By Alicia Hayden
I just thought I'd post a quick update and let you know how my poetry collection is progressing. The collection is still tentatively called "Multi-coloured Ghost Towns", and it is exploring wildlife and nature, with threads of additional themes such as love, grief, loss, and trauma underpinning some of the poems.
Alicia Hayden
Alicia is a young, award-winning wildlife photographer, artist, writer, and filmmaker from North Yorkshire
Follow her on Twitter @aliciahaydenart
The poems in this collection feel much more personal, and dig deeper emotionally, which is exciting (if nerve-wracking!) to be exploring. The collection is rooted in two places - the UK and South Africa (potentially a few poems from Zimbabwe might pop in too!) - pulling on experiences I've had in both places, the diversity and colours of nature found across the world, as well as close to home.
I've got 18 poems so far (I may have a few more by the end of the week, as I appear to be in a writing spree at the moment!), but none are illustrated, and I haven't categorised or edited them yet - so it's still in the early stages! Below is one of my favourite ones "Swimming in the rain".
I was thinking that I'd really like the collection to have a foreword, I think either from Sophie Pavelle - as she's read some of my poems before, and really liked them - or Tiffany Francis-Baker - who has also read some of my poems before, and who has been a massive inspiration of mine for her poetic way of writing about nature!
Alicia.
Note: Alicia has received funding from our Young Naturalist Fund
Swimming in the rain
I was writing an email to a friend, and the suggested header:
"Swimming in the rain" - a mistake on a pop-culture reference, surely,
But it got me thinking.
Whilst working in Northern Norway, a rainstorm hit our wooden hut,
Shaking the logs and vibrating off the veranda like a new take on a glockenspiel,
The wettest summer they'd seen in decades.
And I was out the door like a bat out of hell,
Desperate for the release - the freedom -
Laces barely tied, tumbling over myself, towel flapping in hand,
Hair flapping over my face - a natural veil -
The river, still a slow flow, icy cold and crystal clear,
It beckoned to me, the raindrops a drumroll of anticipation
As I slipped out of earth-sodden clothes and into a silky shock
So fresh, so sharp - she stole my breath,
Raindrops blending with tears as I dipped under and up,
Through the ripples, over rocks, half swimming, half paddling,
Until the grime and dirt of a week's work
Went floating away; a kind of ending, or perhaps
A new beginning.
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