Eclipse for Scibblers

Scribblers

Sunday October 8^th from 2-4pm

For anybody who is afflicted with the need to scribble

come and read what you have written

other poets and authors would love to listen

let us gather together in friendship

At the ‘Look and Sea’ Visitor Centre

above the Harbour Lights Café

overlooking the River Arun

in Littlehampton

Email me with your questions or to say

that you cannot wait to meet us: dafbelt@outlook.com

Eclipse

Even though I would have loved to travel

to America to watch with child and adult,

when the greatest eclipse in memory occurs

as the moon passes the sun, to fully occult.

Folk took holidays abroad to wait in awe,

wonder, close to fear and strange emotion.

Stargazers all, some for just that day

all don weird spectacles in their devotion.

Who asks how terrifying this was, way back

when phenomena like this were not predicted?

On an ordinary day, day became night,

was this to them, end of the world depicted?

As a marvellous passing darkens the sun, 

what a gift to see these celestial bodies.

In previous centuries utter horror begun,

this happening shared now is anybody’s.

For sure there’ll be stories sworn for be true

inexplicable, stranger than fiction tales.

A huge clock stopped, a healthy man died

silence of birds, sad cry’s of the whales.

It is possible that anybody reading this might think that I am totally mad, completely out of my tree and off my trolley. If that is indeed the case it is because I have a very full life. I have a very full head too and this is entirely my own fault if keeping fit and healthy to the degree that I do is anything to go by. You would think that I do enough physical exercise without taxing my poor soggy brain a well. The thing is, that sad little woman I may be, but I have so many interests and find it hard to put one aside to allow any of the others a chance of fulfilment.

This weeks fabulous eclipse do keep me enthralled for a while but sadly I was only able to watch it on TV and not join a Facebook friend I have in Kansas City watching the heavens for real.

Tonight my best friends which includes my husband Steve, are going to the Collector Earls Garden in the grounds of Arundel Castle where we will chatter and munch our way through a picnic, washed down with a glass of something bubbly (In the case of my man and our friend Anthony that will be mineral water), Michelle and I will have the bubbles to ourselves but since there is a two hour allocation for picnicking and then a full performance of A Midsummer Nights Dream, that won’t be hard. There is a focal point in the gardens called Oberon’s Palace made from local wood so there could not be a more perfect setting.

     Oberon's Palce inside The Collector Earls Garden, stands in front of the Cathedral 

We will all take along something warm for an extra layer in the second half when it can get chilly even in summer. This is England after all.

Swim Training this morning for me was:

400

50

50 Rolling the set four times

Total 2000 mtrs

The guys ploughed through a much longer set and still came out smiling.

Great massage yesterday Vicky Vickery, thanks pet.

Bless me, Bless Me, Bless me.

On Friday, after the 6.30 am swim session, I sneezed all the live long day. I suffer from what I call chlorine poisoning now and again. During most of the year it usually occurs on a Monday, so it was surprising to get an attack at the end of the week. Having made inquiries, I found out that the chemicals, what ever they are, it may not actually be chlorine, I don’t know that for sure, but they are added to the pool water automatically these days.

Maybe I am mistaken but I find that the sneezing fits are worse during the school holidays.

Don’t get me wrong now; I am only too happy for children to learn to swim. It would be negligent for families living in a seaside town not to send their kids for lessons before they let them play on the beach. 

However, parents need to teach the children how to behave and one little rule I was taught as a child was that you must pay a visit to the toilet before you go into the pool to swim and play. Only yesterday I did heard a child tell his parents that he ‘went in the pool’.

I struggle to keep a nose clip on but if you suffer from the chemicals then it is the only option. Stick with it and try to get used to wearing the wretched nose clip at least when the most children are visiting the pool during the school holidays.

It took me most of the day to calm my poor sinuses down and that was a bit of a worry since I knew that I had an interview via Skype with a fitness guru pod-caster from Los Angeles, Robin Legat, who wanted to talk about my experiences starting and pursuing a new sport after passing the age of forty, which in my case came after reaching fifty. We had great fun chatting about my travels and races, both good times and bad.  The talk will be recorded and Robin will let know when it will be available to hear on the internet. The programme is called ‘The Seasoned Athlete’, and that is one thing I most definitely am… Well Seasoned.

Little Chief Yellow Cloud

Holiday makers visiting for a day on the coast,

Windy on the beach but a pool too, we boast

Happily swimming making dad so proud

A little girl and boy in a toweling shroud.

The parental teaching only goes so far

‘Stay at the shallow end, don’t go out too far,

stay where your feet can touch the ground’

The girl did handstands her mummy had found.

Gradually kiddies start to get boulder

Boy and girl both jump from his shoulder

Laughter and giggles, they play for so long

Splashing and squealing and singing a song.

