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Denny Bradbury Books

Denny Bradbury Books

Monthly Archives: April 2011

The Water Sprite and the Waterfall

05 Tuesday Apr 2011

Posted by dennybradburybooks in fairytales

≈ 1 Comment

Where the rocks fell away the mighty river had to fall too. It became a place of magic and enchantment. As the water rushed over the edge it seemed to take on a life of its own. Beneath the waterfall and behind the waterfall was a cave. Inside the cave lived three creatures. There was Water Slug who crept about on the slippery rocks keeping the moss in order. He was a cheerful slug and minded not at all that other creatures thought him ‘odd looking’. He knew that his place in the grand order was vital to the cave’s equilibrium and so he was content. Another creature that lived alongside him in harmonious silence was Water Pippit. A bright green bird he flew in and out of the waterfall everyday. He loved the feeling of the water on his wings and he was happy just to exist in the small world of the waterfall. He was an unusual bird in that he never sang. He had long ago lost his voice at the time of the great storm when he never quite got dry. Since then he occasionally looked for his chirrup but, had as yet, not found it. Normally Water Pippit would sup off waterslugs but he was fond of the waterfall Water Slug and so they lived side by side without fear.

The waterfall was also the home of the famous Water Sprite. He was well known among all the creatures in the neighbouring forest and heath for his welcome and storytelling if their paths ever crossed. Once, particularly busy, Hare had travelled miles out of his way to avoid Water Sprite when he thought he had no time to stop and listen to one of the sprite’s magical stories. Whole days had been known to go by without either the teller or the listener being aware of the passing of time. It was well known among the local inhabitants that Hare had missed a particularly thrilling story that day and so no one ever again gave action to the thought of avoiding the sprite.

Water Sprite had a smile that lit up the sky. When he grinned the waterfall took on a hue so light that magical rainbows seemed to dance down with the water and up the waterfall and in through the water curtain and all along the walls of the cave. When he laughed there were no dark corners anywhere to be seen, not even in the deepest recesses of the rocks. In short he was a joy to behold. To be in his presence was to be blessed with happiness. Well, that is until one day, early in spring, Water Sprite woke up and felt strange. As he stretched he yawned and tried to sing as he usually did on first awakening. No sound came out of his mouth. He tried again, there was still no noise. Without even stopping to brush his teeth he rushed out of the cave, through the waterfall and stood in the morning light. The sun was beginning to come up over the horizon and it cast strange shadows on the ground. Water Sprite looked around for Water Pippit. He had also lost his voice and he wanted to talk to him about it. Gradually he realised that he couldn’t ask Water Pippit a question because he couldn’t speak. His shoulders dropped and he turned his back on the rising sun. Water Sprite felt so gloomy that he walked away from his waterfall and his cave. What a disaster! No one would come to hear his stories any more and he would be lonely.

Now it happened that a little girl was walking in the woods that very morning. She was an orphan and had no home and no family of any kind. Her name was Terpsichoria. She had not known who had named her or why but she did have a half remembered thought that the woman had been beautiful, graceful and kind. This thought she carried with her and every day when she found food in the forest or washed her clothes in the stream she smiled as she remembered. She had fended for herself for a long time and had grown accustomed to living out of doors. The leaves she used for bedding were warm and dry and she had never felt afraid of the woods or the heath. The last people who had taken her in had wanted a servant. They gave her many tasks every day but very little food or attention. Terpsichoria found that she didn’t mind the work so much as their indifference. They didn’t seem to hate her, they certainly didn’t love her, they just didn’t notice her. One day she walked down to fetch water and never went back. It did not take her long to discover that the birds of the air and the animals in the fields were her friends. She in turn helped them if they needed it. She helped sheep who were entangled in the briars. She helped birds who had hurt their wings. She had even taken a thorn out of the wolf’s paw.

