Only loving those that love her ...

She is too loyal to be a simple soul ... 

too loving to be nothing but a meaningless comfort

I wished once that I could only know love and kindness like her. Only loving those that love her ...

She has never been heartless enough to believe words over deeds. 

Hi everyone, those who follow me on Twitter will know why it has been two weeks since my last blog post. Sadly last Monday our cat Fluff had to be put to sleep. It was so fast, one minute she was fine the next she had a bad fit and the vets said her kidneys were damaged (she was an old cat so this wasn't really a surprise) and there was not much more they could do for her. I know those of you who are animal lovers will know how much this hurts, I have passed the stage of shock and floods of tears and now I just have a heavy depressed heart. We are all grieving especially Carl who was there when she was born.

Anyway this writing is my little tribute to her. It is part of some automatic writing I did months ago and I remember I wrote this while fussing Fluff - she always was my little writing companion. I don't think writing will sound the same again without her wheezy snoring lol, I have noticed that a lot of writers have a feline companion ... the writer's muse maybe? :)

She really was the most beloved cat whose idea of heaven was cuddles and treats and she will be greatly missed.

Prose Pieces ~ Deep Sleep and Origami

'Sleep is like a breeze that comes in the front door and leaves through my bedroom window, taking the paper birds I made with it. 

Illusive, sleep is impossible to grasp and hold, it visits and leaves when it wishes. I tried once to trap sleep in a paper lantern, lit with a tea-light so it would not be afraid of the dark. It circled my white lantern, blew out the flame and flew away laughing at my childish musings. 

Next time I will try a rice paper lantern in light blue. I will trick sleep into believing it has been encased in sky and I will take it to the circus, dance in a dark velvet tent pin pricked with silver stars and sleep will follow me, run through my hoops, revel in the applause and bow low to humanity.'

This is an automatic writing piece that turned into a prose piece. It's a great fantastical bit of writing isn't it, I don't know where these ideas comes from sometimes - I guess I like to play with reality! :)

I thought I would like to do a bit of promoting of others poets/poems that I have discovered and loved. I found Rowyda Amin through Twitter, had a nosy around her website and had a read of her poems and just absolutely loved them! 

I especially loved her poem 'Sanatorium' - a dark but soft and comforting poem and 'Insect Studies' is a vivid, imaginative, colourful poem that stuck in my mind for a long time. I think she is a greatly talented writer and I love the way she makes her poems feel familiar, sometimes nostalgic with a hint of other-worldly magic. Plus she is a fellow 'Poet and Blogger' as she says on Twitter, so you couldn't get much better. 

Happy Tuesday 

New Poem of the Month for May ~ Dreaming of Spring

The greenman by Cyril Barreaux

He sleeps and dreams

like a forest fey in a oil painting,

                                                 perfectly,

with an honest, open face,

turned towards the moon and stars,

to accept the forewarned dreams

with nothing …

                           nothing to hide

Hi everyone, this month it's all back to normal after the poetry series for National Poetry Month. So May is here and it's a lovely day here in Yorkshire, the sun is out and Spring is finally here after what felt like an extended bitter winter that didn't want to loosen its grip!

Another new month and another new poem. I chose this poem before I realised how apt for today it is, since today is Beltane or Mayday, the day the greenman is celebrated throughout Europe as the bringer of spring. 

I'll keep this post short since last month my posts were really long and detailed and I wittered on just a bit! lol Nothing much is happening but I am working on a big writing project with my Mum - I'll keep the details to myself for now :)

Also as with all writers/artists/creative people in general, I'm always waiting for someone to 'find me' and for that big break lol ... We shall see 



Have a wonderful Wednesday 

NPM #6 ~ In their soft footprints ... Leah

Leah

She sat in one of the thickest branches 
and called to me in a voice like spun sugar
able to calm a frost edged nightmare 
or smooth away a fearful cry

She knew the soil,
as it fell in between her fingers 
as if it told her the secrets of what it once grew
She sat with me 
and we looked down 
this green and aged tree

An artist with his sweet watercolours  
a politician that stood for the workers
a family far from home toiling in the fields
working till the sun skipped behind the horizon
to make this land their home

There were children crying,
playing, laughing and singing heartfelt songs
down every branch, 
with mothers beside them strong in heart and soul
She gave me a wicked smile,
her skirts snapping like flags in a breeze
and jumped feet first,
beckoning me to follow



This is the very last poem for National Poetry Month! *sad face* I have really enjoyed this, it has been so much fun and a really creative little project. This very last poem is about my 6 x great Grandmother Leah Lawton.

