Day Sixteen – What We Should Do For Sealife?

WHAT SHOULD WE DO FOR SEALIFE ? 

Learn. Listen. Act.
We know the problems earth is experiencing
as a result of unsustainable living.
It takes collective will and unity,
ego-less leadership committed to evolution,
to affect a whole globe for greater good.

Greedy hearts of stone govern this fossil-fuel holocaust.
Until we stop fucking fracking,
ban slash-and-burn cash crop palm oil farming,
the earth’s deep nurturing soul will still be dying.

The ocean is snided with rubbish ;
we’re eating micro plastic. Why does it happen ?

It’s about what food we eat – and how it’s produced.
The current view : oceans are a fishery resource.
Meat and fish production takes up vast space.
Vegetarianism is a sound health choice and it relieves that strain.
Earth is a living breathing entire organism – Lovelock’s Gaia Theory.
The biggest change will need to occur inside the human brain.

The ocean could be farming nutritious kelp, if we had a taste for it.
There are bio-degradeable alternatives to packaging ;
so it’s about education and behaviour change,
harnessing innovation to solve man-made problems.

Adopting large scale renewables,
would drastically reduce fossil fuel use, with its choking oil spills.
If we electrified the grid, provided home chargers for e-cars,
we would no longer rely on it to drive the wheels our journeys.

Lobby the politician – Make positive change happen.
Health is wealth – The alternative is extinction.

Stop monoculture which exhausts both sea and land.
Stop over-fishing; let populations recover.
Value nature and conservation properly.
Protect our natural heritage with strong wildlife laws and designation.
A shark in a tank is not a wild creature at home – it’s a zoo;
Surviving is not enough. Creatures have rights too.
Take whaling, it’s a blood diamond –
where there’s conflict, there’s profit, but for who ?

Respect your children’s right to breathe clean air;
share and enjoy nature’s wild garden.
Give them chance to live in harmony ;
thrive in this blue-green Eden.

Climate change is our Armageddon.
7.8 billion human sheep inhabit this planet.
Fake news – fear and anger – corrodes unity.
While we remain divided and misinformed,
our chance of survival erodes.

What can humans do ? Cue Greta …
Lobby politicians for change.
Commit to climate action.
Stop land-filling the earth with holes.
Recycle more materials. Use less packaging.
Eat less meat, better still go veggie.
Reduce air miles – buy local and seasonal.
Purchase renewable energy. Drive an electric car.

Force our Government to invest in health and long term well-being
of natural and human environments in tandem.
Reject their bullshit economic argument about job creation;
ignore all the lies and misinformation. Switch the telly off.

This is mother earth’s planet,
not real estate owned by a megacorporation;
some waffly-verbose-manipulating politician.

Be proud of what you do and you –
This is mother earth’s planet, but England is your nation;
Your tiny slice of heaven.
What we buy and don’t buy counts,
What we demand strongly enough,

-John Wolf 8th August 2021.

Fifteenth Day -Shoreline

-All photos by Geoff Holmes

Beyond The Bounds by Geoff Holmes

http://geoffsreflections.blogspot.com/search?q=beyond+the+bounds

-Steven Stokes (chwydd y môr – Welsh for ‘sea swell’)

Sea E-Scape

Relax, close your eyes and listen
to the gentle sound of salty waves
lapping against a sun kissed shore
feel the delicate sea breeze
admire the orange tinged sunset
gaze upon the far away horizon
which seems impossible to reach
and know the fear and doubt
can be overcome
in the secret and secluded sea scape
of your mind

-Diane Rossi

SHORELINES 

The only sure lines in life
are those drawn by the maker.

A tiny turtle who speed-skitters to reach the surf,
what is his life worth ?
That sharp-eyed ever-present shadow,
is hard-wired to hunger.

Each nip of a lobster claw,
every dodge of beak and maw,
life becomes slightly better prepared for.

