on, drink them off, hmmmm the mind boggles. Beauty is something said to be in the eye of the beholder The more you look the more you see it As you’re getting older. Beauty is something that can be all around. In my eyes every day as I look around That’s where true beauty is found. I think I’m full of beauty It comes from deep inside Maybe it shines right through me I think not just down one side. Many a place, a face, a taste Sees beauty every day But it’s in everyone - every place - everything - in every way. © Paul Aldred, Buckley Hall Writers

She’s always wearing lipstick It makes me feel so sick She’s smearing on lipgloss It looks like pink candy floss She uses red blusher I just wanna crush her She wears eye shadow on her eyelids She looks like teenage kids She wears so much jewellery It makes me rage with fury Even though it puts me in a rage I still don’t want her to rage I know I want to twist her But I can’t because she’s my sister © Zayne Khan, Coldhurst Story Group (age 10)

Beautiful sounds The lovely sound of a traction engine, An organ with drums, tambourines and moving figures, Stand, watch and listen - spirit lifting. A steam roller crunching over the tar, whistle tooting, steam spurting, rumbling along at a leisurely pace. The sound of a steam train coming to a station, quietly at first, then the hiss as it pulls up. The excitement of a new journey. © Clare Schofield, Seedfield Story Group

Beauty

Seekers

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder - but what is beauty? A good-looking person, someone with a nice shape, gorgeous hair, and all the things that go with it?

I can see them From my high-up view Ants on the beach

For me, beauty is nature. A sunrise or a sunset, a rainbow, flowers and plants that bring colour and brightness into our lives. And if you have grown them yourself, the sense of achievement is euphoric. When I look at my garden in a quiet moment, and think how lucky I am to have it, I know it’s true what they say - beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I behold my garden and know that it’s all my own creation.

Some crave the adrenalin Of riding upon the ocean’s current Crashing waves break Yet they surf smoothly over

Over to you... Priceless

beauty

Craving for the warm sun Couldn’t wait for a day on the beach Feeling of the dry sand between my toes Blowing through my hair the gentle breeze Buried myself in the sand, watching the Glistening sun on the sea Surfing the sea was a boy called Jack Behind him his dog running away from the waves I could feel something else between my toes now, not the sand. Feeling firm but rather precious I dug deeper into the sand The furry bushy-haired dog came charging towards me Frightening the life out of me Kindly helped me dig deeper To find a piece of jewel The dog polished it with its paws To find it was the most sparkling, beautiful necklace Having had it valued at the pawnbrokers Found it was worth around £50 © Laila Chowdhury, Coldhurst Story Group

Some seek sea shells And other such treasures Admiring nature’s beautiful masterpieces Collecting a token To take home To remind them of this place Some seek to mould Shape and make sandcastles Feeling proud of their creation Which will inevitably wash away Some seek to lie, relax And soak in the sun’s rays Hoping their skin will be Blessed with a bronze tan Rather than beetroot and peeling With sunburn Some just seek to walk Maybe paddle And admire the view How wonderful the earth can be Whatever they seek I can see them From my high-up view Ants on the beach © Katie Haigh, Darnhill Story Group

Hair scare I’m going out on a special date But my hair’s a mess - so lank and straight. Sadly Bella passed away shortly after this piece was written. We print it here in tribute to her.

I plug in the tongs and turn them up high Then burn my finger and almost cry. Disaster strikes! I singe my fringe - oh what a mess, I frown and cringe.

Memories of Bella My friend Bella was a very kind lady. She was part of our craft group. She was helpful to everyone. Bella loved cooking for her family, but one afternoon she brought a large bag with her. When she unloaded it we were delighted to see there were parcels for everyone wrapped in foil. Inside was a piece of parkin she had made especially for each of us. What a glorious taste of heaven! © Doris Smith, Fitton Hill Story Group

Instead of lovely, bouncy hair My locks are ruined beyond repair I wanted a curly, shiny mane But now regret being quite so vain The moral of this poem - like it or not Is - try to be happy with what you’ve got! © Denise W, Seedfield Story Group

Over to you...

Faded beauty We sat in hazy dappled comfort Ate apples Sandwiches, thick, buttery, filled with goodness Kindly created We smiled Then you moved, changed the mood Hugged your box of secrets Shutting me out, casting me into doubt And jealousy You said it was just jewellery I hope But the secrets, letters, whispered lies Reach out Pull me into misery and pain © Eileen Earnshaw, Fitton Hill Story Group

beauty And look again, but do not look For beauty; it isn’t always what you see. Couldn’t it be what you hear, Or maybe how you feel? Different for us all, you must agree.