The morning that Water Sprite lost his voice was a lovely morning, clear and fresh. Terpsichoria got up and ate her breakfast of berries and mushrooms. She drank clear water from the stream that ran through the wood. She bathed in the forest pool and then, as normal, she danced in the sunlit glade. Although she felt happy with her life she felt sometimes that it would be nice to have a friend. Someone with whom she could talk and share the happy moments, this she thought would bring her contentment. This day was just right for wandering afar. She had grown to know every tree in the wood and every plant on the heath. Her favourite flowers were forget-me-nots. They reminded her of the beautiful woman who had once given her love and her name. This morning she would venture further to find the way of the stream. She was curious so she walked along its course. She danced in the clear water and got rather wet. There was no one to tell her to stop so she did it again. The cool water ran over her feet and in between her toes and felt good. As she walked and danced her way along the stream she began to hear a noise that she couldn’t understand. It sounded like a rushing and gurgling but she had not known it before and so she became wary. She decided to go round away from the stream for a while so that she could see and understand what lay ahead. Terpsichoria had learnt that to understand the unusual and the unexpected made things less frightening. So she took her time and came to the waterfall by way of the heath. By this time it was well into the afternoon and she felt tired and thirsty. She sat by the waterfall and was enchanted by the music it made. She drank some of the water and dangled her dainty feet in the cool water. She slept in the warm afternoon sun.

Water Sprite wandered through the byways and highways of the forest and came to a clearing. In the corner of the clearing was a bed of leaves that obviously had been slept in. On the floor of the clearing were damp footprints that made a regular pattern on the dry earth. He was intrigued. He was still upset by his lost voice but decided that he would try to forget his problem and follow the footprints to see where they led. As he walked with his head down searching the ground for signs he fell over Hare who was taking a nap. Hare never again wanted to avoid him so he asked Water Sprite to tell him a story. At this Water Sprite only shook his head sadly, pointed to his throat, and walked on. This upset Hare so he followed Water Sprite to find out what was amiss. Further along the path they came to Very Wise Toad. He also asked Water Sprite to tell him a story. Again Water Sprite shook his head and pointed to his throat. Very Wise Toad joined Hare and they both followed the path Water Sprite was taking.

Water Sprite was surprised to find that the path led back to his waterfall. Even more astonished was he when he saw the young girl asleep on the bank with her head on a bunch of wild thyme that she had used as a pillow. Hare and Very Wise Toad were wary of anything human. They both ran behind a rock and crouched down to see what would happen.

Terpsichoria awoke to find a tall elfin figure staring at her. She was not afraid and sat up smiling. Water Sprite nodded in reply to her greeting and pointed to his throat and sighed. He sat beside her and looked so sad. Water Pippit flew down and he too, said nothing. This was not what Terpsichoria expected. Birds sang and sprites talked, everyone knew that. She looked at the waterfall and at the rainbows dancing in the sunlight. As she looked up through the rainbows she thought she saw a small fairy playing with musical notes. The fairy tossed the notes into the air and when they fell towards him he juggled with them and tossed them high again. Each time the notes fell towards him they made a different tune. Terpsichoria turned to Water Sprite and pointed to the fairy. “Can you hear the music? It sounds as if a water pippit was singing as he flew above the waterfall.” At that moment another fairy joined the first and he too threw musical notes into the air. These were of a deeper sound and almost it seemed as if the second fairy was talking. Once more the notes were thrown into the spray of the waterfall and as they dropped down to the fairy they took on the form of a poem.

The curious Hare and Very Wise Toad came to stand with Water Sprite and Terpsichoria. Very Wise Toad considered for a while then suggested that the fairies had taken the beautiful sounds from Water Sprite and Water Pippit for their own amusement. How would they get the voices back from the mischevious fairies? The four would need to think and perhaps employ some enchantments of their own for clearly the naughty fairies had taken the voices using magic.

They sat and thought. They sat and sighed and thought some more. Suddenly Very Wise Toad remembered some wise saying his father had taught him. If a fairy smells forget-me-nots they tend to forget what they are doing. The sensation lasts for a few moments but Very Wise Toad thought it may be enough time to get the voices back. Hare raced off to get the forget-me-nots while Water Sprite and Water Pippit made ready to stand under the waterfall and catch the notes as they fell. Very Wise Toad took the flowers when Hare came back and leaped up the waterfall. Water Sprite and Water Pippit went under the water, heads back and mouths open. Terpsichoria stayed on the bank and danced to divert the fairies. As the fairies noticed the dancer Very Wise Toad waved the flowers under their noses, they dropped the voices and Water Sprite and Water Pippit caught them. It needed only a little more magic to change the voices over as at first Water Sprite sounded like a bird and Water Pippit recited a poem.

