Projects

Alun Lewis Centenary Projects

RufusMufasa  SWVLDO-CCFC-Patrick-Jones-3-May-11-29-150x1501

As part of the centenary celebrations for Alun Lewis, Patrick Jones and Rufus Mufasa led two cross artform workshops inspired by the work of the celebrated poet.

Born on 1 July 1915 in Cwmaman, Alun Lewis became the foremost  poet and prose writer of the Second World War.. Rooted in the South Wales valleys from his childhood to his later profession as teacher in Lewis School, Caerphilly, Lewis went on to travel the world during his military service in India and Burma during the Second World War. These experiences profoundly shaped his work, leading to his reputation as a great war writer of his time. He died during active service in 1944 at the age of 28.

Pupils at Lewis school and Cowbridge Comprehensive school explored Alun Lewis’ poetry and created their own pieces in response to his work – poetry from Cowbridge and musical pieces from Lewis school.

Please see below:

Rubble’s Toy (by Will and Jack)

There has always been rubble,

But it was far, far away;

In disastrous war and famine

And never, ever here.

0605 was caught in the rubble,

A victim of the blitz;

The factory lost a corner to bombing,

And a victim who never belonged.

0606 was caught in the rubble,

He fell for money not recovered,

His tourist owner fled from Sharm el Sheik,

Imperialist, futile conflict.

0607 was caught in the rubble,

He was with a unlikely family,

Although they could leave by car,

A swerve hit something potent.

0608 was caught in the rubble,

With a merchant ship carrying aids,

Mistaken for a battle ship floating adrift,

Bobbing softly through the orange waves.

0609 was caught in the rubble,

Nearly out of the danger zone;

A soldiers momento shot down at the last,

As the plane left the barran dessert.

0610 was not caught in the rubble,

That toy is here to tell;

His colour and past will decay unless

Another war comes today.

Holster (by Pheobe, Holly and Louis)

Close to your body,

You feel my deathly power,

Hidden behind the leather, old and decaying,

Hides my bloody trigger.

The war following at your waist

Waiting to take another life,

Every life, another drop of blood to fill me

Until your hands turn red.

The leather of my casing

Can’t hide what fate will come

The impure fashion clothes my poison

My skin too, bites the dust.

Sophisticated, slender, shiny, slade

Bullets, beautiful bullets

Hidden within my pouch

The weapon of the weapon

The war that holds us.

A lonely feather (by Callum, Ethan, Owen)

Elegant dancer

In the limitless sky

Even clouds fight for freedom

We are losing lives.

No escaping this powerfulness

Fixation on feathers, wishing weightlessness,

A loner, lack of floppiness

No worries or aspirations to adhere to

No devilish hoops to jump through

What seems to be absolute freedom

Leads to arrogance of men

Superiority and prowess

Doesn’t lead to absolute freedom

The politicians dream of.

Everlasting Flame  (by Locklan)

Earth to earth, bright light I beg for guidance,

Empty, alone, my spirit stands still, left with no horizons.

We’ve not got long for you shall melt soon,

As your tranquillity shall fade, and me just left with truth.

Ashes to ashes, I can’t help see, you are fading fast,

I can’t change your future, nor you, change my past.

For guidance, to me, you have left me none,

But your destined demise, has just begun.

Dust to dust, oh Lord above, help me see,

That the sorrow of mine was from memory.

You took my future from my past,

And laid it to rest for me, at last.

Your wax drowned out the fuse to your flame,

As if this was just a large sadistic game.

Up this late, through my eyes drowned in tears, I find,

Your flickering light was playing tricks on my tired mind.

Though stronger in forces, your tricks still riddled me,

But then again following your demise, I foresaw peace.

Before, your texture, was smooth as silk,

But now your texture is runny as milk.

I shall never forget the mind tricks that you played on me

And yet you still reminded me of my barren memory.

And given, yes, it was hard to handle,

The torturous trials of the malevolent candle.

Time (by Molly, Lilly, Jess)

Never stops, keeps going

Always ticking

Away in the background.

Counting down, bringing reality

Seconds minutes hours days

When will it end?

Never.

A reminder of the bombs

9/11, 7/7

Dates times people

Hanging over, intimidation, interegation, accusation

Long time no see

The past

Checking, counting the hours

Minutes seconds- lifetime.

Time leads. Years get shorter

Hyperactive, controlling, rush

Over

Never sleeps, never dreams

Stress, no choice, job to dp

Tick Tock

Will it stop?

Ending lives

Extra time to fight

Guns go off at night

No origin story

Evolves, developed

Time makes war.

War takes

Time.

Group piece.

Red trenches

Sad wire

Angry tank

Bloody leader.

Hellish battlegrounds

Dark attacks

Empty bodies

Dramatized gas.

Scarred sergeants

Blurry death

Sacrificial anger

Lifeless terrorists.

Everlasting war

Malicious borders

Futile tears

Pathetic politicians.