But let us not prevaricate For beauty; it is all surrounding. Let it be in words you speak, How you feel, what you hear. Make the reality so astounding.

Big Elephants Are Ugly, I was taught To remember the spelling of beauty. Surely nothing is ugly All beings are created by God. Wasn’t it the nature of His duty?

And if ugliness should rear its head Do your best to stamp it out. Don’t for one second let it win For that would be a mortal sin. Beauty is; there is no doubt! © Ann Robinson, Langley Story Group

If you go to the lake

Beauty is a rainbow

If you go to Hollingworth Lake in Littleborough where I live, it is beautiful. All the flowers, and people walking around the lake with their big woollen hats on, and children playing with their boats. There are shops selling books all about the lake and Littleborough. The boys and girls go rowing every night, and then at weekends they go rowing in different towns. Some win gold or silver medals. The lake is very alluring when the sun shines over it, all the different colours you can see. The trees shine in the sunshine.

Beauty is: experiencing the excited jumping of a child waiting for Christmas. Beauty is: a private joke told by the eyes and laughter of lifelong friends. Beauty is: the 10-year-old black and white cat who snuggles up to you and purrs whenever you feel ill or down. Beauty is: the 100-year-old tree in the park housing chirping lovebirds and fast-moving squirrels, and feeding our lungs. Beauty is: realising that being is as important as doing. Beauty is: learning that to forgive is to rise above evil, and is better than living weighed down by an iron heart full of hate. Beauty is: seeing a sunset paint fields and highlight trees. Beauty is: finally hearing a daughter’s laughter after seeing her so sad for so long. Beauty is: loving yourself no matter what, loving yourself no matter how many cynics try to kill your spirit.

Frosting of snow Leaves or branch Feathery white Frosting snow Reflecting beauty Palettes of pure Snowy blossom Hinting snowdrop Shimmying light Beautiful fragile snow Nature’s canvas of green Elusive dust from angel’s wings An artist’s paintbrush dream.

Over to you...

beauty

Beauty and life are God’s creations! When he created life, he created beauty too Life itself is a gift from God How precious, how adorable Without life there is no beauty and without beauty there is no life © Saleem Malik, Deeplish Story Group

B E A U T Y

Cartwheel Arts and Tell Us Another One present

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Scribble Festival 2013

LITERATURE CONFERENCE LITERATURE CONFERENCE TUESDAY 11th JUNE 2-9pm TUESDAY 11th JUNE 2-9pm

• Keynote speech by Robert McCrum - Writer and former Editor of thee-writing Observer • Debates on translation, editing, and more • Debates on translation, editing, e-writing and more Live music • Performances by Tony Walsh, Young Identity Spoken word performances including Tony Walsh and Leeds Young Authors

WRITING FESTIVAL

WEDNESDAY 12th JUNE 2-9pm

Beauty I saw a swan with its mate entwined in togetherness I saw a spider’s web; wet with dew hanging like a diamond necklace on a privet hedge I saw a newborn smile at its mother the mother enveloped her child with love I saw a row of spring flowers fluttering and dancing in the breeze I saw the sweet face of a kitten head on one side, asking: why? I saw the world living as one and me asking: why not? © Frances Ardern, Seedfield Story Group

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beauty

• Creative writing workshops on animals, laughter, origins, and the forbidden • Live music from Little Sparrow • Spoken word performances including Jackie Kay MBEE Jackie Kay was born to a Scottish mother and Nigerian father, adopted as a baby and brought up in Scotland. She has published five collections of poetry for adults (The Adoption Papers won the Forward Prize, a Saltire Award and a Scottish Arts Council Book Award) and several for children. She was awarded an MBE in 2006.

All at the Friends’ Meeting House, 6 Mount Street, Manchester M2 5NS Tickets for Jackie Kay’s performance are £10 / £4 concessions. All else is free but please reserve your place at www.ticketline.co.uk or contact emma@cartwheelarts.org.uk / (01706) 361300 for a booking form Free buffet each day at 5.30pm - please RSVP Scribble Festival is not held under the auspices of the Religious Society of Friends.

See you there!