Afterwards the group gathered in the cave and Water Sprite was able to tell Water Slug all about it. He was once again able to weave his magic spell when telling stories. Terpsichoria sat enchanted with the others. When the story was over she thought she ought to go back to her woodland bed. They all pleaded with her to stay and be part of their family of friends, and so she did. The fairies too became good friends and were always the first in line to listen to Water Sprite’s tales. They made amends for their mischief by helping Water Slug clean up the moss until it shone. As the days and years went by Terpsichoria became more of a sprite and less of a girl. They all lived very happily together and no one was frightened or lonely again. If, today, you stand by a waterfall you may just hear the tinkle of laughter or see a pretty sprite, dressed in forget-me-nots, dancing on water rainbows.

The End

Denny Bradbury

The Dryad and the Seahorse

04 Monday Apr 2011

Posted by dennybradburybooks in fairytales

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It was winter. The seashore was constantly lashed by crashing waves. They flung themselves relentlessly against the sand, pebbles and cliffs. Driftwood and seaweed were born along with the tide. As the water receded the beach was left strewn with the flotsam carried by the cold, green sea. As the young dryad watched the unfolding drama from her warm hiding place she was entranced by the wonderful colours of the winter scene. The grey skies were tinged with red. A hint of blue appeared now and then as the clouds scudded by. As the waves grew their green colour was topped by white foam while underneath they were a dark sea-blue. All these colours mixed with the deep red sandstone of the cliffs and the rainbow hues that were reflected in the wet pebbles and sand.  She sat cuddled up in her high cave and thought how she came to be here, all alone in the middle of a storm. It had been an unfortunate set of circumstances that had been made worse by her own stubbornness. She sighed, stretched and snuggled deeper into her fine spun blanket and continued staring at the sea.

Further out, where the sea was deeper and calmer and the current was less erratic there lived a seahorse. His name was Sheldon and he was rather unusual in that he had a mane made of hair just like a land pony. Also he didn’t need to be in water all the time. He had been orphaned for so long that he could not even remember his mother and father.  On the day of the storm he ventured a little higher than usual because he was intrigued by the patterns made by the waves as they broke overhead. He had not thought to go too far from safety as his instincts told him that there was extra danger there. He was about to turn back when he was caught by a passing piece of jetsam and it knocked him off his course. He clung to the sodden, jagged wood and hoped he would soon be able to drop and go home. This was not to be. The wood had a rusty nail embedded deep within it and Sheldon caught his tail on this and was unable to free himself. After a few minutes of drifting in this manner he was close to the surface and quite a long way from his home on the shelf. He closed his eyes and gave himself up for lost.

ii

As the rough winter day drew to a close the dryad took one last look at the dramatic scene that was fast fading into the twilight. She made her cave even more cosy and settled down for the night. She had many dreams that always plagued her sleep and they were often the same story. She would be standing before the woodland council who would all be chiding her from every side about her foolish and unthinking actions. Although she was very young she was not given any quarter. Her punishment was very severe and that was to be banishment for ten years. At this point in the proceedings a venerable dryad spoke out and offered a way back for the youngster. She said that if Sorel should prove herself worthy by an act of extreme bravery and dedication then they would let her back to the forest. Dryads are woodland creatures and have the job of looking after the trees. To be exiled from the woodland was a bitter blow and for many dryads would have proved fatal. Sorel was made of sterner stuff. She knew she was innocent of the crime for which she had been condemned but her loyalty to her sister’s memory would not let her speak out in her own defence. Her sister had died trying to right the wrong that she had done and so Sorel, with great compassion, had been silent and taken the punishment.

