Harbour Lights Poets

 Harbour Lights Cafe right in the centre under the Look and Sea tower

 The next meet of Littlehampton’s newest poetry group is just two weeks away on Sunday November 12^th at 2pm until 4pm. That is Remembrance Sunday. I hope that there are a whole passle of poets chomping at the bit to join us and read their latest work. Next dates after that: Dec. 10th / Jan.21st / Feb. 25th all 2-4pm

When we set about starting the group up, it was obvious that a name was needed and since I very often call myself the Phantom Scribbler, we did not stretch ourselves to think of anything else when it came to spreading the word and booking a venue.

There has already been a suggestion for a new and much more suitable name put forward by the very first poet who came to join us and did read several of her poems at the first meeting.

When I told my daughter that a new name had been suggested she came quickly back to me saying that she thought it was my group. Well I don’t think ownership comes into poetry because in our very essence we are free spirits, free thinkers are we not. Besides which, it was only the idea of starting a local group that was mine alone. Steve suggested the venue and we rolled on from there.

So just after Susan Wade emailed me and gently gave her idea of a more suitable name, I can only admit in honesty that my first reaction was to think, Ooooh! That’s a bit more romantic than Scribblers and most suitable. We meet at the Look and Sea Visitor Centre, in the meeting room that sits cosily right above the Harbour Lights Café and through which one must pass to get to the stairs. I can only kick myself for not being the one to see the obvious.

Soon after that I went out for a bike ride with my husband and told him that Susie had suggested that we should be called the Harbour Lights Poets. He turned to look at me almost falling off his bike with surprise and said “You have to say it sounds perfect, doesn’t it”. The next morning queuing outside the reception desk at the swimming pool I mentioned it to our friend Anthony who was also part of the first gathering. He turned and said “That certainly trips off the tongue doesn’t it”. Then it was tested it again on two more friends they looked at each other and said “We are liking that, very much indeed”.

So if there are no objections anywhere, I think we may well become the Harbour Lights Poets. Since there are others interested in joining us, all that is left to say is that you can send me anything you would like to share on this page and I would be happy to post it for you. We look forward to meeting everybody who has contacted us about the group. Until then, more of my scribbling below.

 Littlehampton Bonfire Saturday 28th Ocober a week before the famous Lewes affair.

Guy Fawkes Night Nov. 5^th

Littlehampton (a week early).

During the pre-swim chat last night, I was corrected!

Me! She who should, due to her age and experience

at least, be respected, if not obeyed. No chance of that.

Point of dispute was my question: Why do we,

the British people celebrate Guy Fawkes night.

He, who tried to blow up Parliament in 1605.

My recently retired senior police officer friend said,

“No Daphne, we celebrate the failure of that plot”.

Do we really I wondered, before going to watch

the massive town bonfire lit in front of hundreds

after the torchlight procession through the town.

Fun Fair, music, lights, laughter and chips for all.

Under Cover

Don’t judge a book by its cover

An old saying so wisely tells.

When looking round for a new lover

or listening out for wedding bells.

Knowledge needed ‘ere you uncover

Don’t be bewitched by magic spells,

with friendship you can rediscover

then time, all mystery soon dispels.

 

Oak and Ivy

Unnoticed advancing at a stealthy pace

belly crawling silently towards the prey,

unsuspected being so innocent of face

as owls catch mice, so Oak is Ivy’s prey.

If Ivy even has a plan

or is simply a serial strangler.

Scribblers Writing Group New Dates

Photo by Jacqueline Rackham Photography

 The next time the new writing group ‘Scribblers’ will be meeting is:

Sunday November 12^th from 2pm until 4pm.

So make sure to put that in big bold letters into your diaries.

Then the last meeting of 2017 will be Sunday December 10^th.

We have, in a burst of enthusiasm not warranted by the numbers who attended the first meeting, booked further dates that will take us well into the year 2018.

Sunday January 21^st

Sunday February 25^th

All meetings are for the moment from 2pm until 4pm and as we get more members perhaps we can take another hour and stretch it out until 5pm.

Since the first meeting at the Look and Sea visitor centre, I have received more enquiries, so my husband Steve and I are hopeful that the number of people attending in the future will have grown into a warm friendly crowd of poets and writers.

 Another delightful scene caught by Jacqueline Rackham 

The Look and Sea is such a delightful place to meet and is a joy just to take a walk along the bank of our lovely River Arun to get there.  In the Harbour Lights Café on the entry level, they serve all manner of tasty snacks and tempting cakes a well as teas coffee’s and the like.

