Tag Archives: archeology

Black Fig

February 3, 2021archeology, Life, poem, Poetryarcheology, Life, poem, poetry, sicilyThe Cheesesellers Wife

Slumped in still hot shade
Cowering from the late morning Sicilian summer sun
We have walked the dry vineyards since dawn
Scouring topsoil for archaeology
For signs of Roman, Arab, Norman
Now we melt sleepily beside our haul
Fragments of pots and tiles
And peer out down the dirt road for our belated lift
A soft plop distracts us, causes us to look up
To realise that our shelter is a fig tree
With sudden energy we jump to shake the branches
Eager for juicy sweetness
When the car arrives, we are gorged on overripe black figs
Hot but content.

Cochi

July 31, 2019archeology, Life, poem, Poetryarcheology, cochi, poem, poetry, sicilyThe Cheesesellers Wife

Deep ploughed grooves
reveal treasures between vines
broken pots, beads, loom weights,
amphora base inscribed with a name.
Burnt edges speak of conflagration,
terror, loss, pain.
Archeology of human fear.

Cochi was the term for pot sherds when we were Archeological Field-Walking in Sicily several years ago.

The Aurochs and the Pink

June 22, 2019archeology, England, history, poem, Poetryarcheology, auroch, flint, poem, poetry, prehistory, StonehengeThe Cheesesellers Wife

On the plains
forest deep
springwater wells up
fills a hollow
where Aurochs drank

So came our mothers and fathers
shooting arrows
flinging spears
to take abundant meat

Settling close by
they found a special magic
for flints taken from the waters
turned colour
to a wondrous
startling

Pink

And history began

………Blink Mead near Stonehenge appears to be the site where everything started. Algae in the waters nearby turns the surface of flints a truly shocking pink. It is strongly suggested that this is why the whole landscape of Sailsbury Plain became sacred, culminating in the biulding of Stonehenge.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blick_Mead

…and an Auroch is a very large cow…. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aurochs

To walk among ruins

May 15, 2019archeology, history, philosophy, poem, Poetryarcheology, history, philosophy, poem, poetry, ruinsThe Cheesesellers Wife

To walk among ruins is to realize the fragility of life
To connect with those who came before
To observe commonalties,
To puzzle at differences
To marvel at ingenuity
To hear their voices echoed in stones that have stood for thousands of years
Inevitably, to misunderstand the message

Re-blogged from 2016

Hill forts

March 23, 2019archeology, poem, Poetryarcheology, brexit, Britain, Europe, Fortress Europe, hill fort, hills, MigrationThe Cheesesellers Wife

Sitting on high tumbled ramparts,
grassy domed crater summiting an English hill
where long forgotten battle dead
lie in deep encircling ditches
strange many curled seedpods of Loosestrife
boil up from long grasses.

My mind drifts to mid-Atlantic and volcanic Faial
where people scattered in panic
as deep lake waters drained swirling into the volcano below
afraid that, with magma heating,
the waters would roil back out
destroying all.

Here, in England, emotions roil.
This fort’s tall palisade was
built to defend against the outsider, the other.
Now my country retreats within other palisades
toppling the first domino
to consequence unknown.

Hot gas bubbles seeth up
and through Maria Laach,
the forgotten Rhineland Supervolcano,
bubbling, boiling, at Europe’s heart
unheeded.

Whilst America has elected an arrogant fool
Europe tipple topples into fractions.
Generations have avoided war
yet the great project of Europe
is cracking apart
and the fool given dreadful power
may burn us all.

Hill forts cannot help us now.

The other name for Loosestrife
is Bomb-Weed.

Bones

December 5, 2018archeology, Life, poem, Poetryarcheology, bones, Life, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

Slender bones, delicately traced
staring grinning skulls.
No skin, no muscle,
no eyes, no heart or other parts.
Yet they tell a knowing eye many tales
of wounds healed, muscle strengths,
diseases and battles fought.
Indications of the life lived
And sometimes the death faced.

‘Capture’ published by London Grip New Poetry

September 4, 2018archeology, poem, Poetryarcheology, Capture, poem, poetry, prehistory, published poemThe Cheesesellers Wife

My poem ‘Capture’ is now published in the new issue of London Grip New Poetry

http://londongrip.co.uk/2018/09/london-grip-new-poetry-autumn-2018/#hammond

The title page for the whole edition is on line at http://londongrip.co.uk/2018/09/london-grip-new-poetry-autumn-2018/

Cochi

July 11, 2018archeology, art, history, poem, Poetryarcheology, Found poem, history, poetry, prehistory, sicilyThe Cheesesellers Wife

Cochi was the term for pot sherds when we were Archeological Field-Walking in Sicily several years ago.

We live on the high ground

April 5, 2018archeology, exmoor, Life, poem, Poetryarcheology, exmoor, family, Life, Neolithic, poem, poetry, prehistory, Stone age, stone circlesThe Cheesesellers Wife

We live on the high ground
Below us the water tumbles and falls, jumping over buried rocks
Water criss-crosses the land eventually falling to the sea
Life is good here on the high, fresh soil and clear water
Healthy children, full bellies, long lives
Yesterday we sowed seed, laughing and singing
Today the sun is warm and the birds are singing for me
I try to put the birdsong into speech
As we knap flints from the coast
Mother is drawing a circle on the turf near the Family stones
A circle stones of to encompass Grandmother who closes in to death
We will cover her in the soil of home to keep her with us
Here on the high ground

Originally published in Three Drops from a Cauldron: Issue 11

Neanderthal

March 31, 2018archeology, Life, love, poem, Poetry, science poetryarcheology, DNA, family, Life, love, neanderthal, poem, poetry, prehistoryThe Cheesesellers Wife

Was it the red hair
that so entranced us?
The strong nose
on a strong young man?
Or that capable stocky young woman
who didn’t moan at first frost?
Where did we get our blue eyes from after all?
In the snows of almost perpetual winter
and at the warm shores of the middle sea
we met them, loved them,
raised their children.
And left them behind.