Another intriguing cloudshape from Julian Day which you can see on Paul Brookes’ blog here.
Hunting
If there were a wild hunt
it would be wild wolf-led
and I would follow
through high tide and gale
through tempest
and boiling clouds
cheek by wolf jowl
the hunting of the moon
the netting of the stars.
This poem is inspired by Julian Day’s photo. You can see it on Paul Brookes’ blog post here.
Silence
The sun is a whale’s eye
great blue
grey as waves on the ocean sky.
Shipwrecks below
thin voices rising
do you hear, do you care?
Grey waves break
timbers splinter in silence
le silence de la mer.
You wink and dive
taking Ahabs and von Ebrennacs
beyond the broken horizon
where perhaps the gulls
will have pity
and answer their questions.
A double badger’s hexastitch. The photos are here (trying to catch up).
The white breast feathers of a swan
Sky full
of the first things
feathered lizards scaled birds
blue mirror reflections
all that ever
crawled flew
soared seas
winged through oceans
breasted the high currents
white-plumed and rainbow-scaled.
On the still pool
wild swan.
PB15
JD15
Kane15
Experience Barnsley are celebrating a 1970s style Christmas this December with a 1970s themed living room in the museum complete with craft activities. To coincide with this we thought we’d delve into Barnsley Archives collections to share more #BarnsleyChristmas memories
We begin with a heart-warming short video of a Darfield family celebrating Christmas in the early 70s. Do you have films relating to Barnsley? We’re always on the look out to expand our film archive email archives@barnsley.gov.uk Subscribe to our YouTube account as we’re planning to share more films in 2022.
This photograph was taken at Athersley Junior School in 1970 by Roy Sabine, a local photographer. Do you recognise anyone in the photo? Please get in touch with us if you do, share your festive pics and memories with @BarnsArchives on Twitter
The cast from…
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Once a month, on the second Saturday (unless there are five Saturdays in the months, but that’s a different story) my wife and I volunteer in the café at Darfield Museum. I get my clean pinny out and put it in a bag; I make sure my phone is charged up because I’ll be taking photographs of the cakes and tweeting them to let the world know that we’re here, and I’ll make sure I’ve got some cash in my wallet because we don’t take cards. Not yet, anyway,
The volunteering begins for my wife the night before because that’s when she makes the delicious cake we’ll be selling the next day. Other volunteers bake cake and, of course, if you didn’t want to work in the café you’d be very welcome to bake us a cake/some buns/ a few scones/ a fruit loaf. The cake is baked and it…
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The Wombwell Rainbow 