I write a monthly piece for Pirton's village magazine called 'Being Alive'. My pen name is the Owl. This months contribution was constructed during our walks around Hardy country and Corfe Castle yesterday. As it was created during the walks I thought I would share it with you. Be your own poem and write your own poetry on the world and I hope you enjoy it.
Being Alive
Pirton is a poem maturing like the finest words of the greatest Poet that ever lived. With its own dreamings, lines back through history and new words layered in each week it paints a picture of beauty and perfection. Each reader keen to write their own contribution adding to what has gone before and wondering what will happen next. Once land of nature with rambling growth all competing for its space and reaching to the sun. Buttercups, daisy, tall swaying grass, muddy pond and a background of rising hills ever present. One day a lonely man wandered in to this spot and wrote the first lines of poetry upon the land. Perhaps a fire and maybe a basic robe as his only cover at night as he rests upon the future Bury. He looks up and sees a mound that will not become a Motte and Bailey for thousands of years yet. It is far too soon to formulate the idea of a Church beside. All evidence of his lines are now erased. As in a great poem where the initial ideas are worked and reworked until the the words take on a shape of meaning and rightness all of their own. Like every great poem although gone those first words are the seed from which the full flower flourishes. As ideas of farming take shape in man’s mind the poem of Pirton takes more solid form. Drawing lines, putting up fences, forming alliances and in constant battle with the forces of nature Pirton is simply writ and grows with each new line. Orchard, garden, butcher, baker, weaver, thatcher, singer, farmer, worker, school, public house, playing field and footpath each creating its own verse. Rivalries, friendships, protests, births, marriages, children and deaths each play their part in the unfolding of the poem of Pirton.
You look around today and see the poem as it is. You take your pen, dip it in ink and ready yourself to add a few lines. You play your part just like the lonely wanderer that came before. You are a poem and a poet placing your prose in its perfect place in this verse called Pirton. You capture the wonders of Being Alive and make solid your thoughts within this masterpiece. Knowing a neighbour will come along and shave it here, smooth it there and add a little more making your idea stronger and richer within the tapestry of artists taking shape. Keep reading and writing on this pretty scene. Cross out or add to what is writ and if you think it is right pull out a new sheet to write something new.
Every moment of every day appreciate and enjoy the wonder of Being Alive.
The Owl
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