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About Mungrisdale Writers The Mungrisdale Writers are a group of creative writers who meet fortnightly at the Village Hall and Recreation Rooms, Mungrisdale. Our members come from a variety of backgrounds and as a group we are interested in a broad range of topics. Some of us have written for publication but others are novices. We find the group both stimulating and entertaining and the Village Hall a wonderful place to work. Our writing is inspired by the ever changing seasons, the beauty of nature in our Cumbrian setting and the life and people around us. Angela Locke, our tutor, guides us on our creative and meditative journeys. Her encouragement helps us develop confidence to move forwards with our work.

(If you interested in developing your own creativity then come and join us. All that is needed is a pen and paper and a desire through sharing and friendship to become involved in a journey of self discovery.)


The summit of High Pike, photographed by Ronnie Auld
*****

Just reprinted due to popular demand!

dating@60 and other tribulations

ISBN No 978-0-9550249-5-5  

Get your copies for Christmas now via our Amazon Bookstore, click here and follow the links.   Don't be put off by the statement that they are out of stock - you will get your book pretty quickly, they just don't keep stock of everything.   You can also get it at Waterstones, Bookends in Keswick or Carlisle and The Bluebell Bookshop in Penrith

If days were years
John Fryer

 

I was born 24,512 days ago today

 

If days had been years instead

I would have arrived in the ice age

Preceding history?

Well no, but ahead of man.

If days had been weeks instead

I would have arrived much later still

Three thousand five hundred years ago

The year chocolate was born to drink.

Perhaps the Druids drank it

Since they built Stonehenge that year

If days had been months instead

I would have been born even later still

Eight hundred and seventeen years ago

As Richard the Lion heart set off boldly

On his third Crusade

If we could choose our time instead

We would know the cosmic ways.

Would we feel the cold of the ice age?

Down that first chocolate shake

Assist the Druids intentions

Live through a battle on the third crusade

What a prospect

What a thought

 

2008

Robbie
Jill Faux

It is in the stillness of the night

That I remember you

It is when the oyster catcher cries

That your face comes to mind

And I see you as a child

 

It is in the keening of the wind

That I hear you laugh

It is when the sun rises in the east

And lights up your empty bed

That tears prick my eyes

 

These quiet times are the worst

Noise was your last memory

Mad, frenetic, noise; and now

The pipers bring you home

To the quiet of the Western Isles

 

So far from that hell for men

Called Hellmand

You can rest here Robbie

Each night at the going down of the sun

Neither we nor Kintra will forget

 

September 2009

 

 
Group Publications
     

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