INDIGO DREAMS PUBLISHING LTD
PLEASE NOTE OUR OFFICE WILL BE CLOSED FROM
20TH MARCH UNTIL 2ND APRIL 2019
We are delighted to be working with and aiding the League Against Cruel Sports with the publication of this anthology.
'For The Silent' will contain poems which celebrate the natural world, condemn the cruelty of blood sports and speak out for the silent creatures in our countryside. Funds raised from the sale of this book will help the League in its work.
Read more about the League by clicking here:
‘For The Silent’ offers two ways to support the League :
1) Purchase a copy of the book for £10 plus p&p
2) Become a Named Supporter by donating £25. Have a permanent record of your support with your name listed in the book with other named supporters. You will also receive a free copy of the book, postage paid to the UK (extra Europe / Rest of World). Donations must be received before end March for names to be included.
A5 Anthology ISBN 978-1-912876-04-4
£10.00 + P&P PUB: 2nd MAY 2019
Books will be dispatched on or shortly prior to the publication date.
Please choose your option from the links below:
ORDER 'FOR THE SILENT' HERE
DONATE to be NAMED SUPPORTER HERE
(includes free copy of 'For The Silent')
All authors, photographers, artists and others who have their work included and those who have granted permission for work to be included in this anthology have donated their time, energy and talent for the benefit of League Against Cruel Sports.
We at Indigo Dreams Publishing applaud and thank each of them.
Ronnie Goodyer, Indigo Dreams Publishing and Poet-in-Residence, League Against Cruel Sports
Dawn Bauling, Indigo Dreams Publishing
The Song of Sally Weaver - Zoe Mitchell
When I change from woman to hare, I shrink
but am never diminished. It’s freedom,
I feel it keenly; the close-packed power
of muscles made to run, the speed that feels
like flight and the joy of a barefoot streak
across close-cropped turf and deep green valleys.
Over the downland in my brindled pelt,
I race along the belly of a whale.
Only romance can trap me; my lover
can confiscate my charm if I confess.
All my magic would drain away, the crunch
of spring-loaded rules would shatter my bones.
I am careful not to let any man
love me but even if I dart away
there are other means of capture – hunters
and predators will soon find the scarpfoot
and the moon isn’t always a mother
to us all. She can light a gun sight too,
she’s as much a friend to the stalking hounds
as she is to me. I must keep moving
to be free. If I am shot, I wonder
where the bullet goes, which creature it kills.
As both woman and hare I ask nothing
of the world than that I may run and know
the grassy hills, the sea and sky, the fossils
and bands of flint that sleep beneath my feet.
From Hag; Indigo Dreams
Deer by Loch Tay – Seth Crook
None in the day.
They come down in darkness,
stay until dawn.
With the nibbled kale,
the gnawed turnips,
you'd be baffled.
Unless you stepped out
carrying a lamp,
saw your fields full
of the quiet vagrants
whose lives are distant,
however close they are.
If they culled us,
they'd have every right;
hanging us up in bits,
in freezers,
in sheds,
stomping on all lamps.
Let there be light, we say,
Let there be darkness,
they answer, racing for their hills.
Against the Garden - Oak Ayling
Bodies slumped
Between tires and tarmac
Bless my children, Lord
Boys know badgers
By the colour of their dead
Broken by the weight of progress
See how we have turned against the garden and it’s growth?
How many horses, four? With their
Hundreds of hooves pounding, thunder
Hide! Hide! Hide!
Here come the white, red, black & pale
Horses, Horsemen, Hounds and foaming
Hound’s teeth, 42 daggers bared, baying
Hear the sound of the world ending for one
Hear the sound of us marching to our own
See how we have turned against the garden and it’s growth?
Bless the wings of
Birds which will not carry them to safety
Bow your heads for a hundred thousand
Bodies falling softly to the ground
But the season is the season; feathers & ash will rain down, Oh
Bloodlust is it’s most savage in the civil.
See how we have turned against the garden and it’s growth.
To Those That Defy the International Ban on Whaling - Jane Burn
A space of sea
as big as four million cars,
two million houses,
twelve million men.
Great brained, huge-headed, pottval –
named for a boiled creature.
Oiler of industry. Please, not sperm.
Call her Cachalot, after her teeth,
this wonder, rather than after what we took.
Scrimshaw scratched, to pass the time –
pictures of ships, portraits of loves ones.
Words. Try Physeter
and bring to mind her blowhole, her breath.
Even her iron-rich shit
grows the creatures that eat
the carbon from our air.
She is magic.
Sixteen months to grow her baby inside her.
It will drink one hundred gallons of milk in a day.
Each will carry tonnes of blood in their veins.
Big enough to sink the Essex.
Big as a bus.
You could fit the weight
of two human beings
inside her heart.
BOOK LAUNCH
FOR THE SILENT will be launched as a highlight of the Cheltenham Poetry Festival on
THURSDAY MAY 2nd 8.30pm - 10.00pm at The Playhouse Theatre, Cheltenham.
This will be part of an Indigo Dreams double-bill and follows the INDIGO DREAMS SHOWCASE. It would be great if you could join us!
FULL DETAILS / TICKETS HERE:
https://www.cheltplayhouse.org.uk/whats-on/
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