DWW virtual workshop

Work in progress from DWW members to appear here soon



  1. Okay … here’s one to kick the thing off. Comments welcome please:

    Brief encounter on Stocking Lane

    No need for metaphor
    Just two deer, Sika,
    red-flanked, spikes
    adolescent white
    in the early morning
    of a Rathfarnham summer.

    One looks up as I walk
    clumsy and loud
    on the tarmac of a new road
    in a new estate.

    They’ve come too low
    from the pines of Montpelier
    or Cruagh, must have wanted
    a rest from cones and needles
    as they graze the smooth turf
    somebody bought in Homebase.

    I freeze; not quick enough.
    The breeze betrays
    and their heads are up.
    One moves closer,
    dainty steps of a Lippitzaner,
    verifies that I am
    the old species, predator,
    vaults the brickwork,
    dazzles an oncoming driver
    with his white rump.

    The other, unsure,
    morphs into the stone
    shape of a thousand
    garden centres.

    I pass, give grace,
    climb the hill at the pace
    of my heart-beat
    knowing that if I turn
    there will be
    an empty road,
    a new roundabout,
    a soil mound
    waiting to be seeded.

  2. This is smooth and eviocative, captures the moment and the mood well. I’m not sure of the opening line seems just a tad too self-conscious when you really want to go straight to the heart of the experience.

    The end is fitting and effective, I particularly like the additional meanings of give grace.

    All Best

  3. Okay…Here’s something I’ve been working on last week:

    ‘…the miracle of the image is a triumph of the imagination.’ (Ansel Adams)

    i. Motion arrested

    An image forms
    in his mind, visualised.

    Cold, clear grasses
    shiver above ground,

    the horizon flowers,
    a brittle-blue sea.

    Photons pour through the lens,
    agitate the halide crystals.

    ii. Commercial photography

    A flaccid, graven image.
    He positioned her between
    two metal light-box reflectors
    set at one-tenth second and
    synchronised with the flash.

    Brueghel used tempera on canvas
    in his Parable of the Blind,

    a blend of egg yolk
    and pigment, without
    the plastic capabilities of flash
    bulbs exploding, scattering
    little pieces of glass into white hair.

  4. Hi Peter

    I think both parts are lovely, precise pieces of writing … you make the link between the particular and the general very well, particularly in the second part where you link the photographer with Brueghel …. I’m wondering whether you need the word ‘visualised’ in the second line of the first part, having already said the image had formed .. also ‘flaccid’ bothers me in the second part … doesn’t seem apt for wht is being described.

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