Focus ON...

publications We’re all about getting your work out there, so whether it’s through a blog, a spoken word event or print, be sure to share what you write and take what people have to say on board. Here are 3 writers with new work out to shout about:

Gemma Lees Gemma was inspired to write the new collection Smart Stories For Clever Kids after becoming disillusioned with the range of issue-based children’s books currently available on the market. Her aim was to use the kind of bright, colourful and off-the-wall characters used in popular children’s television programmes, and language that would appeal to a range of ages. The book was designed to be read to children in Key Stage 1 and by those in Key Stage 2. The four allegorical (symbolic) stories do not overtly portray their messages and were written to be enjoyable first and foremost, whilst also teaching children about attitudes towards mental health problems, racism, feelings and disability. The four stories are: ‘Bowbow and the Broken Brain’ ‘Jibblywobb Learns about Loving and Bashing’ ‘Maxalotl the only Blipblap who Couldn’t Fly’ and Federico the half-Fishen half-LoveLove’. The book is available on Amazon priced £18. 32

Jill Pemberton We are delighted to be sharing this new book from emerging Bury writer Jill Pemberton. Forgotten Dreams and Nightmares is a romantic fairy story which gently explores the relationship between good and evil. Beautiful poems begin many sections, drawing you gently through the book. The story can be enjoyed by ages 14 to grown ups..

Tony Walsh Prestwich poet Tony Walsh, aka Longfella, is no stranger to Scribble readers who will be queueing up for his debut poetry collection, out now from Burning Eye Books. Tony has been an acclaimed performer at a number of Cartwheel Arts events, and has led popular workshops with several of our local writers’ groups in recent years. The hefty 168 page book, nearly 10 years in the making, is called Sex & Love & Rock & Roll and can be ordered via Tony’s website at www.longfella.co.uk for £10 including free UK post and packaging. Tony tells us: “Adrian Mitchell famously said that ‘most people ignore most poetry because most poetry ignores most people.’ I’ve tried really hard not to do that in my book and people are telling me that the book is full of poems that they can really relate to; poems that make them laugh as well as poetry which moves them to tears not bores them to tears! After years as a performance poet I’m really excited now to be sharing my words on the page.” Tony performs regularly around Manchester and nationally, with all dates appearing on his website at the above link. He’ll also be leading a workshop and hosting our Conference and Scribble Festival in June (see page 31). Good luck with the book Tony - we can’t wait to read it!

Beautiful things kids say Here are a couple of beauties from the grandson of Fitton Hill Story Group member Marie Hargreaves - one sweet and one sad.

“Why has Grandad got toy teeth, Grandma?” Pierson sadly lost his Grandad last year. When it came to Christmas Marie said:

“Write down 3 things you would like for Christmas, Pierson.” “I will, Grandma. Two toys and a picture of Grandad.” Pierson, aged 6

Competition Corner Milnrow poet Seamus Kelly helped us judge the beauty competition entries this time. Check out his writing at http://shaythinkingtoomuch.blogspot.co.uk/. We had real difficulty choosing the runner up to the adults’ competition as there were so many good entries this time. We thoroughly enjoyed discussing the submissions though, so thank you to everyone who sent in entries. Special credit goes to Jill Pemberton for “Secret beauty”, Bex Candy for “Beauty” and Hazel Connolly for “Sexy at Sixty”. Young writers Ellie Fox, Grace M. Elisha Gleave and Maisie Gleave all did a great job too.

Young Writers’ Competition All Souls Brownies, Heywood had another workshop with the fabulous Katie Haigh this quarter, resulting in lots of great pieces and this winning piece by Jessica Adams-Fielding. Well done Jessica!

The sky is as blue as the sea. The sky is as dark as a treetrunk at night. When the sky is so blue it reminds me of the ocean. Sometimes when I see the sky it looks so bright. © Jessica Adams-Fielding, aged 7

Here is a sweet entry from the granddaughter of Marie Hargreaves of Fitton HiIl Story Group. Just too cute to resist printing!

My space adventure Dear Diary It is 9am and I am going up onto the moon. Last night my wife packed my bags so I didn’t have to get up early because I had to have a shower (because I wouldn’t have been able to have a shower on the moon). I am as high as a kite now and I can see the whole world and the world is covered in white marshmallows. 34

* Please note there is a teachers strike on 27th June so this event may be postponed. Please call Emma on (01706) 361300 to confirm.