Coping strategies for limpets to hold on.
Anchoring to sea grass with a prehensile tail.
Hiding amongst floating weeds until the coast is clear.

But when the tide dumps you onto a beach
like a refuse pile,
amongst other refugees you mingle,
Scratting amongst steamy bladder-wrack
slipping twix bits of stony shingle.

This is No Man’s Land for whale, mermaid, turtle;
because limbs so agile out there,
drag without the buoyancy of water.
Opportunists rub their hands –
a Gull’s sharp beak plucks defenceless turtlings
from beach to sky,
where it is all but certain now, these little mites,
before really living, will die.

Nature is crueller than Jimmy Saville.
Only some species survive the transition.
Ones who tolerate salt, wind, drought ;
Ones who eat other ones slow on their feet ;
Ones who manage to return to their natural habitat;
Ones who avoid being boiled alive by people;
One is a small number.

To survive a shoreline requires specialist skill,
sense to select a sure line your life will take.
Is it instinct, or luck, which determines,

-John Wolf 7th August 2021.

-Ann McDonald

-Ryan Gibbs (First published in Mediterranean Poetry)

https://soundcloud.com/sonja-benskin-mesher/head-above-water-a-swimmers-perspective?utm_source=clipboard&utm_campaign=wtshare&utm_medium=widget&utm_content=https%253A%252F%252Fsoundcloud.com%252Fsonja-benskin-mesher%252Fhead-above-water-a-swimmers-perspective

.head above water – a swimmer’s perspective.

Metaphorically, i have spent much of my life, keeping my head above water.

Dealing with life facts and disappointments, not forgetting the quiet times to help the work along

I lived on the coast, played by the sea

As a child, I floated gently until all became spongey. Now I swim head above water, up and down obsessively counting, hoping all will come clear..

Friends in water talk more, baring much, reflecting their clothing

I am drawn to water, my work reflective. Writing, swimming, painting, drawing.

I collect cuttings of people in water.

“a diary, a personal relationship with the landscape.

“Shoreline would be more an exploration of the concept….shorelines more related to actual examples…..how about that?

Shoreline…..an ever-changing interface……between 2 media…..2
worlds…..can be crossed in both directions, but only temporarily?……but
aren’t we only here because something had the courage to cross
permanently…..something emerging from the sea is such a powerful
image….turtles, ursula andress in dr. no, monsters from the deep…..and
why do we find it such an attractive place to be
xx salty”

sbm.

Sea Shanty

I’ll sing you a song of the foreshore and strand
Way down Redcar
I’ll sing you a song of the foreshore and strand
And we’re bound for the vertical pier.

Then howay, pet, howay,
Way down Redcar.
So tara to all you who bewailed the cost
For we’re bound for the vertical pier.

Sing ‘Hello there Beacon, all shiny and new,’
Oh, down Redcar.
And ‘Hello steps up to the wraparound view,’
For we’re bound for the vertical pier.

Then Howay, pet, Howay,
Way down Redcar
And tara to all you who bewailed the cost
For we’re bound for the vertical pier

And this is Redcar

You’ll love it here. There’s sand and sea. Sometimes there is sun. And sex is not unlikely.
The wind turbines off-shore add to the attraction, don’t you think? Look at them milling their arms like old lady giants at a keep-fit class.
The beach is wide – ideal for dogs and horses too. Watch out for the shit. Just on that stretch though. There’s family sand nearer to town.
You should’ve seen it when we came on club trips as kids. You couldn’t move for deck chairs, windbreaks, kiosks selling jugs of tea. And shuggy-boats and that high slide we used to climb, clutching a little mat to sit on, glide down again. These days, there’s roundabouts and trampolines.
There is a pier – maybe you haven’t noticed? It’s vertical. Looks like a helter-skelter. Some say it’s an abomination. I like it though. Do you? It catches your eye, scintillating purple in the sun. And you can climb it like a spiral staircase, come out at the top, view the town, the waves, the length of beach.
Oh look! The sand’s all gone down there, swept away by storms last month. A morass of mud now amid the remains of ancient forest – see, stumps, branches, roots, at least 7000 years old, they reckon. It’s really brought the people in. Hundreds more than usual
though it’s always popular here on Sundays, a multicultural crowd strolling along, facing that North Sea wind, buying lemon tops from Pacitto’s, eating chips in the refurbed shelters near the water-spurts.
That way? That’s South Gare. You can watch tankers head into Teesport, visit the little village of fishermen’s huts, crooked chimneys smoking.
Over there? The steel works. Closed down. They’re dismantling it.

