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- Winston & his Random Poetry Generating Bicycle

Poetry inspired by a day in the Parsonage garden
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Having wrestled a little with the poetry jigsaw produced during a wonderful day at the Brontë Parsonage Museum last weekend it is my pleasure to present the resulting compositions. The experiment yielded two poems, which, by the nature of their composition are rather experimental of course.

Directly behind my machine in the garden grows one of the Cyprus pines planted by Charlotte Bronte and Arthur Nicholls with only a handful of guests in attendance as part of their wedding celebrations in 1854 before leaving for their honeymoon in Ireland. With great sadness Mr Nicholls was to loose both Charlotte and their unborn child within the year. The first poem, 1854 seemed to me to be talking about this short chapter of Brontë history, charged with such joyful and tragic news.


Something I talked about more than once in the garden was the sounds that we all heard. The steam trains, the wind in the trees, birds calling and the church clock. All these things would have sounded the same one hundred and fifty years ago and the second poem generated on the day, Listening Back is both celebratory and reflective and relates to this idea in part.





I would like to thank everyone who stepped up and took part and to the Museum for letting me be ‘Parsonage Poet’ for a day.
List of contributors –

A.B | Alba Ranns, Lancaster | Anon, Liverpool | Collins family, Elland | Denis, Loughborough | Emily and Andrew, Leeds | Eva-Rosa, Unicorn Land (aka Lancaster) | Fabiola, Budapest | Jack, Ava and Lottie, Thorn and Oakworth | Josh, Brighton | Layla and Hussayn, Lancaster | Lilly and Jenny, Crossroads | Martha and Sylvie, Leeds | Natasha Lea Jones, Darwen | Penny and Lottie, Stoke-on-Trent | Robbie and Richard, Leeds | Stephanie, Bristol | Trish, Adelaide | Yvonne and Andrew Holland, Rossendale





After the Wedding Breakfast

To the parsonage they came with joyful souls
surfing hopefully like flowers on a pink sea
waking up to a vision.
Happy was she
for pink is the colour of unicorns
on an amusing summer’s day

Departure for Ireland

A boat, a compass
and a relaxing glass of rose wine

One Year Later

Losing people is like fog;
the sand between two sandaled toes
closed and unlit shops
meeting in the dungeons.

Listening Back
A wheel of words
celebrating the grass of life
the lovely and luscious, grassy green
that coats the crazy, amazing fields of Yorkshire.
Dancing to happy rhythms
Laughter is the poetry of the soul
eccentric top hats trying to use a smartphone.
wonderful memories of times spent with mothers
healing memories, wishing they could see our future loves.
Loving our mothers is like loving aging wine
being in the moment
lying on a beach, on our backs listening to seagulls.
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