Misty Drizzle

Soft mist of super fine drizzly rain,

unsure which is more true.

Starting along a woodland lane,

a thousand trees of similar grain,

routinely I traipsed on through.

Most of it hides from view this day

fifty metres in any way unclear,

a shrouded backdrop falls into play.

Clip-clopping riders’ ghostly words say,

invisibly hear them coming near.

Soaked to the skin, cloaked in mist

surrounding landscape lost from sight.

Hat pulled on helps chill desist

gloves un-pocketed for warmth enlist.

Still huge pleasure in midwinter light.

Another Start Point

Hoping to finish what I have started

first imagined when feeling downhearted,

now every day will be the same restarted

should more wisdom have been imparted?

This far from sensibility have I departed,

a challenge certainly not for the faint hearted.

Pray providence does not have me out smarted

though the plan be sound, an idea uncharted.

Start at the pool, then bike and run I darted

is this stupidity or merely too big hearted?

Everything I need each day is neatly carted

time will tell if this plan was wisely charted.

For every action there’s a reaction,

Can I each day advance just a fraction.

Open for discussion.

Having said some of the things below previously and some of the things below today,

I still confirm my belief that a poem is a mirror in a busy street.

The first of the following is a sonnet as far as I understand the rules.

Then we come to the piece below the dove sketch that follows some of the rules,

but not all of them.

It has fourteen lines

Each line has ten syllables.

There is a conclusion drawn.

It ends with a couplet.

However.

The verses do not rhyme according any formal rule.

We Just Don’t Get It Do We?

What if you can try to live every day

The very best person that you can be,

Few will not find that a refreshing way

be kind and understanding, that’s the key.

Weigh up the good points in all that you meet

Truthfully keeping thought prejudice free.

Frankly talk to everyone that you greet.

hear them out even if you don’t agree.

What is this thing with the torn tatty jeans?

This fashion is something I just don’t get,

From poverty not born so what it means

is a mystery agreed to forget.

By this token hostility can cease;

Let us live forever more in world peace.

 

 What if we still don’t get it?

I feel that people who read this sonnet

did not get the message there within it;

wondered at the sudden introduction

of a flippant and unconnected thing.

It may seem that way, but that is not so,

the meaning is more simple than it seems,

if we encounter something we don’t get

something these other people believe true,

we should allow them to hold their belief.

Allowing them to continue this path

we are not damaged or threatened by them;

peace is kept, though fundamentals differ.

Each of the other, nothing demanding,

just a peaceful lack of understanding.

Daphne Belt

So all I am saying is that if there is a change or a movement that is in a direction contra to our own beliefs or feelings that we should let it slide, let is go, particularly if it does not threaten or harm our direction, our own path, our own lives and homes.

In the original sonnet there is a modern day expression used in texts, email, Facebook twitter etc. that is unacceptable by some. Although it is heavily clear, it is also invisible to others. By including this I am simply trying to reach more eyes, more hearts.

It is also something that can be taken, left alone, laughed at or completely ignored.

Please leave your comments on this page or email them to me: dafbelt@outlook.com

ITU Triathlon LD Worlds1999 Sater Sweden

Säter, Sweden ITU Long Distance World Triathlon Championships 1999

Here above is the best team manager ever, the wonderful Ian Pettit. here he had come to support my charity 75 mini tri in 75 days that ended on my 75th birthday. He came along to that in 2014 and did the bike ride with me and had bubbly stuff waiting at the finish line.

This LD Worlds in Sweden holds a lot of memories and even though I ended up with an AG championship title, not all of the memories are good. One thing we had to be thankful for was that team GBR once more had Ian Pettitt as team manager and he managed in the end to make us all get our heads on straight and remember what we were there to do and to stop moaning about the appalling conditions that we had to endure during our stay at what we were lead to believe was a sports village.

Actually it was an old mental health institution of the old world kind. An Asylum. The more harmless groups were sent for holiday home visits but there was a secure block there also.

Team GBR were in the same building as the team from Australia who seemed to think it was a lot funnier than we did. We were on the floor above them. Great clanging iron, lock up barred gates and old, cold marble floors.  The result was that we did not want our doors closed on us, and on our level we left doors open onto the austere corridor apart from when changing.

It was a terrible shame because that is what we remember instead of the pretty lakes and woods thereabouts and a well run event.

 Women age group 55-59 With Mary Ann Wallace and Peggy McDowell Cramer who were place 2nd and 3rd and with whom I am still friends.

Säter, Sweden

ITU Long Distance World Championships

It was somewhere that we had never been

And so instant interest for a fresh new scene

Sweden beckons with Scandinavian cuisine,

adventure in pastures new, fresh and clean

We loved to go somewhere we’ve never seen.   