Undercover in Redcar

We scan the beach, note
the exuberance of dogs bounding
across the sand into the waves,
peer into flotsam – sea coal, crab claws,
razor shells, the vertebrae of fish.
The sea has set them out;
displays them warily; sidles
up to check their whereabouts.

On wet shore, horseshoes sink, tracks
confused with paw marks, footprints.
At South Gare, we miss the steps,
scramble instead over the rocks, haul up
by rusting No Entry sign. A tanker
heads in to Teesport, noiseless under
the wind’s bluster, the churn of waves.
We survey through our binoculars.

Tugs close in. Dwarfed by its bulk,
they chivvy the ship their way and it goes
quietly. Round the corner, fishermen’s huts
are shuttered, hunkered down
against the searching wind. One smoking
chimney signals as we walk past.
Down the road, in the hulk of steelworks,
one light pretends that things go on as normal.

4 stanzas in the North Sea wind
1
In hulk of steelworks, one light pretends that things go on as normal
though the blast furnace is turned off, coke ovens extinguished,
a community of workers left to cool five years ago
in the North Sea wind.

2
Sea coal, crab claws, razorshells, the vertebrae of fish,
footprints, pawprints, hoofprints,
the runes of sanderling and oystercatcher
honour the North Sea wind.

3
The pier is a beacon, draws you to its verticality.
Offshore turbines, bright as local Lemon Tops,
transmute energy, wring electricity
from the North Sea Wind.

4
Turbines’ feet become mini-reefs where the benthos
spawn, forage, shelter – molluscs, bivalves, worms,
echidnoderms stirring up carbon, foundation of our world
beneath the North Sea wind.

Redcar, March

Windy Redcar beach.
Caterpillar tracks lead us to another age.
Creatures once light and fluid
lie heavy now in dark stone.

Sea water fizzles, bubbles
round smooth stones, sinks.
Lugworms extrude their sand-spaghetti heaps,
wind-strewn white feathers cling,
icing the sticky shingle.

Mussel shells crunch under heels.
Sanderlings skitter in unison
and oyster-catchers, herded by the waves,
pipe complaints.

From the sea
I am rooted in the sea.
Waves roll stone after
stone, anchor my feet.
Foam spawns round my ankles,
aeon-worn grit grips my toes,
encrusts them like barnacles –
my feet are ancient artefacts
brought up by divers.
Salt of the sea, I crawl
(too painful to stand)
up the shingle
(unable to stand)
until I reach dry land.

Sea Change

Crisped brittle-black,
I contort in salty sunlight.
Time was, I’d glide, fluid,
slime-slide. Then, I swayed
sinuous. Now, I twist on the shingle, dried.
Once, immortal water wrote my name.
Now, I’m just a scribble on the shore,
a frozen writhing, a mourning ribbon
tied to the sea’s portal.

-All poems above by Ann Cuthbert

Bios And Links

-Geoff Holmes

was born in Cambridge and grew up in Jersey and East Anglia.  He now lives in Barnsley, South Yorkshire where he tries to improve his local greenspace, the Swanee.  He is lucky also to be able to spend time quite often on The Wash at Snettisham Beach. He is father to four children and was once a vicar but now works in medical statistics and modelling.