Sorel had lived in the cave for two years and it was very cosy. Gradually she had gathered sweet moss and bracken, twigs, drift wood and stones to furnish her home. Her cave was halfway up the sandstone cliffs that overlooked the sea. Oakwood, Sorel’s former home, was just over the horizon behind the cliffs where the trees were protected from the might of the weather by the towering rocks. A kindly elf took pity on Sorel and gave her the finest woollen shawl that would keep her warm and safe. He had an inkling that Sorel was hiding something and that she was not guilty of the crime for which she was banished so he decided to keep an eye on her and make sure she was not friendless. There was magic woven into the shawl and it would serve her well.

iii

Morning came clear and calm. Last night’s storm had passed and the cliffs and the beach were bathed in pale winter sun. There was a chill wind but as Sorel walked along the beach she had so much energy that she started to run and hop and dance over the pebbles. It was too cold for her to dip her toes in the sea but she ran by the side of the water as it lapped more gently, to and fro across the sandy stones. This morning the little dryad felt full of hope. When she had been exiled she thought she would be lost for ever but suddenly she began to think that there might be a way back. She had brought with her a tiny oak sapling that she kept and nurtured in the entrance to her cave. Not having a tree to care for was unthinkable and also it gave her a sense of purpose. She tended it with the love of centuries and watered it with tears that she shed for her sister who was now lost to her for ever.

As Sorel danced along the shore she spotted a piece of driftwood with an unusual shape lying in a rock pool. She decided to take it back to her cave. As she bent down to pick it up she noticed that some kind of creature was attached to the end of it. It looked dead to Sorel and she felt sad that the storm had taken a life. Gently she unhooked the creature’s tail and cradled the body in her hands. Sudden tenderness and the light of the sun encouraged Sheldon to open one eye. He realised that he had survived the battering of the waves but here was another danger. He did not know what this thing was that held him. He tried to wriggle free. He was so energetic despite his injury that Sorel dropped him into the rock pool. As Sheldon sank to the bottom of the pool he tried to swim but his injured tail would not work properly and so as he moved instead of being in control he turned round in circles. Sorel laughed at him and spoke, “Hey little one, who are you? What are you? Can I help?”

Sheldon was suspicious and tried to turn away but ended up back where he started.

Sorel laughed again, “You can turn and turn but you’ll always end up back at the same place.” She stopped laughing at him, “You’re hurt, let me help you.”

Sheldon’s tail did hurt and she did seem eager to help and he was in no fit state to runaway. “I’m Sheldon and I need to be in water, some of the time, my tail hurts. I’m at your mercy. Help me if you will.” 7 mins

A little while later Sorel had taken Sheldon back to her cave and settled him in the entrance by the oak sapling. She had put him in a hollow log which was filled with sea water. She had cleaned the wound in his tail and bound it with a strand of healing seaweed. It would take a while to heal but she thought he would then be as good as new. As the sun shone through the cave entrance the little seahorse slept and Sorel quietly went about her daily routine of tidying. Because she now had another creature to care for she felt even more sad that her sister was not here to share it with her. Her tears came even faster than ever and she had more than enough tears to give to the oak tree. She put some away in a dish made from a shell for the next day. As she was crying Sheldon woke from his sleep and saw what she was doing. He was over come with compassion for the dryad and determined to ask her why she cried, later when she was happier again.

iv

The elf, (Leaf was his name which when translated into Elvish looks something like; Pfthfthǽpysh♪whorl♫phewnon); who had befriended Sorel, had been asking questions about her trial. There had been intense rivalry between Sorel’s sister and Purslane, another dryad in Oakwood. It had started a long time ago because Purslane was jealous of Celandine’s beauty. Dryads have small pretty features as a rule but Celandine was considered to be beautiful beyond the norm. Trees don’t care how pretty their guardians are but Purslane was jealous and took every opportunity to damage Celandine’s reputation.  An opportunity arose one day when a handsome woodsman came to live on the edge of Oakwood. He knew that they should never cut down any living tree. He made his living by gathering the old wood that had naturally fallen, chopping it into bundles and selling them at market. Parslane grew rather fond of the young woodsman and one day made it quite clear to him of her favour. He, perhaps rather too brusquely, spurned her saying that he had fallen in love with Celandine. Parslane flew into a rage and became determined to bring them both down. So great was her jealousy that she went to Celandine and told her that the council had given up on her young tree, a rather sickly oak sapling that Celandine was nursing back to health, and that she must ask the woodsman to cut it down. This Celandine did with tears flowing down her cheeks. It was as the last bough fell that Celandine fell into the arms of the young man for comfort.