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Writers’ Competition

1st

Writers’ Competition

Well done to Freda Robinson of our very own Langley Story Group, Middleton for this exceptional take on a classic. We were very impressed with how you interpreted this and how you competed with strong writers from across the North West. You must be taking note of all those writing tricks we’re passing on :-)

2nd

Irises

She lay there quietly ,wondering what had woken her. She had had such an unusual dream. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, then gave a gasp. There was a man at the side of her bed. She felt a moment of terror and opened her mouth to scream. Then he smiled at her as if to say everything is all right. She relaxed, thinking, “He’s quite good looking. I wonder where I am? Is this a hospital? What has happened to me?” The man said, “shhh, everything is all right, you are quite safe. I will explain everything in a minute. Can I get you a drink?” She nodded, realising she was very thirsty. He handed her a drink of water and helped her to sit up. She drank the water and felt a little better.

How beautiful they are, the irises. Not dainty, fragile flowers, They do not coyly hide their heads, Or blush in pretty modesty. But sturdy like flagpoles, Their petals palest yellow, white, Fluttering like loyal pennants, They rise in kindly height And substantial thick-set stems, Supported in their lonely climb by grassy leaves. Dependable, reliable and strong, Yet not arrogant or proud, A reassuring shoulder. How beautiful they are, the irises. © Carol Brown

She touched her cheek, which held the imprint of his kiss. He smiled and said, “right Sleeping Beauty, I am Prince Henry. Have I got a story for you.” 36 36

Sadly this is the last issue of Scribble magazine for a while so look online for other writing competitions to keep your creative juices flowing. Just ensure you read the small print - many charge an entrance fee or ask you to buy expensive copies of the collections. Work out what it’s worth to you and stick to it! 37 37

What’s Going On Readers’ Competition Well done to John Herbert for sharing this wonderful review of a book about beauty. A £15 voucher and Helen Clare’s Mollusc are in the post to you.

Sadly our project is coming to an end for the time being while we try and find further funding. However, some Story Groups are continuing in a voluntary capacity so check out the website of your local library or pop in and ask them if they know of other writing groups in your area. This is a great website too - www.readinggroups.org Scribble festival Wednesday 12th June, Friends Meeting House (see page 31 for full information) ‘Another Open Poetry Night’ run by Just Poets takes place at the The Baum, 33-37 Toad Lane, Rochdale, the second Sunday of every month at 7.30pm. It’s free. For more info call Norman on (01706) 670829

A book called Peacocks in Paradise is a book that to me epitomises beauty in many forms. It is a factual story and concerns a landowner in Wales who created paradise on earth. He live in a house named Hafod; its garden was one of the wonders of its age. The most touching aspect of the story is that although the garden became an attraction to the great and the good of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, it had been created for the owner’s daughter. The girl was sickly and could not travel, prompting her father to make her surroundings as wondrous as possible. Despite her ill health the girl was gifted as both a musician and an artist. She found great joy in sketching and painting her earthly paradise until she was called to another paradise at an all too early age. The book touched me in may ways - the beauty of a father’s love for his daughter, her own appreciation of the beauty of nature and music and most of all it was the beauty of the girl’s own love of life though it was tragically cut short. © John Herbert

There are 2 writing groups we know of in Bury: • Brandlesholme Community Centre and Library Brandlesholme Road, Bury, fortnightly on a Friday 10am-12 • Coronation Road Community Centre and Library Westminster Ave, Radcliffe, Tuesdays 2-4pm weekly (both are free) Touchstones Gallery in central Rochdale (on the Esplanade) also have a creative writing group at 2pm on the 1st Thursday of every month. Langley Writers • Burnside Community Centre, 38 Burnside Crescent, at 12.30pm on the 2nd Monday of each month • Demesne Community Centre, Asby Close, at 2pm on the 3rd Thursday of each month Open Mics • Write Out Loud’s fantastic open mic night at Ring O’Bells, St Leonard’s Sq, Middleton, every fourth Sunday at 7pm • Weaving Words is the second Monday of each month, 5.30pm at Rochdale Central Library Once More with Meaning A monthly poetry night with readings from open-micers and guest poets. First Sunday of every month, 7.30pm at The Met, Bury (entrance through Automatic). £2 (£1 concs) Tickets on the door only.

q Find us on Facebook: Cartwheel Arts (look for the blue hand!) Follow us @cartwheelarts Youtube: Cartwheelartsonline

Scribble c/o Tell Us Another One Cartwheel Arts, 110 Manchester Street, Heywood OL10 1DW t: 01706 361300 f: 01706 361400 e: emma@cartwheelarts.org.uk w: www.cartwheelarts.org.uk www.tellusanotherone.org This book is made from 100% recycled paper

design & print: www.tyme design.com