Cathy Bird Fine Arts: Painter, Teacher, Poet Contemporary English Poetry

A short selection of poems by Cathy spanning the last 3 decades.... (on the right, a picture of the cover of "Aeon", an anthology of poetry containing several poems by Cathy Bird) Considering When you take out your pain In a formless palpitating mass With jagged nerve-endings that Retreat like snail horns Look at it and consider it again Until it forms a clear, cold egg That you can hold in your palm Then add it to your collection One day you will take it down from the shelf And find its brittle shell, dust on your hand That you can blow away. 1975 Traps Lead me out of the Wilderness, Brother Lead me out of the Wild. Grow me back my milk teeth, Mother Milk me meek and mild. Tear off the Trappings of Treason, Brother Turn me the Coat of Truth, Ring me the Dove of Reason, Brother Sing me the Song of Sooth. Quill me a Quiver of Quickness, Brother Wend me the Way Within Suck me the Source of the Sickness, Brother Shed me the Skin of Sin. Monk me the Habit of Horsehair, Brother Harlot me out of the Hay. Shred me the Shirt of the Shriven, Brother Flog me the Penitent Flay. Flap me the Feathers of Freedom, Brother Harp me the Hymn of Cain. Rock me the Rack of Redemption, Brother Thumb me the Screw of Pain. Conceive my Immaculation, Brother Nun me the Coif of Grey. Pyre me my Immolation, Brother Drive me an Auto da Fe. Hand me the Hammers of Heaven, Brother Get me the Gongs of God. Sign me up for Salvation, Brother And stamp my Soul in the Sod. 1983 How could I leave you? How could I leave you, Earth? Your fading thistle And the ambling, docile bee. Your warm sun pooling, Through the pattern of the tree. And your mown grass scented By the ragged sedges. And your dry grass rustling In the wind's caresses. Space is cold loneliness Whistling with emptiness. How could I leave you. . . Slow-smiling, Soft-lying, Breeze-sighing Earth? 22/7/83 An Ode to Kelly Holmes Kelly Holmes, you golden Kelly, How you turned our legs to jelly, When we watched you on the Telly Running for the Gold! Kelly Holmes, what sweet surprise In your half-believing eyes "It's really true! It wasn't lies! I have won the Gold!" Kelly Holmes, you golden wonder How you made that stadium thunder When, without a single blunder You won your second Gold! If at first they don't succeed Discouragement they never heed Girls of Kentish Kelly's breed They try and try for Gold! Kelly, Britain's heroine, You're our own Kentish Sporting Queen! We'll be dancing on the village green, When you bring home the Gold! NOTE: This poem written during the Athens Olympics 2004, was read on BBC News after Kelly's spectacular Olympic Double Gold and published in the local press Harvest Festival Let us rise and walking gaze around And let us listen for that soundless sound Our eyes together search the ambient sky For cloud-occluded lifetimes long gone by And let our touching roam the roughing bark To feel the faintest remnant of our mark Let's place our feet with ultra-loving care In indents where we danced when we were fair And let us seek the settings in this loam To pace the boundaries that once were home And as we move once more towards our goal Let's celebrate the harvest of the soul Written at the Saint Hill European Arts Festival 2004 Below is a poem referencing Cathy Bird by fellow artist Laury Dizengremel, shown here in the middle of the picture next to one of her sculpture students Clemency Scarfe-Beckett, who was also taught up to GCSE level by Cathy at Greenfields School (Forest Row, East Sussex). A Poem about Rodin for Cathy Roberts Bird (Left-Aligned) To have been taught by someone, who was taught by someone who was taught by Rodin is my explanation for the clay pieces that burst from my hands... To have been taught to teach, by my teacher (Martine) and you Cathy, by example, makes my students in turn produce those works of art that make you gasp, amazes them and gives another twist to the mystique of Rodin's legacy and our creative power to stand on our own feet yet be imbued by masters of yesterday - with pride. March 1995 - Laury Dizengremel

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