Today July 22 2016 we received the first of our Write The World inaugural annuals which will be launched at Harvard University in Boston USA shortly and which will also be launched at Avid Reader, West End in September. Details will be posted soon.
Congratulations to all of those girls who engage in the Write The World online community and in particular to those of you who had work selected for the annual.
Another celebratory moment came when I was presenting our Writing Community AND Write The World in the recent national AATE and ALEA Conference in Adelaide. The work that we do together was widely praised and inspired other educators to consider creating writing communities.
So today our theme is celebration.
HUGHES’ VOICE IN MY HEAD
As soon as we crossed into Yorkshire Hughes’ voice assailed me, unmistakable Gravel and honey, a raw celebration of rain Like a tattered lacework window; Black glisten on roof slates, Tarmac turned to shining ice, Blusters of naked wind whipping The wavelets of shifting water To imaginary floating islets On the turbulent river Glumly he asked, "Where are the mills?" Knowing their goneness in his lonely heart. "Where are the mines with their turning spokes, Lurking slag heaps, bolts of coal split with Shimmering fools’ gold tumbling into waiting wagons? Mostly what I came for was a last glimpse Of the rock hanging over my cot, that towering Sheerness fifty fathoms high screed with ferns And failing tree roots, crumbling footholds And dour smile. A monument needs to be known For what it is, not a tourist slot or geological stratum But the dark mentor loosing wolf’s bane At my sleeping head. " When the coach lurches over the county boundary, If not Hughes’ voice then Heaney’s or Hill’s Ringing like miners’ boots flinging sparks From the flagstones, piercing the lens of winter, Jutting like tongues of crooked rock Lapping a mossed slab, an altar outgrown, Dumped when the trumpeting hosannas Had finally riven the air of the valley. And I, myself, what did I make of it? The voices coming into my head Welcoming kin, alive or dead, my eyes Jerking to the roadside magpie, Its white tail-bar doing a hop, skip and jump.
|by Charles Bukowski Source :http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous_poems/long/celebration