Sorel came upon her sister in this compromising position and told her to go away and take an acorn and plant it in the most advantageous spot she could find. Parslane had spoken with the elders and drew them into the clearing just as Sorel was trying to clear away the debris.  The surprise on the face of Parslane and the anger on the faces of the council was both revealing and frightening. Sorel was summoned to appear before the elders that evening. Sorel looked at Parslane and knew she had been instrumental in this calamity. As dusk fell on the wood Sorel looked for her sister to tell her to stay out of sight and explain what was going to happen. She came upon Celandine lying beside the place where she had planted the acorn. As Sorel touched her she realised that she had died for underneath her sister’s body was a slither of wood that had pierced her heart. Her sister faded away and became a shadow that would drift for ever over the tree tops of her beloved wood.

The woodsman left the wood to wander, alone and bereft, until he found a home with his brother, the shepherd.

The elders of the council were unforgiving that evening and handed down the punishment of exile. Sorel refused to explain that it was her sister who had cut down the tree so she just had time to gather her few belongings and the young sapling before she was silently excluded from her home and her friends.

Leaf made a promise to himself that he would get to the bottom of the incident and try to make amends.

v

Sheldon grew stronger by the day. Sorel grew happier by the day. They became very fond of one another and cheered each other with long stories through the dark winter nights. Each day Sheldon spent more and more time out of water. Sorel used her special shawl to keep him warm. Each time he wore it he seemed to grow. He grew larger than any other seahorse anywhere. His real mane of hair spread to the rest of his body and he started to look less like a sea horse and more like a small pony. By Spring time he had lost all of his seahorse characteristics and was indeed a proper pony. He did like to swim though and sometimes went far out to sea just because he could. Sorel and Sheldon walked each day on the shore and wondered at his transformation. They decided he must have been enchanted and that for some reason the spell had been broken. In this they were quite right. Sheldon’s parents had roamed the hills away beyond the wood. They were frivolous and left their tiny, odd looking foal while they galloped and had fun. Leaf had found the tiny creature just as a troll was about to eat him for his supper. Leaf distracted the troll and took Sheldon away where the troll couldn’t go. Trolls do not like the sea, it scares them and so Leaf transformed Sheldon into a seahorse until such times as it would be safe for him to return to land. If he ever did the spell would gradually fade away and he would be restored to his former state.

Every day Leaf would go to stand on the top of the cliffs and watch Sorel and Sheldon become friends. As the spring came with all the enchanting woodland flowers showing their colourful heads and the leaves on the trees burst forth with bright green light Leaf decided that the time had come to bring Sorel back to the wood. It was not going to be easy as Parslane had become very powerful since the sisters had left. She was about to be asked to be part of the elder council. Leaf had to go away to bring back the woodsman as part of his plan. One evening he took off and travelled many miles before sunrise searching and searching for the hapless woodsman. Leaf had done many kindnesses over the years to many creatures including some people who lived on the edge of the wood. When after seven nights of searching he had no clue as to the young man’s whereabouts he asked the old bodger and his wife if they knew where the woodsman lived. They told him to ask the old spinning woman and she told him to ask the charcoal burner and he told him to ask the shepherd and he said that the young woodsman was his brother and that he lived with him and his family. Since the day of Celandine’s death he had not picked up his axe for any reason. He roamed the fields and never went near the woods as it made him sad. Leaf was relieved to finally find the man as the time for Parslane’s entry into the council was drawing very near. What Leaf hadn’t accounted for was the young woodsman’s reluctance to help. He reasoned that it wouldn’t bring Celandine back as she was lost for ever. It took all Leaf’s powers of persuasion, and a little magic, to get him to agree to the plan.

vi

Early summer in the woods was always enchanting. The light shone through the leaves and branches which dappled the ground. Creatures scurried around finding food and revelling in the warmth after the cold winter and rather chilly spring. It had been decided to hold the Elder Council on the first evening after the first briar rose blossomed. Leaf kept a careful watch over the briar and when it was nearly ready he put his plan into action.