‘Both go with mum’, dad said ‘Down that way’

‘Go to the toilet now and do as I say’

‘No need’ said the boy, ‘I went in the pool’

Did somebody missed out that golden rule?

‘You shouldn’t do that where others can see

Go into the toilet when you need to wee’.

‘Why not’ laughed to boy ever so loud,

;’Cos they will call you Chief Yellow Cloud’!

The Worst That Could Happen

Scribblers News

I am going to call the piece I have posted here today, contemporary poetry or if you don't think it is that, (I am quite new to this modern stuff) then let us say that it is just a piece of Flash Fiction, because it is in fact exactly 500 words long and that is very often what is required in that field.

What it also is, in truth, is a race report from last Saturday, so if you don't reckon it as poetry and you don't like short stories then it is just a diary entry again.  

The Worst That Could Happen

Well, we do hear about the horrible things

that people do to other people.

The papers are full of dreadful stories

and so I understand why

my friends and family

worry about me now;

now that I am so old.

Here I am still doing things

that some people,

some a lot younger than me,

gave up attempting years ago.

You must be more careful.

That is the most common thing I hear.

Remember you are not twenty one any more

The thing is,

I like what I do

And while I can

I will go on doing it.

Last Saturday I had great fun with my friends.

We took a train to the Isle of Wight

Lots of people do that right?

Admittedly, most of them do not

bung their clothes in a bag,

stick it on the back of a van

to be transported

to the place where they will

finally arrive; after they

have swum across the bay

from Sandown Pier to where Shanklin Pier

used to be before the Great Storm destroyed it!

It was a 1.8 mile swim

without the buoyancy of a wetsuit,

they are clearly frowned upon

by the organisers of the event.

Don’t be so daft one person said to me.

Daft is it? It is not the first visit.

My friends and I look upon this

as a fun day out together,

a club outing.

We have done it for years.

Mind you, there was a moment

when I couldn’t see any other swimmers

anywhere near me, or safety canoes,

or the lifeboat for that matter.

What’s the worst that could happen?

I asked myself.

Well, I am 78 years old.

What if I got terrible cramp?

What if a got Hypothermia?

What if I had a stroke?

What if…….

A Great White Shark ate me?

There had been a sighting

off Hayling Island

five miles away

mentioned on the BBC South today news.

I had taken that with a pinch of salt,

probably just Basking Sharks;

they only eat plankton.

How do they know,

that I am not plankton.

Must be the smell I suppose.

If I were to be totally honest

I did feel better toward the end of the swim

When I saw a safety canoe close by me.

He pointed the right route out with his oar,

telling me that I was a little off course.

In actual fact, three much younger,

Muuuuuch faster swimmers than me

Did get very cold.

Uncontrollably shiveringly cold.

Even though they were in the water

a lot less time than me.

There was soup and bread at the finish.

No showers available

No changing rooms.

It was sort of communal changing

in the boat house,

each facing the walls

and not looking at each other bits.

The best part

for us lot from Littlehampton,

was that we were presented with

some pretty smart but old silverware.

We did really clean up,

with four trophy’s between us.

Nice. Good work.

Scribblers news

Scribblers

Sunday October 8^th from 2-4pm

For anybody who is afflicted with the need to scribble

come and read what you have written

other poets and authors would love to listen

let us gather together in friendship

At the ‘Look and Sea’ Visitor Centre

above the Harbour Lights Café

overlooking the River Arun

in Littlehampton

Email me with your questions or to say

that you cannot wait to meet us: dafbelt@outlook.com

This meeting is for anybody who has written a verse at all, ever and it is not aimed only at eggheads. You do not need to have taken any qualifications to come to the meeting. What I hope will happen, is that a few secret poets will come along and take a turn at reading their work.  It doesn’t matter how long you have been writing or if you have only written one thing, or if you have a little drawer full of poems or stories.

It matters not a jot if you have a perfect grasp of grammar or if you have never used a comma in your life. Much of my first months writing, in my drive to write a poem a day was dot and dash free. My reasoning being that I was the only one who would see it and my husband the only one who would hear it. However, should Carol Ann Duffy bowl along on October 8^th she can jump the queue.

My greatest downfall is that every now and again I set myself some complicated verse pattern like this one below today. Mostly, once I have something that I want to say in verse, I can get it done in one hit but this one had me working at it off and on every day this week. You may read it a think I shouldn’t have bothered, but it is such a subject that I wanted to be special and actually I have said what I wanted to say, and (here we go again) if it is your own poem, you can only do it in a way that you feel it needs to be written.

                                               C.R. with her Uncle Ben

Catie-Ross

Life is not always easy for new born babies,

her first year on earth, Catie-Ross showed this.

Some people thought she would never survive

as intensive care tubes invade this little miss.

Rarely possible to feel her mother’s lips kiss

as doctors and nurses fought to keep her alive.