-Ryan Gibbs

is an English professor who lives in London, Canada. His over forty published poems have appeared in journals and anthologies in Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom, Malta, and Saint Pierre and Miquelon. His children’s poetry has been included in the State of Texas Assessment of Academic Readiness.

-Steven Stokes

is a South Wales-based haikuist who began writing and sharing his poetry in 2020. Steven publishes his work via stevenlstokes.wordpress.com and three of his poems were included in the recent Dylan Thomas-inspired anthology ‘How Time has Ticked a Heaven Around the Stars’

Fourteenth Day – Deep Sea

Open Sea photo by Paul Brookes

MIkely and Monkey are wavily, bobbily swimming along
In search of the ear-splitting, teeth-rasping din.
Noddily, dippily riding the splish-splashy waves,
Deep in the bubbly shadows,
Gloomily rears a sinister silhouette

Of a chain-rattley, ghost-hidey wreck

Of a surge-fluttery, sting-bristly squid

Of a claw-snappy, eye-poppy crab

Of a side-swipey, jaw-grabby shark

Of a jump-happy, play-smiley dolphin

Of a sore-weepy, shrill-screechy…… angler fish

The song is called Wavily Bobbily and was composed for Swansfield Park Primary School in Alnwick using the children’s own ideas. They imagine a disturbing noise at the bottom of the ocean, set off to investigate and come across plenty of other undersea creatures before they finally find the source of the noise. The creatures and other things that the divers find can easily be substituted by new ideas from a new class!

-Cheryl Camm

DEEP SEA 

I’m an Angler
a cunning dangler.
Follow the shiny light . . .

“She’s a fearsome gob on her !
Get this – reporter in a bathyscape,
friend of Attenborough,
down here, interviewing me !
You’re Di-curious ?
We’re Dimorphic – what do I do ?
Skinny man, sperm donor.
I’ve been called a parasite, imagine that ?
I’m basically a gonad. I’ve had worse gigs.
Big momma’s the boss.”

I’m John Wayne.
This unsuspecting swim past,
will be your last.
Boom !
Join the larder.
Bobbit.
What’s my name ?

It’s official, I’m the world’s ugliest animal.
Pour me a beer, sport.
“What ya got there skippy ?
Oh, it’s a Blobfish.”

A gelatinous mass
with a gas-filled ass
it can swim but chooses to float.
It lives at abyssal pressure
so bringing one up here tends to depress her

-John Wolf 6th August 2021

Pelagic

We are not dry land, we are open sea.
Marine snow, always falling detritus,
feed zooplankton, organisms in deep sea,
where sunlight cannot reach you will find us.

We are more different deeper you go.
Muscular bodies become flabby, strong
ossified bones become weak, eyes so
large, sensitive, small, heart too, pressured throng.

Lantern fish, a sound scattering layer,
deeper when the moon is out, if a cloud
passes over moon, it becomes shallower.
Night ascent, day return to cold, dark crowd.

Depth changes the way we live, how we are.
Shallower, more predators, under stars.

-Paul Brookes

Bios And Links

Cheryl Camm

is a composer living in Northumberland. Her songs for schools and choirs are performed around the world. Recent commissions include a celebratory song for a retiring RAF helicopter pilot, songs for composing workshops at the Hepworth Wakefield Gallery and a song celebrating and mourning the remarkable hen harriers for Hen Harrier Day 2020.

Thirteenth Day – Coastal And Marine Vegetation

 

Flat holm / Steep holm

Too Welsh for the English
Too English for the Welsh,
sometimes it seems I should make my home
in the middle of the Severn estuary
with oozings and miles of mud,
to be drowned twice a day in the brisk tide
as punishment or reminder that I am
Too English for the Welsh
Too Welsh for the English.

But I am all oyster-catcher
and sand eel, stunted grass and drift,
flat-topped and steep-sided on my
island-home sanctuaries come prisons,
places reserved for those who are
Too Welsh for the English
Too English for the Welsh,
where all kinds of gull call and cry,
but cannot teach me the anthem’s words.