Leah Lawton was born 8th July 1771 in High Hoyland, Yorkshire - This is the furthest back we (My Mum and me) have gotten that has this much information, we have gotten back further in date but beyond this point it is just names, births, marriages and deaths. I also wanted to save Leah for the last post as we have traced her family line a lot and have even come down to living descendants of hers. I love the fact that she was born before such events like the American War of Independence or the French Revolution!

Cadney Church

She married William Kinsley on 11th of April 1790 in Emley, Yorkshire and went on to have 10 children, nine boys and just one girl, all born and christened in Cadney, Lincolnshire. I am descended through her 3rd son Anthony.

I wanted to get across in the poem that she was a matriarch of a huge family because she really was the great mother of the Kinsleys of Cadney! From her 10 children she had 43 grandchildren! She had even more great grandchildren, she had 84 and I don't think they have all been found and named yet! The number could be even higher. Two of her sons Henry and John and their families emigrated to Orangeville, Ontario, Canada to work as farmers (I've seen around Orangeville on Google Maps and it is just in the middle of nowhere!) At least 21 of Leah's great grandchildren where born in Ontario. My Mum has even been in touch with a Canadian cousin of ours :)

Other descendants of Leah Lawton include the artist Albert Kinsley (hence the watercolour artist mentioned in the poem) and Baron Quibell - who was a Labour Party politician and later an MP for Brigg in Lincolnshire.

I thought it would be good to end the series with the great matriarch Leah Lawton and her vast family tree. I would also like to thank the members of the ancestry.co.uk Facebook page who have loved this series and have been really encouraging. 

Today also marks by blog-anniversary! A whole year I have been wittering on about poetry and stuff - thank you all for your patience lol 

Happy Tuesday 

NPM#5 ~ In their soft footprints ... John

John

There also sat a man
with a merry tune on his lips,
singing in his soft, musical accent
His hair was as black as a raven's heart,
confident in its natural curl

He spoke to me of being far
from the house of his birth
of his deep love, his young grief
of his children, 
some by his side and others in heaven
His ancestral need to be by the sea
that life is to be lived
with the smells of sea salt and deep currents
and every time he clapped his hands
to a beat only he could hear, he left a dusting of flour.




This is about my great, great, great grandfather John Thomas. 

I chose John Thomas because he is the great mystery of the family tree, I'm sure every family researcher has one - the one you just can't seem to pin down but the facts we do know make him a very interesting character. His life starts out very hard and ends in a Victorian love story!

(We think) John Thomas was born on 14th March 1851 in Liverpool, he was christened age 6 on 16th August 1857 in St Peter's Church, Liverpool. He was the son of the baker Robert Thomas (hence flour in the poem) The next part of his life is where he becomes a man of mystery! The very common name of John Thomas does not help! lol 

On the 2nd of January 1872 he is in Hull, East Yorkshire getting married to Virginia Selina Allan, on the marriage certificate it states that is father is deceased and there is a mix up with his age saying he is a year younger then he really is! - We have wondered if he just didn't know how old he was since we think he was orphaned at just 11. So in 1872 he is on the other side of the country and there is a family rumour that someone was part of a travelling fair!? - It could well have been him. There has been a huge Fair in Hull every October since the 18th century.

There is also a rumour that John and Virginia married for love and she was 'thrown out' of her family for marring beneath her - Virginia was the daughter of a professor of music, and you could imagine their attitude when she said, at just 19, that she was going to marry an orphan from the travelling fair! (if this is all true) 

Winifred Thomas in the 1920's

Virginia and John had 13 children! Only 6 of these survived though and I am descended through their daughter Ethel. Ethel was a bit of a wild child and in 1904 had my great grandmother Winifred, we never found out who my great grandmother's father was as Ethel took the secret to her grave. Sadly Ethel didn't want to keep Winifred, married a German man and went to live in Dresden (another interesting story!). For Winifred, it was her grandparents John and Virginia that stepped in and took her on as their own. My great grandmother used to say that John was lovely man with thick dark curly hair and she loved him dearly - I have really curly hair (it's not black though) and I like to believe I have inherited this from him, I sometimes joke that when my hair has just dried it look like a caviler's wig! lol