Fitness found and in sport we have remained

for triathlon for many a years we have trained.

Combining sport and holiday unrestrained

a new race within most vacations it is explained,

somewhere unique we would be entertained. 

The World Championships would be here

yet Säter, in Sweden proved somewhat queer

‘Accommodation in a sport village’ so less clear.

Of weird locations some mistake it would appear

in little more than cells where once lived fear.

Yet the site was one our heart would detest

on the GB team pm arrival late not impressed.

A place where the distraught once lived this test.

Charging us to stay there an idea far from best

Largest asylum in Sweden for our sport fes.t  

Clanging corridors in an institution is what

they gave us, cold floor and curtains forgot

cold water sink and the beds were simple cots.

Luxury for visiting teams and comfort, not a lot                                                        

team manager said to forget what this was not. 

This wise mans advice; focus on the job in hand                                                                           

think only of sport whilst in this foreign land.

Be determined to do well that would be grand

forget anger and rise to do what we had planned,

show strength and in sport we would proudly stand.

1999 Age Group Female 55-59 1st

Thinking in Green

 

Thinking in Green

When I think of green I think of

my Sunday run over the grassy downs,

a peaceful scene where sheep graze

and of mournful Red Kite sounds.

When I think of green I think of 

the sea and how the movement drifts,

restless pulsing power of the water

and of the ever changing light shifts.

When I think of green I think of

spring and tiniest flower shoots

that can push through solid concrete

and yet still be crushed by boots.

When I think of green I think of

summer fronds of the weeping willow

gentle floating on the slightest breeze

yet holds firm in harsh wind billow.

When I think of green I think of

of blue paint with yellow mixed;

two defiantly different shades

show opinions should not be fixed.

When I think of green I think of

a glass cross I wear around my neck,

the colour of faith in my mind,

a reminder to my behaviour check.

Negativity

I must not be negative

I must not be negative

I must not be negative

I must not be negative

I must not be negative

OK, OK, OK, OK, OK

Get a grip woman

please calm down

OK. OK.

I try not to believe

in mythical creatures

though the movie makers

think I do.

BUT

There are Dragons…….

at the doctor’s surgery

at the reception desk.

REAL ONES.

They are heavily disguised.

of course they are.

Beware mythical fire breathing creatures.

What worries me is…..

that they must be

breeding!

There are more of them

in the nearby pharmacy!

although,

whatever other world

they have invaded us from

must have a

Ministry of Evil Tricks

because they can

speak perfectly good English.

However……

They do not understand it!

The Cat Crept into the Crypt... The true story

The True Story of

The Cat that Crept into the Crypt

My dad used to drag out this old gem

to get a laugh every now and again

when ever a tongue twister arose,

along with Sister Susie I suppose.

Did Susie ever meet Peter Piper?

He was the Pickled Pepper sniper.

There can be no question as to why

the Cat Crept where he did can’t deny.

Into the Crypt for his natural call

sneeking in, doing a belly crawl.

Silent but deadly and more privately then

than two laps Round the Rugged Rock when

and where everybody might have seen

that Ragged Rascal as he careened.

It’s just a wonder at the end of the day

Crypt Creeping done you could well say.

Mission fulfilled as he sighed and crapped

then back to his basket where he napped.

Famous for sewing socks for sailors

bought from ‘Sewn by Susie’ retailers

which was how he was so deftly able

to have Crept into Crypt and under the table.

Ritta From Finland

Sitting at a pavement café for a while

a couple sat down at one of the tables,

placing her race bike behind her seat

 quick glance at gears, brakes and cables

Her pink race number showed 583

the age group, thirty five-thirty nine

her first race then at Iron distance

big day to come, face calm and fine.

The blue and white flag of Finland

began inter table Ironman chatter

some gentle advice from old hands

she hears reassurance in the natter.

Try to remember we do this for fun

if we see her tomorrow we’ll shout,

proof of training from a starter’s gun,

strength and focus, what it’s all about.

One of the marvellous lakes of Finland. 

When I spoke to Riita Antila- Lảngsjö the day before Ironman Barcelona she said the her aim was 12 hour plus a little bit, but her super first Ironman finish time was 11.10.57. Way to go girl. Hope to meet her and her fellow triathlete man again next June at Ironman 70.3 Lahti, Finland that will be the second event in our main aim pair of races less than two weeks apart. Elsinore in Denmark being the first one in mid June and Lahti at the end of that month.