I am wild peony and golden samphire,
Buck’s plantain and wild leeks
snaked about by slow worms, blue
in their markings like the sea.
I am crane’s bill and trefoil, stone crop
and rock lavender, all the colours
of land and sky, yet still
Too English for the Welsh
Too Welsh for the English.

-Kate Noakes

Sea Rocket

5,000 miles in a 747
have taken you to Harris Beach, Oregon,
to find Sea Rocket by the boardwalk
where nobody will ever know your name
and the place you’ve come from:

Seaburn, where the same genus of plant
stowed perchance in cargo holds
to unfurl in spores at Hendon Docks
now protrudes from dunes by the North Sea
which you know doesn’t know your name.

Later, looking into the window front
of the Brookings branch of the Democrats
you’re mistaken for an eager voter
who shares a common belief
in free access to public health care.

Pineapple Weed grows in the slats
of paving here, too—the way it does
on the Ash path where your parents live.
Some things you know the names for,
others you’re yet to learn.

-Jake Morris-Campbell (This poem – first published by Fragmented Voices – is from a sequence written for Stringing Bedes: A Poetry and Print Pilgrimage, a Heritage Lottery Funded project which linked the twinned Wearmouth-Jarrow monasteries in 2015-16.)

Ray Mears Beavering A Wild Wind-swept scene

Dense spiky tufts, bind the dunes.
Swaying, lush, feathery, coastal prairie.
Knobbly, slimy, tide-abandoned.

Succulently seeding salt-flats in vibrant green,
is it baby asparagus; no
it’s a a thornless mini-cactus.

Blasted gorse.
Wind-bent Pine.
Wasted wine bottle
misses message.

Sea Campion –
Witches’ Thimble.
Meet me on the shore;
Wear a carnation.

Fancy a cabbage ?
Tried sea kale ?
A splurge of stems
root in shingle.

Salt-laden winds, shifting ground,
challenge a plant –
they respond with tolerance.

Needle-leaves, yellow flowers, rock-niched.
Is that coconut I smell ?
Of gorse.

Sea Thrift; Sea Pink ; Rock rose ;
in low clumps, marshed, shored,
on cliffs it grows.
It’s nectar-rich flowers
buzz with pollinators.

What hides behind those dunes ?

Vikings . . .
Off road buggies . . .
Nudists . . .
Trendy Cuisine . . .
Ray Mears beavering . . .

-John Wolf 5th August 2021.

The Marine Sonnets

Marine Plants (List Poem)

Eel Grass, Sea Grass or Grass Wrack, Dwarf Eel Grass
or Sea Grass, Marram Grass, Sand Sedge, Hound’s Tongue
Sea Couch, Sea Rocket , Common Scurvygrass,
Sea Kale, Yellow Horned Poppy, Adder’s Tongue.

Sea Holly, Sea Spurge, Sea Stock, Sea Spleenwort,
Autumn Lady’s Tresses, Rock Sea Spurrey,
Ray’s Knotgrass, Sea Milkwort, Long-spiked Glasswort,
Sea Beet, Sea Stork’s-bill, Lesser Sea Spurrey.

English Scurvygrass, Shore Dock, Autumn Squill,
Common Glasswort, Sea Arrow-grass, Rock Samphire,
Cord-grass, Sand or Warren Crocus, Spring Squill,
Sea Pink, Sea Daffodil, Golden Samphire.