Sorel and Sheldon had received a visit from Leaf. He told them that there was a special party on in the woods and if they were quiet and remained hidden he would lead them to a spot where they could see what was going on. On no account must they make any noise or they would be chased from the wood. Sorel agreed and was very excited as she knew it was Artemis’ fete day and there would be much merriment. Artemis was the goddess of trees and dryads and so her special day was always celebrated as the dryads who held her in the highest esteem.

Leaf led the two friends to a thick bush where they were well hidden. He had told them there may be a surprise but on no account could they cry out. After the heat had started to go from the afternoon the woodsman appeared in the clearing carrying his axe; he sat on a log and seemed to be waiting for someone. A short while later Parslane entered the same clearing and went up to the young man and put her arms round his neck. She smiled up at him and said, “I forgive you for preferring Celandine. Now it is just you and me.” It was clear to Sorel and Sheldon that the woodsman was uncomfortable but Parslane was so sure of her own beauty and her new position of power that was about to be confirmed by the council that she did not notice anything untoward in his manner.

Gruffly the young man said, “Thank you for agreeing to meet me on such an important night like this. Has anyone ever found out about the truth of that day when Celandine died?”

Parslane answered still smiling her triumphant smile, “Her sister is banished and no one knows that I was the one to tell her to cut down the tree. I was jealous of your love for her. Now you want me back,” she paused and her eyes shone with the power that has no compassion, “Well I am not to be trifled with; you will die now so that you can never tell anyone of what I have just confessed.” Parslane held a thorn in her hand that was tipped with poison from the deadliest of toadstools. As she raised her hand to plunge the awful thorn into the young man’s arm Leaf leapt forward and knocked it away from her grasp. All the council who had been hiding in the bushes around the clearing came forward and surrounded Parslane. She was carried away to await her punishment.

vii

The evening was nearly over. Sorel had been exonerated by the council and allowed back into the woods. Parslane had been banished forever and stripped of all her rights as a dryad. Gradually she would become a shadow and then fade to nothing for such was the fate of dryads who lose their way so completely. The woodsman had agreed to come back to live near the forest and clear up as before.

Leaf, Sorel and Sheldon were sitting by the sea on the shore underneath Sorel’s cave. Sorel was quietly pleased with all that had happened but she was very shocked at the attempt by Parslane to kill the woodsman. Between them they decided that they would all look out for each other in the years to come. Sorel would go back to the woods but also keep her cave by the sea for it is where she found great peace and enchantment almost to match that of being in her beloved wood. Sheldon would be her constant companion and she could ride him whenever she wished. Together they would regard Leaf as the dearest of friends. None of them would be lonely again. After all it was Leaf’s compassion for a young foal and his belief in Sorel that had led to such a happy outcome.

The End

Denny Bradbury

Education Secretary’s views gets support

03 Sunday Apr 2011

Posted by dennybradburybooks in Literacy News

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Denny Bradbury, literature, Michael Gove

The Education Secretary says he is concerned and worried that British students aren’t reading enough Victorian novels.

And author Denny Bradbury agrees and supports his comments.

Michael Gove has demanded that we create a culture of reading.

The Conservative MP says classic literature risks fading out in schools as many students are allowed to complete exams without studying a single book written before the 20th century.

Less than one in 100 pupils who sat the most popular English literature exam last year based their answers on novels published prior to 1900.

Poet and also author of the work of fiction called ‘The Reunion’ and Denny Bradbury supports Michael Gove’s concerns.

She agrees with the Education Secretary’s points and says “it is important that we do create a culture of reading, one of my literary heroes is Thomas Hardy, reading his work inspired me to write’.

Lulworth Cove

02 Saturday Apr 2011

Posted by dennybradburybooks in Fiction

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Denny Bradbury, Durdle Door, Lulworth Cove

Lulworth Cove, Natural Beauty

Lulworth Cove is a small village in Dorset, most famous for its natural horse-shoe shaped harbour. It’s situated about half a mile south of the village of West Lulworth, with a population of less than a thousand A popular tourist spot, it forms part of the Jurassic Coast World Heritage site – 95 miles of coastline stretching from East Devon through to Dorset.  It’s England’s first natural World Heritage Site. Lulworth Cove forms and important part of the history of English coastline – recording 185 million years of the Earth’s geological past.

