Tag: lockdown

poetry appreciation

where the enchanted live

Aug 5, 2021 #Brendel playing schubert, #choir, #escape, #freedom, #Lisel mueller, #live music, #lockdown, #mueller, #music, #poem, #poetry, #rapture, #reopening, #singing, #transport by Lucy Crispin

Like many singers, I’m starting to look forward to stepping back into some version, at least, of the regular rhythm of rehearsing and performing which has been part of the structure of my life for—jings—4 decades now. At an informal sing in someone’s garden the other week (I can’t really dignify it by the title of rehearsal!) it was chastening to realise how much our voices have suffered from separation and silence. But it was still delicious to come together to make music, croaky and awkward as it was. I love the way Lisel Mueller honours and articulates the particular joy of live music (in the poem’s case, of listening to it). Read ‘Brendel Playing Schubert‘ or have it read to you (press the little arrow at the top. Poem starts c. 3.10.)

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poetry appreciation
forthcoming publications, news, poetry, publications

above the parapet

Aug 2, 2020 #closed, #competition news, #lockdown, #looking for stuff the solicitor needs, #mandatory blackbird poem, #new sentinel, #pennine platform, #poetry, #publications, #segora competition, #shades of blue, #spoonfeed by Lucy Crispin

Like most people, I imagine, I’ve found it hard to keep going with my usual activities these last few months—including writing, though it’s central to my life both as process and product. There’s just so much energy needed to keep so much stuff at bay; so much effort going into not shouting with rage or terror or sheer frustration (well not in public anyway)… Time, I thought to do some celebrating. Share some good news for a change.

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poetry appreciation

something to hold on to

Apr 16, 2020 #bird, #birds, #birdsong, #change, #corona virus, #Covid 19, #dawn chorus, #forest, #forest bathing, #grief, #Hirshfield, #Jane Hirshfield, #lockdown, #loss, #love, #nature, #The Promise, #trees, #woods by Lucy Crispin

Waking at 5.25 this morning I got straight out of bed and went to the wood behind my house where I walked slowly round, revelling in the full glory of the dawn chorus. I was still in my pyjamas so I’m glad I was there before the first dogwalkers and runners (in these days of lockdown they are infesting the times and places that—did they but know it—are actually MINE. I know; sorry.) But even though I didn’t get caught I was aware that this wasn’t exactly Normal Behaviour. I mean, sure, I walk pretty much every morning. But I usually get dressed first. It just didn’t seem worth it today.

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