Anxiety as treatment sometimes seems way amiss.

All ifs’ and buts’ and too many maybes.

Waiting was tough and hope dreadfully slight,  

the one permanent for the family was hope,

as push came to shove, they silently prayed.

Rarely a break from needles and stethoscope.

Operations stretched chance like a tightrope.

Parents and baby bonded through their crusade,

how can something so tiny possibly cope? 

Born with the spirit to fight her own fight.

She smiles and chuckles through every pain,

too often touch comes from a latex glove,

so unfair when desperately needing a cuddle,

private promises offered to heaven above.

Picture of innocence is this sweet baby dove

Doctors’ solemnly stand in a robed huddle.

This child survived on one thing, and that’s love

A family’s pilgrimage was not held in vain.

And here with Uncle Ross. Below is the most recent photo I have of her playing in the summer sunshine on the beach just like other children just past her first birthday.

Scribblers
October 8th. Don't forget to put the date in your diary.
2-4pm at the 'Look and Sea Visitor Centre in Littlehampton down by the river side.
Hope you see lots of new faces bearing sheets of scribbled poetry lines to read to us.
Email me, Daphne Belt, for find out more. 
dafbelt@outlook.com and to send me your poems to post on this blog if you fancy doing so.

Thanks Will

If only he were still here and alive

And had the centuries survived,

I’d like to give the man a hug

See him give his beard a gentle tug.

I’d like shake the great man’s hand

For plays seen on evenings planned,

Tell the bard I’m filled with pleasure

Burned in my soul to forever treasure.

Thank you Will, your plays were great

Hook line and sinker, you sealed my fate,

From childhood I have been your fan

Did your mind make me what I am?

My husband and I attended a funeral service in Shoreham followed by a short drive to the cemetery for the burial both of which were very moving due to what was a sudden death of a friends and work associate.

Poems pop into our heads for all sorts of reasons and this short one below was the child of that funeral yesterday. They are an excellent way of dealing with our emotions and I find that they work well as a kind of therapy.

Lengthening Shadows

Too late to gather rosebuds now

Missed opportunities regretted

Forgotten those to whom indebted

Selfishly ever onward plough

Passing those with whom you once duetted

Too late as shadows stretch out longer

When unsung comes the last sunset

Inevitably seen the life long threat

The current pulling all the stronger

Trickling down your neck a drop of sweat.

The old man in the sea is not Neptune rising from the water, it is just my husband Steve

at a charity swim last week in Littlehampton to raise money for operations for children born with a cleft palate, living in countries where the operation is not performed as a matter of course. Freestyle 4 smile is the charity.

Invitation to Scribblers poetry group

Scribblers

Sunday October 8^th & November 12^th at 2-4pm

For anybody who is afflicted with the need to scribble. Come and read what you have written to other poets and authors who would love to listen to you.

 Let us gather together in friendship at the ‘Look and Sea’ Visitor Centre

 in Littlehampton, above the Harbour Lights Café, overlooking the River Arun.

There is a pay and display car park nearby. Email me with your questions or to say that you cannot wait to meet us and read your poems, flash fiction, scribblings etc.

contact: dafbelt@outlook.com  More info on www.dafbelt.blogspot.co.uk

Welcome to my blog. It was formerly my sports diary and I have not posted during the summer months whilst I was busy training and competing in triathlon events. Since I don’t have any races for the next 6-7 weeks I thought it might be useful to use it to give out any more information and answers to questions that people might have about the new writing group Scribblers.

I live in Littlehampton and previously went, when I could to the Worthing WOW Write Nights when they were in Frasers Bay at the Connaught Theatre and then last year at St Pauls, just over the road from there. I thought St Pauls was a big improvement on Frasers, I personally did not like it much since the actual bar remained open and there were coming and goings while readings were in progress. I really missed those meetings and so thought I would start another closer to my home.

This blog was at first used for my own poetry but drifted into being more of a diary  as I said. If anybody has a poem they would like me to post here please sent it to me in an email and I will happily put it up. Meanwhile I will post one of mine every now and again until we get going. Email: dafbelt@outlook.com

Just to fill the space I have added a couple of photos that show evidence that about three years ago I had an accident when I was out run training and broke three bones. I was so angry with myself and had no idea how a prize fidget like me was going to cope with being out of action for a while. It was pretty soon after that I realise I must impose some sort of discipline on my self to save myself from being permanently grumpy. The idea that came up to keep me from sulking was that I must write a poem a day until my fitness was restored. I have always loved poetry even as a child but writing was new although I was always big into letter writing and had a number of pen pals as a teenager.  

I did do a full year of one a day poems but then settled down to a couple a week and have not stopped. So much about me. Let’s hear about you.

                                              Mrs Grumpy at Worthing Hospital in 2013