Photos below are of the fabulously fast River Arun where it meets the sea in Littlehampton this view is right outside the Look and Sea visitor centre (also pictured) whe re our first meeting will take place this coming Sunday in the meeting room upstairs from 2-4pm

Open Water Swim Visualisation

Open Water Swimming Visualisation

Try to breathe without lifting your head

keep flat and breathe to the side instead.

Relax in the open water that you meet

as you roll your body and kick your feet.

Give yourself to the water and its silky flow

keep the rhythm and timing long and slow.

Make sure you calmly settle your breathing

in regular mode hand movement wreathing.

A paddle action in your mind evoke

be sure to fully exhale with each stroke.

Keep to your own comfortable pace

don’t swim too fast as if it’s a race.

Keep flat in the water let your body roll

from side to side with confident control.

Breathe in and fill your lungs to capacity

slip through the water with cool tenacity.

Like strong arms, water holds your body up

Stretch forward, form your hand to a soft cup.

Catch the water pull it back and through

take it past to your hips and away to strew.

Don’t be afraid of a strong current moving

You soon find swimming peaceful and soothing.

You don’t hold your breath as you skim along

movement and rhythm become sweet song.

Breathe exactly the same as walking the street

propelling yourself with arms legs and feet.

Every repeated stroke performed so gracefully

with strength the body is exercised gratefully.

Daphne Belt

Scribblers: First get together

 

Scribblers First Meeting

A few recent wanderings of my poor old frazzled mind here below, I hope they will be read by some and enjoyed by a few. Mostly though I hope that few people fed up with TV and with nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon, will wander down to join us at the Look and Sea visitor centre by the River Arun next weekend October 8th. Buy yourself a pot of tea and a cake or a glass of wine and a packet of crisps and come upstairs to the meeting room and listen to the things that we have written.

I hope there will be others apart from myself and that I am not the only one brave enough to get up and read their stuff. Otherwise I will have to fill the whole two hours myself, which I could easily do with the amount I have written over the last four years, since poetry writing, accounts of trips and events and tales became a regular thing to occupy my time and sooth my soul. It would be rather sad though just me reading to my husband and a couple of friends.

Yet if it comes to that I will. Never say die. Don’t talk about what you would like to do, or what your dreams are, bloomin’ well get on with it. Follow your dreams. Take that long walk in Spain. Do that obstacle race where you end up cold and muddy. Learn a new language then go and speak it.

Rooted

Feeling trapped and wasted

Trapped by love and hate

Wasted like an apple left to rot

That should be picked up and tasted

The feeling comes more often of late

A once young pearl that time forgot

Floating Fir Tree

It is only an optical illusion

but still it is hard to believe,

while sitting in an easy chair

my back against a cushion.

Out in the garden there

that huge evergreen,

with fir cones hanging

seems to be floating in air

like the talking heads

on some old Greek urns,

black and white illusion;

now this, now this instead.

No intelligence is needed

to work the problem out,

since the glass door frame

hides the trunk, I conceded.

Still, as you look at it though

then move a tiny jot to see

first the trunk and then a

floating tree, for a second or so.

Ha!

 

 Oberon’s Palace

For some obscure reason

It stands facing due north

It’s April; spring into summer season

A garden sized castle built in oak

With towers and central dome

An elaborate senseless joke

Four high towers topped with gold

Crosses of faith join flags of war

Looking ancient though far from old

Inside the great walls is a stony grotto

Water spouts supporting a regal crown

No explanation, no cause, no motto

Walls are tiled with a million neat shells

Creamy beige neutral shades

Of a labour of love the interior tells

A feature pattern using perhaps mussels in blue

Show classic urns containing a bush

Repeated on each inner wall all through

On first sight the world will smile

At the water held crown dancing for urns

Imagination holds the eyes a while

Stepping back to take in the whole place

Primitive carvings look out of keeping

Oberon’s Palace holds grandeur of face

As pleasing as the encounter is strange

Is it purely an expensive whim?

Ostentation gone mad in money’s range?

At close quarters or across the labyrinth lawn

Try to figure out the logic why

This fantasy exercise in whimsy was born

Incomprehensively most of the year standing

With it’s grand face in the shadow

Afraid of full light or am I misunderstanding

Dwarfed by the town’s Cathedral spires

Dedicated to Our lady and a Howard Martyred

Some old Dukes were great and other conspirers

Find the lovely building dream or enigma

Visitors struck speechless in awe

Some seeing wonder and others stigma

An envisaged journey from fascination

To create an artwork to use as backdrop

Brings a quaint fort-palace to this destination

All those in favour say Aye!

Aye for one.