Upload
hilda-sheehan
View
254
Download
0
Tags:
Embed Size (px)
DESCRIPTION
the Toothill Long Poem
Citation preview
1
THE WATCHERS
The Toothill Long Poem
Written by
The Toothillians: Megan and Tamsin of
Toothill Primary School, Kieran, Alisha,
Tyler, Jake, Luke, Annabel of Lydiard Park
Academy, Kiera and Morgan of Oliver
Tomkins Primary School, Ella, Emma, and
Alicia of Westlea Primary School
in collaboration with
the Toothill Lunch Club
and Hilda Sheehan
3
Acknowledgments
The Toothill Long Poem has been made possible by funding
from Toothill Big Local Steering Committee; support
from The Link Magazine and its publisher/editor Roger Ogle,
who first proposed a poem by children living in the
community; backed up from Swindon Artswords & Literature
Development; and advice and assistance from Matt
Holland and the Swindon Festival of Literature.
Thank you also to:
Toothill Primary School and Helen Huby for hosting the
workshops, Lower Shaw Farm for hosting our writing
day, Cristina Bennett of Lydiard Park Academy, Scott James
of Westlea Primary School, Julie Warburton of
Oliver Tomkins Primary School, members of the Toothill
Lunch Club, Michael Scott, Jason Byefield, Sean Wilson, and
Jackie Parry of the Toothill Big Local Committee, Jonathan
Mills, Toothill Community Centre, and David Hoare of
Toothill Church. Front cover image © Roger Ogle (The Link Magazine): The Watchers (Old View) sculpture
made in 1982 by Carleton Attwood
4
About the Toothill Long Poem by Hilda Sheehan
When I was asked to write a long poem with students for
Toothill, I saw this as an opportunity for young people to look
closely at their community and connect with the older people
who had lived in Toothill for many years. I wanted the project
to be more than a poem; an exciting process of discovery,
enthusiasm, and unearthing of story and history for Toothill,
by the young students who live there.
I can say, along with the students, that I love Toothill! I have
enjoyed all the people we have met, especially on the
wonderful afternoon when the students visited the Toothill
Lunch Club, all chatting easily together, enjoying each other’s
company. It has been an amazing experience. We have
discovered many points of interest in the village, The
Watchers sculpture being the focus and our title for the poem.
Also, Toothill Sunrise, the stained glass window in the
Community Centre, the myriad of pathways that lead to so
many wonderful spots and then, Toothill itself, a historic
lookout location and former farmland.
This poem expresses the vivid imaginations of the students,
who have chosen to be known as The Toothillians. They write
well, and should be proud of the lines in this poem. They are
deep thinkers, imaginative and proud of where they live.
'Dreams / Poems' is written on the front of Kiera's note book, a
good place to start, a good place to make poetry. We were
inspired, dreamlike, by the hedgerows, the wildlife and that
prime spot with a spectacular view that is Toothill. I’d like to
thank the kind people at the Toothill Lunch Club, for being so
5
welcoming and generous in sharing their stories. These stories
have added a unique magic that could only have been
experienced in Toothill, now retold within the 500 lines.
You can view the logbook and evaluation of this project on
our blog:
toothilllongpoem.blogspot.co.uk
A small version of The Watchers stands in the reception area of Toothill Primary School
6
Above, The Toothillions gather by The Watchers near Toothill Community Centre and
below, at Lower Shaw Farm ©Roger Ogle
7
THE WATCHERS
Sett the Bord, behold in a Toothill
Isaiah 21, Verse 5
i. The Lookout
A teenage hangout,
the mound, lookout,
mud hills, place to kick
a ball about
and shout!
when it’s dark
and the sky looks dead
the kids come out,
but I’m in bed.
I hear them, but
I don’t know
what they said,
or what they see.
This lookout sees:
Penhill, Link Centre
Ten Pin, De Vere
top of eco Toothill School
green and bright
with a Sedum roof
8
where bugs and bees
busy about as the children
busily work inside.
And this lookout hears:
the birds, children, bugs.
And this lookout feels
the scratch of tree bark,
the quiver of pathway,
flies on the neck
of night shine
on a dark sky like
you have never
seen before: a rainbow
of glowing
shimmering colours.
