Rising Renga

These were verses written by Fiona and me at the Renga Rising workshop at Horbury on Sunday, October 1st as part of Wakefield Literary Festival. Thanks to Dave Alton for organizing.

A renga  is a form of collaberative poetry from Japan - in our case we also structured it using pairs of verses in the form

5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables
7 syllables,7 syllables
5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables
7 syllables,7 syllables
....

There was a theme for each section, in groups starting with a season.

SUMMER
DAYS OUT
THINGS LEFT
RIPENING

AUTUMN
CLOCKS
DRIFT
HERITAGE

WINTER
TEXTILE
LAMP
PINE

SPRING
PASSION
BLOSSOM
FUTURE

Fiona's Renga

A bright summer's day
Hover flies over water
Nothing much happens

Canal boats glide past quickly
Children run and jump and play

Troubles left at home
At home but not forgotten
Waiting to return

Flowers bursting with colour
Berries swelling with fresh juice

Berries on the trees
Waiting to ripen and fall
Food for the winter

Time passes so quickly now
Racing onward towards death

Where does it all go
Health, hope, happiness, future
All merge into one

What has passed still has meaning

To make our future better

The sun is setting
Nights are long and days are short
Waiting for the dawn

Warm covers to keep me snug
Soft on my skin and cosy

The light is so dim
I light another candle
It gives light and heat

The pine stands in the corner

Decorated with panache

Days lengthen slowly
new life appears all around
lambs gambol with joy

New life, new hopes, new future!
Will tomorrow bring more joy?

The blossom appears
Growing daily on the boughs
Promises to come

What will happen tomorrow?
Who can tell? I wait in hope.

Fiona also wrote an accidental haiku for "Pine"

The tree smells divine
The heat from the small candles
Enhance its presence

Tim's Renga

On the sandy beach
Windy, cold, cheerless skies
Wish we were in Spain

Stately homes, gardens so trim
Moors, beaches, our National Trust

Brollies, sticks, hats and
teeth, even false legs are left
on the Underground

Banana, what is your choice?
Green, yellow or spotted brown?

Leaves, golden soft browns
Blown like the sad, lost spirits
of fallen soldiers

Time, ticking like an endless
sad cricket, above the fire;

They blocked it up, in
nineteen eighty five - our escape;
the long shallow drift.

Engine house at Pleasley Pit
Glassy walls of Hardwick Hall

Morning frost, scraping
Icy winds blown from the North
Where's the sun hiding?

From the backs of laden sheep
to our warm winter jumpers

Carol singers carry
festive illuminations
hanging from a stick

Lonely, the winter tree can
never shed its bitter spikes

New, fresh, bursting life
Hope, unchallenged in our heart
Youth will have its day

Running headlong with no fear
Love or hate, all consuming

Drooping from the branch
Its colour indescribable
It steals my vision

I am unknown, I am feared
I am inevitable.