Geraldine Green is a creative writing tutor, editor and poet, with three poetry collections (Indigo Dreams Publishing) and four chapbooks. Her work is widely anthologised in the UK and USA.
As well as readings, workshops and a residential at Brantwood, this autumn sees her reading at two festivals: Borderlines Festival in Carlisle and the Kendal Mountain Literature Festival. In 2011 she gained a PhD in Creative Writing from Lancaster University. Geraldine is writer-in-residence at the Quaker Tapestry Museum, Kendal. She was born, and still lives, in Cumbria with her husband Geoff and their Border collie, Roy.
She blogs at Salt Road
(after The Sleeping Lord, David Jones)
Strange, walking not on water
but on remains
and still the tree’s light comes through
old glass watering me under
and are the patterns on the glass
the branching architecture
mimicking of the forest
are the leaves
do wild birds sing
in these coloured images?
where I am
storm or stoneland
the light here is not sunlight
it comes in ripples of surprises
Now I think I could become
each one of my bones
hand crafted, sturdy
slant pieces of lead
the glass of me.
Even the dark misericord crumbles
petrified trees, gnarled by a myriad hands
callused wood holds their bones and boles
– roots are their palms
psalms sung here, centuries old
hold the music of stones.