We are fantasy
fire glowing, stars bold
for the eternity of sleep.
They say there are ghosts,
headless and howling,
on this Indian mound
until morning and sunrise
when this lookout tastes
the walk of people
9
prowl of cats
the earth under us,
was crops, and cows,
the ones that worked
this land by hand,
before our houses came.
All under us
layered beneath
the pathways.
And when the sun comes up
time burns as you wait
for dreams to come true.
We hear whispers
from the voices
we can’t find,
those that dug the ground,
near this man- made mound:
Totien? Long Barrow? Fairy Toot?
What is that noise?
Whistles from the railway,
whistles from the railway:
the train that
whistled then,
whistles now…
And when the snow’s falling
It’s so exciting to watch,
the robins come out
looking for berries,
10
there’s footprints,
snow angels –
excitement filling the air.
What do you remember
from this mound?
I remember the distance.
Where does the distance
come from?
Deep amazement!
As the sun becomes itself
we turn to the mystery
of oranges,
pinks and purples,
birds nest high up
in a tree,
black cat
yellow eyes,
looks out
blackberries,
a garden fence
and a little red door.
Bare apple tree,
leaves withering
on a winter floor.
Toothill Farmhouse,
now used for scouts,
11
junior youth club
but I knew
who lived there
before they moved!
Lookout now
my tootere,
peep from our top
and tell us
how well
we can see you.
Natural or artificial
we are here on top
of this tuthill…
prepare the table!
watch in a watchtower!
ii. Mistaken Pathways
Under the concrete.
I am something
exciting:
Cow Leaze
The Folly
Home Close.
I was field names
and boundaries,
a home for cows,
12
under footsteps
to school, footsteps
to buses,
Link Centre,
the old railway track,
a Roman way - Asda!
Uphill and downhill,
I am green-fields
gone concrete.
I am the pathway
that meanders,
around the houses,
coming up for air
on Flint Hill,
from the very top
of Swindon,
the cycle route
around the houses
to places near and far –
Freshbrook,
over the bridge
to Westlea, to Shaw
and Lydiard Park
or Old Town via
the former railway line,
13
or Toothill park
with its football pitch
where epic games of football
happen
and children
play all day.
I see beyond the hedgerows,
beyond the tops of houses
with their rainbow doors.
Daffodils,
winter flowers,
life of sparrows.
I see crowds of people,
then such quiet
that runs all the way
down
to the bottom
of the empty street.
Hopping through the leaves
a tiny bird
wandered lonely,
a stray trolley parked
at the side of a road
chatted
to an empty bag of crisps,
a ginger cat wandered effortlessly
over a broken fence.
Spring leaves
14
and memories
the sunrise
is brought to life
mistaken pathway
of happy wanderers
leaving traces and trails
no-one knows
I am breathing
I never end
never stop taking you
here and there
I am the path –
roses and
wildflowers
bring me alive.
The moon comes out
lights the sky
with its friends the stars
and I am dark,
the way along
has disappeared
until morning;
the people here,
all following
the path that leads
to the beginning
of their own day.
15
iii. A Toot and a Whistle from us all
We remember
Spring is Sprung
in daffs
along the highway,
the railway
brought its clatter,
trains chattered
past,
fast!
Daffs along
the highway,
We’d come home
from the park
our eyes full
of Swindon!
That whistle
from the railway
whistles now…
Listen:
I remember
sledging
down Mud hill,
I shouted ‘ Joe!’
then crashed
into the fence.
16
listen:
I was in a concert
with another
Toot woman,
Sang the songs
of my wedding day…
now at 92, I feel 102!
The trails
of our lives before,
green fields and trees,
a view hidden
by silver birches.
trails of pinks and purples,
listen:
I made tea
for the men
in the builder’s hut
when our gardens
were fields
with no gate to shut.
They’d sneak
round the back
to my husband’s bar,
have a whiskey
and a laugh, men
that built this place.
17
If the windows
are open
you can hear
the dual carriageway
and the railway –
we don’t notice it anymore.
Listen:
to the Ice-Cream truck
down the road
I hear people
asking for loads
When he comes down everyday
He always likes to say,
‘I will always hang around
here in Toothill.’
