SELLEST OSAST
What happens when a storm stops being a threat and becomes a release? This week, we climb.
We begin on a Yorkshire moor in 1836, with eighteen-year-old Emily Brontë—a poet who walked the moors alone for hours, in weather that sent everyone else indoors, and came back each time not diminished but restored. Her poem High Waving Heather doesn't watch the storm from safety. It finds freedom inside it. For the first time in a while, our guest poem comes from a woman, and it more than earns its place.
Then we climb into Cumbria, onto the real Kirkstone Pass—a one-in-four gradient locals call The Struggle, cut through four hundred million years of volcanic stone, where no tree can root and the crest arrives without warning: the gradient simply stops, and the whole sky opens.
This week's practical work—The Gradient Draft: why the hardest, most unrewarding stretch of a poem isn't a sign you're on the wrong road, and how to keep moving through it without losing the thread.
Also this week: a first look at the next book in this series, Somerset In Verse — Exmoor To Levels In Poetry, out in paperback on Amazon from 3rd September. No pre-orders—just the date to remember.
Enter our competition: Suggest a guest poem by emailing aldencarrow78@gmail.com for your chance to win a signed copy of Cumbria In Verse – Lakes To Fells In Poetry, sent to you by hand.
Subscribe on Apple Podcasts or Spotify so you don't miss next week's walk.
We begin on a Yorkshire moor in 1836, with eighteen-year-old Emily Brontë—a poet who walked the moors alone for hours, in weather that sent everyone else indoors, and came back each time not diminished but restored. Her poem High Waving Heather doesn't watch the storm from safety. It finds freedom inside it. For the first time in a while, our guest poem comes from a woman, and it more than earns its place.
Then we climb into Cumbria, onto the real Kirkstone Pass—a one-in-four gradient locals call The Struggle, cut through four hundred million years of volcanic stone, where no tree can root and the crest arrives without warning: the gradient simply stops, and the whole sky opens.
This week's practical work—The Gradient Draft: why the hardest, most unrewarding stretch of a poem isn't a sign you're on the wrong road, and how to keep moving through it without losing the thread.
Also this week: a first look at the next book in this series, Somerset In Verse — Exmoor To Levels In Poetry, out in paperback on Amazon from 3rd September. No pre-orders—just the date to remember.
Enter our competition: Suggest a guest poem by emailing aldencarrow78@gmail.com for your chance to win a signed copy of Cumbria In Verse – Lakes To Fells In Poetry, sent to you by hand.
Subscribe on Apple Podcasts or Spotify so you don't miss next week's walk.
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Ameerika Ühendriigid
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Otsi kanali Alden Carrow's Poetry Podcast viimaseid osasid.
MUUD EPISOOD SELLES PODCASTIS
What do a Victorian priest praising a spotted cow and a wind-scoured Somerset hilltop have in common? Everything doesn't have to match to hold together.
We begin in Wales, 1877, with Gerard Manley Hopkins's Pied Beauty—ten and a half lines praising the dappled, the "counter, original, spare, stran…
What do you do with the ten thousand years underneath your feet, while half a million pairs of shoes wear the path above it smooth?
We begin in 1858 with Christina Rossetti's Up-Hill—a poem built as pure dialogue, one voice growing more anxious with every question, the other never once changing it…
What does it take for a drowned thing to stay readable, instead of just staying intact?
We begin with the Titanic. Thomas Hardy's The Convergence of the Twain, written nine days after the sinking for a charity matinee at Covent Garden—a poem so cold about human loss that it never once mentions a b…
What do you do with the most mythologised hill in England, when your own poem refuses to mention the myth at all?
We begin with the legend at full volume: Tennyson's Avalon, from The Passing of Arthur—an island where "falls not hail, or rain, or any snow," promised to a dying king who admits, in t…
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