inspiration – Page 21 – Hues of Hankinson

Stunned silence

The deafening silence of tragedy

the sound of pain beyond human comprehension

Stunned into silence a soundless

pause perhaps if we remain completely silent

maybe we won’t be noticed and it won’t be real.

Shrill sounds reveal that it is scarily real after all.

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse quadrille.

In 2005 I was in London with a group of school students when there was the second bombing, my students who were young and had never experienced anything like that before just wanted to get on their coach and go home immediately which just wasn’t possible, we left the following morning and the bus was eerily silent and remained so until we got beyond Birmingham. Silence is deafening in tragic circumstances. My heart and love to all to all who were touched by the Manchester bombing.

We cherish their footfalls

Geneology

we lived and died here

Names trickle by,

echoes of the past

Stories unfold

Startling revelations

In the stories we shared

Souls and mortal sins bared

We name our children in their honour

They will echo us forever

In their blood and bones.

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for Quadrille with d’Verse.

Quadrille

Still young inside my head.

I think despite the generation gap Ed Sheeran must have had a similar childhood to mine. Earlier in the year I did a cover lesson at a local High school where we needed to look at song lyrics for poetic form, I hurriedly asked a kindly looking lad what he thought would be appropriate for the class so I could quickly do a youtube search and get this lesson in the bag. He suggested Castle on the Hill. This week some kid in the playground whispered Grandma when I walked past…and I wondered who she was on about because even though I am 50 (I am still young in my head)… I am wiser…yes..but not old. So I have driven to work every day this week belting out Castle on the Hill with the window down. I defy you to call me Grandma. And then my smile becomes a grin…because I am home.

Remembering youth

Through your song my Summers’ surge

Dawn chorus wakens.

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for Haibun Monday at d’Verse.

d’verse

The picture is from about 1979- I played trombone in the local band and summer was always full of festivals, concerts and walking days.

A student’s lament

Third row back

never back chat

yet nobody knows my name.

I am the classroom ghost

Faceless to most

Silent learner lurking in the shadows.

Alison Jean Hankinson

I am putting this in for the open link night. I wrote this last week and yes it is/was inspired by my day-job…. Foe d’Verse open link

d’Verse

The inspiration actually came from a very lovely student who gave the description “lurking in the shadows” when asked what skulking meant. I sent a postcard home.

The clock never stops

Antique Clock

The clock never stops

tick tock tick tock

He thought it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things

It was only a moment of anger and uttered words of hurt

But now they would always be the last words he said.

Why hadn’t he blurted out he loved her instead.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

I wrote this a while back but I am using it for open link night at d’Verse as it has been a moment that continues to haunt me, the idea that we often don’t know what those last words will be or when the last moment will happen and that we have so little control over it all, the clock never stops…

I took the image from flickr Rachael Towne- Antique clock.

They sing for him.

It is the community singing that does it for my Dad every time,

Every rugby and football match those anthems for the common man.

They capture heart and soul, and bridge dreams and memories

And he sings with them, they become one voice,

one song, one breath-taking moment

of shared understanding and surrender,

of solidarity, stoicism and strength.

His heart was broken

In that shared moment he saw it and claimed it.

His grief, his passion, his anger, his will to live

all in the community singing.

They sing for him.

Alison Jean Hankinson

poetics d’Verse

This is for Poetics and the evening is being hosted by Paul Scribbles and the theme was community.

His heart was broken is a play on the words from The Proclaimers song Sunshine on Leith which is the anthem for Hibernian Football club. It has become one of my dad’s favourites even though he is a Turf Moor fan at heart.

Here is a link to a rendition of it:

Hibs 2016

Glasson Dock Revisited.

Glasson dock steeped in sunshine, the echo of the empty space that was the Babagee. Barges and boats and banter of family gatherings shimmers across the water beyond the broken hulls. The old stones of the lockgate still holds the memory of your footsteps.

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for the Quadrille with d’Verse hosted by Grace tonight, Still is the prompt and it is on there somewhere. The image is from Wikimedia and is of the derelict Babagee before it was demolished.

d’Verse quadrille

cafe_babagee2c_glasson_dock_-_geograph-org-uk_-_1188229

Fear receding….

The transition to seaside life has been a total joy. However dark and difficult the long days of winter were with their obstacles barriers and uncertainties and the fears that we would somehow fail. There was always a small smattering of hope that things would eventually work out for the better. We have been able to rekindle our love for our own culture and connections, track back through pathways and places that were already part of our story and re-establish the significance of our own place in this wonderful landscape.

The move in springtime to Heysham has been a wonderful and welcome move into what promises to be a pleasant phase of our lives. The sea and scenery are endless sources of peace, calm and serenity. The joy to be able to walk and witness this place in all its beauty and glory for just a small part of each day is genuine food for the soul. There is a song by Groove Armada it is such a seaside song, it talks of sand-dunes and salty air and it is just the sentiment of this place, a seaside town resting on its laurels and trying to reinvent itself as the coastal jewel in the crown resting at the foothills of the Lake District. Mountains on the horizon, resplendent in a salmon sunset, windmills stretching out to sea as far as the eye can see, ancient history carved into the headland and wilderness, wind and wavespray.

Mid tide Glasson Dock

In sprightly spring-time sunshine

Fear and dark thoughts ebb

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is my late offering for Haibun Monday and is about fear receding.

d”verse Haibun

oops just missed the link by 35 minutes…