Saltwort, Buck’s-horn Plantain, Sea Plantain,
Sea Campion, Sea Aster, Sea Purslane,

Eel Grass to Sea Arrow Grass (As Found List Poem)

Eel Grass, Sea Grass or Grass Wrack, Dwarf Eel Grass
or Sea Grass, Marram Grass, Sand Sedge,
Frosted Orache, Sea Rocket, Sea Bindweed,
Sea Kale, Hound’s Tounge, Sea Holly, Sea Spurge,
Yellow Horned Poppy, Sea Stock, Adder’s Tongue,
Sea Daffodil, Ray’s Knotgrass, Sand
or Warren Crocus, Saltwort, Sea Spleenwort,
Sea Pink or Thrift, Hottentot Fig,
Rock Samphire, Sea Stork’s-bill,
Golden Samphire, Rock Sea Lavender,
Buck’s-horn Plantain,Sea Plantain,
Shore Dock, Autumn Squill,
Spring Squill, Sea Campion,
Rock Sea Spurrey, Autumn Lady’s Tresses,
Sea Aster, Sea Purslane, Sea Beet,
English Scurvygrass, Common Scurvygrass
Sea Couch, Sea Milkwort, Long-spiked Glasswort,
Common Glasswort, Purple Glasswort,
Perennial Glasswort, Common Cord-grass,
Townsend’s Cord-grass Lesser Sea Spurrey,
Annual Seablite, Sea Arrow-grass.

-Paul Brookes

Bios And Links

-Kate Noakes

is a PhD student at the University of Reading researching contemporary British and American poetry. He most recent collection is The Filthy Quiet, Parthian, 2019. She lives in London.

-mary frances

Mary works with found art, collage, and cut-up text, always curious about alternative ways of looking and the rearrangement of things. She walks a lot, with a pocket camera, drawn to small, hidden, or neglected places where she takes pictures of things which may or may not be there.

-Jake Morris-Campbell

is a writer, critic and tutor based in Tyne & Wear. His debut collection of poetry, Corrigenda for Costafine Town, is forthcoming with Blue Diode Press. This poem – first published by Fragmented Voices – is from a sequence written for Stringing Bedes: A Poetry and Print Pilgrimage, a Heritage Lottery Funded project which linked the twinned Wearmouth-Jarrow monasteries in 2015-16.

Day Twelve -Sea Shanties, and other sea songs

 

-Anjum Wasim Dar

Sea Shanty

I long for the peaceful sea
the vast water floor holding me
aloft I float undisturbed
and I just sing
Ho Ho Ho, Step firm on the deck’
Hold On Hold On, on the deck’
I long for the peaceful sea
if only I were on Phlae
waving the burgee
but I just sing
Ho Ho Ho step firm on the deck
Hold on Hold on, on the deck
I long for the peaceful sea
so I could sail my razee
all over free
but I hold on, see!
Ho Ho Ho step firm on the deck
Hold on Hold On, on the deck
By
Anjum Wasim Dar

Chantey for the Merfolk’s Child

The sea is wide, the sea is wild.
Sing hey and haul away.
Raise a song for the merfolk’s child.
Haul away my dears.

She was born on a different wave.
Sing hey and haul away.
The treasured child of the merfolk brave.
Away and have no fears.

The sea is dark, the sea is deep.
Sing hey and haul away.
The merfolk sing the sea to sleep.
Haul away my dears.

The merfolk’s child was sweet and mild.
Sing hey and haul away.
But the ocean’s heart is old and wild.
Away and have no fears.

The night was nigh and the waves rose high.
Sing hey and haul away.
They swept the merfolk’s child away.
Haul away my dears.

She washed up on a homely strand.
Sing hey and haul away.
A strange and human-haunted land.
Away and have no fear.

The merfolk’s child sang sweet and strong.
Sing hey and haul away.
But you shouldn’t go where you don’t belong.
Haul away my dears.

The landfolk turned and ignored her plight.
Sing hey and haul away.
For landfolk just don’t know what’s right.
Away and have no fears.

But the sailors saw and they knew the score.
Sing hey and haul away.
For merfolk can’t live up on shore.
Haul away my dears.

They took her back to the deep and black.
Sing hey and haul away.
Close-hauled tight on the sunset track.
Away and have no fears.

A storm arose and wild it blows.
Sing hey and haul away.
It blew all around the compass rose
Haul away my dears.

The topsails tore and the mast came down.
Sing hey and haul away.
But the merchild sang them safe through storm.
Away and have no fears.