It’s also the meeting place for 5 friends in ‘The Reunion’ a new novel from Denny Bradbury. They meet a Lulworth Cove and take boats out to sea – where they get into trouble. The book follows their lives after Lulworth Cove.

Geologists estimate the cove was formed more than 100,000 years ago, with powerful waves forming the horse-shoe shape. Commercial fishing takes place at the cove – scallops are caught and sold locally. The grounds were also once popular for catching lobster – the lobster nets can still be seen at low tide.

The area has a rich history with artefacts from the Bronze Age, Celtic, Roman and Anglo Saxon settlers. The name Lulworth is Saxon for Manor or place of Lulla. Lulworth has a mention in the Doomsday book of 1066, created after the Norman Invasion. It records 16 cottagers, 33 villains and 38 borders and serfs.

There are even claims Napoleon Bonaparte visited the cove in 1804. A young farmer’s wife suggested he was looking at a map to decide whether it would be a suitable landing place for an invasion. Much of the surrounding area forms the Lulworth Estate, privately owned by The Weld family. This includes Lulworth Castle which is also the site for Camp Bestival, the annual music festival.

In ‘The Reunion’ Denny Bradbury describes Lulworth Cove as “a quiet beach, rocky in places, the twin headlands reached around forming nearly perfect circle as if to embrace the space within”. In the book, the relationships between the five women are tested after their time at LulworthCove.

Sarah Hogan

A History of Poetry: Part 1 – From humble beginnings to words of the Gods

01 Friday Apr 2011

Posted by dennybradburybooks in Poetry

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Denagerie of Poems, Denny Bradbury, History of Poetry, Poetry

It is a rather difficult task explaining the progress of poetry. Although changes are evident between the authors of Ancient Greece, such as Homer, and those of medieval England (Chaucer); the romantics to the breakaway routes of free-verse in the Victorianera, its essence remains the same.

Poetry in one form or another has its roots firmly planted 6000 years ago.

Creators of ‘poetry’ at the time did not see it as a romantic art form as many see it today.  Around 3000BC poetry was merely a tool – a means of communication, of storytellingand explanation.

The earliest written work found is the ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’, a Sumerian legend datingback to the 4th Millennium BC.

Enkidu had defiled his body so pure,his legs stood still, though his herd was in motion.  Enkidu was weakened, could not run as before,but now he had reason, and wide understanding. (Epic of Gilgamesh, translated by Andrew George).

The later introduction of rhythm and rhyme enabled a more memorable form oforal record-keeping. It is believed the ‘lyric’ dates back to this era, where rhythmic storytelling was first added to music – to be accompanied by a ‘lyre’.

Short musical lyrics began to change into long narratives with the likes of Homer in Ancient Greece. The introduction of the written language aided greatly this transition asstories no longer needed to be easily memorised.
Look now how mortals are blaming the gods, for they say that evil comes from us, but infact they themselves have woes beyond their share because of their own follies.  (The Odyssey, Homer).

Subject matter of the time tended to relate to the gods and of heroic storytelling.

Although written several thousand years later, poet Denny Bradbury incorporates amodern-day twist to the exaggerated heroic storytelling of the Greeks. Her poem ‘Nunon the Tow Path’ from ‘Denagerie of Poems’ takes a quiet approach to heroism – everyday people affecting the lives of others without question.

Unlike Denny, however, the ‘poets’ of Ancient Greece believed themselves more as translators to the gods (accepting the gift from Muses) than authors in their own right.

Roman poetry was for the most part a continuation of the Greek style. Yet here we start to see an introduction of philosophy and an attempt to blend gods and scientific understanding. And since ’tis thou aloneGuidest the Cosmos, and without thee naught is risen to reach the shining shores of light, Nor aught of joyful or of lovely born, Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse which I presume on nature to compose(On the Nature of Things, Lucretius, translated by William Ellery Leonard)

Poetry in a form continues to change and blossom with every new external influence. We leave it here questioning the power of the gods. They weren’t put there to be remote but to the wise were portals to represent the power of gods and light to earthbound mortals

(Still Standing, Denagerie of Poems, Denny Bradbury, 2009.)

Laura Scott

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