Noise of the dual carriageway
in our beautiful
gardens.
We don’t notice it anymore.
From our gardens
we hear babies cry
and parents moan
all day, cars
driving round
on the road
18
with music
full blast!
Listen:
That time I took on
the biggest greaser
in town.
Up to no good
behind Sainsbury’s,
beating a young lad he was
so I bashed him
with my shopping bag –
You can’t just turn your back.
Listen:
these were
the good ole days.
‘Danny the Woodcutter’,
shouting,
“anything
need sharpening?”
And his wheel turning,
spinning around,
sparks flying.
He shouts,
“I can sharpen anything,
or cut your wood
on my angle grinder.”
19
Sparks flying
as it spins around -
good ole days.
Listen:
My wife and I happily
fell in love here:
I’ve one wife,
one car,
one house...
it's all I need.
Listen:
It’s easy said Iris,
on the wireless,
the buildings I see
from the top of Toothill
are the Link and its pipes
and Renault in yellow
which everyone likes.
The number 8 bus
gets us around
and we can walk to Asda!
Do you know Victoria Court?
Ah yes,
a well-known
street in Toothill,
a big horseshoe
20
shape crescent,
full of houses.
Do you know Salzgitter Court?
Yes, our twin town link,
our elder’s community.
Do you know
Idover, Belsay,
Beverley?
Toothill Church?
yes, the first structure,
started in a hut
There’s support
and friendship,
on a Christian path.
Then the Hut
was a shop
mid-winter
had a horrible
muddy floor
the ‘Taste of India.’
was a butchers.
‘RS Mc Coll’. ‘MV’,
‘One Stop’
are now a Tesco.
21
You can’t hardly see
Spring is Sprung
anymore.
iv. The Watchers
The Watchers sculpture
stands all alone,
man, woman, child, dog
made of stone.
Now the watchers lift
goes up
through time
sees pathways
which never end.
No one can see inside
the three figures
but they see out,
ask us if we are going up
to the top
of Toothill time
to mud hill
our Toothill today
on the top floor
Dog Sphinx protects
watchers, lookers
the future with a brave face.
22
Olive King typed letters
into shape,
our problems
and pains,
troubles with drains,
the potholes
and window frames –
things not quite right
on a typewriter
in the back of her car.
Out of Toothill Farm
came our homes,
the people
and ‘Toothill Link’:
Join in, if you want,
tell us your stories!
We’ll cut and paste
an A4 spread, with news…
first baby was born
in Markenfield
and ‘Toothill Link’
became ‘The Link’
between Freshbrook
Shaw, Westlea.
We asked, do we need cable?
23
a community school?
what will happen
to The Hut?
So here is a beautiful place,
good connections
we make,
with people from
the good ole days,
Toothill!
A world of imagination:
Toothill is cool
have fun in Toothill!
v.Toothill Sunrise
Stained glass story
going round in circles
a lead train track
hill out of clear blue
going round in circles
a home for me and you
a stained glass story.
And Toothill is cool
We love Toothill!
We’re only saying:
Toothill has values better
24
than you thought,
and it’s cooler
than you get taught.
Toothill! School full of kids.
Toothill! Some men in suits.
Toothill, pigeons and magpies
coo and caw.
You can come
and have lunch
or a drink in our pub
and do walk your dog
but please
pick up the pooh!
Toothill has a name
tooting for time
Toot Toot
goes the train
as it drives
down the track.
We’re all part
of Toothill’s history,
now on display
for all to see.
Family, friends,
young and old,
a story of Toothill
has been told.
28
The Toothill Sunrise inside Toothill Community Centre
made by Keith Gale in 1984
A lead train track, going round in circles
37
Postcards from Toothill competition winning poem
By Kiera Grisley
of Oliver Tomkins Primary School
The derelict farmhouse in Toothill,
boarded up but standing still.
The fire tore through the house with rage,
the cottage had lived to fine old age.
A train passes by on its route
the name comes from the train's TOOT TOOT!
The Watchers sculpture stands all alone,
man, woman, child, dog made of stone.
It's part of Toothill's history
It's on display for all to see.
Family, friends, young and old,
the story of Toothill has been told.