They brought the merchild safely home.
Sing hey and haul away.
And she swore she never more would roam.
Haul away my dears.

The sinking wreck with its broken deck.
Sing hey and haul away.
The merfolk raised it and sent it back.
Away and have no fears.

So if you see the merfolk’s child.
Sing hey and haul away.
Sat on a beach stone sweet and mild.
Haul away. Haul away.
Leave her alone my dears, my dears.
Away and have no fears.

-Yvonne Marjot

SEA SHANTEY 

My soul is the sound of the sea
bonny lads
from the first heartbeat’s echo
to her haunting melancholy.

She calls to to me, calls to me
as we haul and we haul
dark drink from the bilge bonny lads
and we haul and we’re free.

My soul is the sound of the sea
bonny lads
White horses plough by the prow
and when I dream, she returns to me.

I yearn for the salty spray
bonny lads
Bitter bite
of the strong south-westerly

Haul of the rope on the rail
bonny lads
The swing of the boom
bonny lads

And one day I will dive to Davy Jones’ locker
Open treasure chest there
so long denied to me
bonny lads

Until then, she calls to me
on a siren’s lips like Spanish gold.
Calls to me, calls to me
so we haul and we haul
till we’re old bonny lads
and sing the song of the sea.

Afore dawn rises, scrub them decks,
bonny lads,
cleaner than a cabin boy’s chin.
Muzzle them canon good, bonny lads
For on the Spanish Main, we will win.

If you whalers get to tonguing
while the rest get to longing
know this, bonny lads –
We will hear Poseidon way before we see him
grasping like a Kraken
at lazy lackeys like thee !

Heave away, haul away, draw that anchor,
Feel the heart swell with pride.
For wild-adventure, we’ll go a-roving,
bonny lads
For we are away on the tide.

NOTES

As Sea Shantey is a song sung in RHYTHM with their work. They’re motivational or UPLIFTING, similar to negro spirituals sung by a chain gang in slavery.

Sailors sang shanties as they worked pumps up and down, (windlass shanty)
removing water from the hold of the ship.

They sang as they sanded the decks in the earliest hours of the morning,
or turned the capstan that pulled the heavy iron anchor up from the ocean floor,
or when they hauled sails into position.

Halyard shanties were sung during long laborious tasks.

Tonguing has a triple meaning :
Musical – Altering the voice in a staccato effect like a wind instrument.
Whaling term – Stripping blubber to make whale oil.
Spiritual – It is the voice of the gods. Sailors were superstitious.

-John Wolf 4th July 2021

Bios And Links

-Helen Meissner

started producing music last year. She calls herself a late starter as while she has been involved in the music promotion business for the last decade, she’s only just, in her mid fifties ventured into the creative arena herself.

Based in Hertfordshire, Helen, who calls herself Helefonix, is about to release her debut album Nature’s Grace. It is heavily influenced by the nature she’s captured around her over the last year and two of the tracks have had national radio play – (Teaching Darkness) How To Fly featuring poet/broadcaster Ian McMillan on Radio 3 and Song Thrush Serenade by Cerys Matthews on 6 Music.

Helen openly professes to be using lockdown inspired production methods to create her sonic landscapes. While the occasional human voice features in a track, most of her work is instrumental.

Nature’s Grace opens with Dawn Chorus and closes with Evensong. Her homage to the important rituals which top and tail her day. In between there are nine tracks which are unique and varied. The album is available on her website & is on general release 5^th Sept ‘21. A few of the tracks are already on her spotify page.

Bandcamp : https://helefonix.bandcamp.com/

Twitter :  https://twitter.com/helefonix

Soundcloud :  https://soundcloud.com/helefonix-midlifemix

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/Helefonix

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyLXvfwXjdPo1bsaF24t_3A

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/7xXiGIzlyGqrl91hDNb66i

Website : www.helefonix.co.uk

Email: helefonix@gmail.com