Happy Wednesday :)

NPM #4 ~ In their soft footprints ... Mary

Mary 

There sat a woman

holding a small baby to her heart

softly singing lullabies,

giving him all her love,

She told me of his birth,

his lips had turned blue

A frightening pain, the metallic sting of blood

still under her fingernails

Her other children gathered around her

knowing he was the last,

Somehow knowing

this image

was fading, drifting apart

Far from all these voices,

streets, smoke and hardship

she felt very alone

This is about my great great great grandmother Mary Ellerington (from the opposite side of the tree to Phoebe in NPM #3). Their children Lydia Eley and George Bacon married in 1907.

Mary Ellerington's life story has always struck me as a very sad one. I don't know if I am alone in feeling this but sometimes when researching your family tree you get feelings about certain names, you sympathise with some or some you just dislike for no reason other then an inkling! lol I would love to know if any other family tree researchers have felt this? 

Mary Ellerington was married to George Eley on 16th of April 1870, St Paul's Church, Hull, East Yorkshire (143 years ago tomorrow!) - She was just 15, a couple of months off 16. She had 8 children (5 daughters and 3 sons) and I am related through her 4th daughter Lydia. The reason I have included a child in the poem is because of the sad facts we found out about her last child Arthur Eley. He was born in 1890 and it was written down on the 1911 census that he was 'feeble minded since birth' - I have no idea what this means by today's terms, maybe Down's Syndrome or some sort of learning difficulty, I just don't know but the word 'feeble minded' is very harsh and I know the Victorians used this as a by-word for a lot of different illnesses. If anyone can clear this up for me that would be great :)

Mary Ellerington died in 1898 at 44 years old, just 8 years after Arthur's birth, I think maybe his birth was hard on her too, but I like to think that she treasured him. It's strange though that stories about Arthur have never been passed down through the family. I wonder sometimes if there was some shame there and a need to cover it all up. 

George Eley married again just a year after Mary's death to Emily Broadbent,  a widow with 3 children of her own - she was 15 years younger. They had 4 daughters together. Arthur lived with his father and step-mother until his death at just 22 years old in 1913.

On a happier note,  I have to mention (and which is un-related to my family history) that 'Silver Threads' has received another great review by the lovely Darlene on her book blog Peeking between the pages. She asked to review 'Silver Threads' before all the mess that happened with my publisher. She has saved her review as part of a National Poetry Month book blog tour and I am very honored to be a part of it. 

Hope you all have a lovely week :)

NPM #3 ~ In their soft footprints ... Phoebe

http://www.pixedelic.com/

Phoebe 

On the other side 

was a branch

That swayed with pale gold wheat

with an aura of an August day

A woman came walking through

these hazy royal fields

and showed me the landscape she once called home

Vast bronze and deep green planes,

unbroken horizons and a simple church

its stones warmed by the blush of heat

She spoke to me of travel, a deep yearning

to walk and move to where the money flowed

She was without fear

as she journeyed with others,

her hands falling on the bowed heads of the crops

towards the north. 



This is about my great, great Grandmother Phoebe Brett who was born 5th November 1847 in Swaffham, Norfolk. Phoebe Brett and her husband Richard Bacon are very special to me since they were the first names I found on my journey into genealogy. They were both part of the great movement to look for work at the time and came to Hull, East Yorkshire - Hull was then an expanding port and had lots of job opportunities, they came here with other members of their family and made this their new home. 

Phoebe and Richard had six children (all in Hull) and I am descended from their fifth child; George Cain Bacon. Phoebe, and all her 10 brothers and sisters were christened at St Peter and St Paul church in Swaffham (the picture on the left), she was christened 12th December 1847. The town of Swaffham and the church of St Peter and St Paul in particular have a lovely myth connected to them of the Pedlar of Swaffham - a man in the 1600's who had a dream that brought him to London, it really is a great story.







Also a fascinating fact about the Brett family is about Phoebe's uncle, Thomas Brett, who left England for America with all his family in June 1854 - They ended up in Illinois. Just over 10 years later Thomas's son, James Brett (Phoebe's cousin) was dead, after fighting in the American Civil War in company K88 he was taken to the infamous Andersonville Prison in Georgia where he died on 25th July 1864 of scurvy, he is buried in The National Cemetery. 

I hope you are all enjoying reading this as much as I love writing it :)