Wal06his

- New Living Traditions -

This year's card design

As I was laying out this card I thought: Greeting card design is really, really stupid! The verse is always on the inside face, so If the picture and verse are linked you can never see them together! At least with a postcard, where it all started, you just turn it over instead of opening and closing. So this is the new and original Bradwan way of laying a card out so you can read and see at the same time. The outside of the card is exactly like the illustration. The verse is on the back of the outside and looks 'upside down' when folded, but when you open it it is above the picture.

This card returns to my old tradition of pen & ink drawing. The poem was started on a paper bag on the bus between the Malt Shovel and Barge & Barrel in Elland and the Three Pigeons and Pump Room in Halifax. on Friday 12th Feb. I then banged out a complete poem a few days later in an hour, but then fussed over it for days, agonising over lines and single words, something I usually never do. If you’re bothered there's a ‘history’ at www.bradwan.com .

I drew the illustrations on Saturday afternoon 18th Feb. I copied the oil well from a site about the Florence oil field, which is the second oldest in the USA. The church is the wonderful See St. Walburge’s in Preston (that is an English spelling).

First typed out version

The mark of 3 - 6 - 5 odd thrilling turns

An applauding(?) round filling the day

To mark the rises shows there's breath still spare

And enough of knowing to have a care

The dark of balance that oil still earns

In storming sound, stilling the way

A bark we prize, past the safe light's glare

Safe enough blowing for the sailor's dare

The spark of seasons that grilling burns

Or pausing ground with chilling lay

Yet lark to rise and a sowing pair

May give enough of growing, to heal the wear.

Fourth typed out version

The mark of 3 - 6 - 5 odd thrilling turns

An applauding round filling the day

To mark the rises shows there's breath still spare

Knowing enough to have a care

With enough free flowing to find the will

The dark of balance that oil still earns

In storming sound, stilling the way

A bark with prizes, past the safe light's glare

Blowing enough for the sailor's dare

Safe enough rowing for the planters drill

The spark of seasons often grilling burns

Or pausing ground with chilling lay

Yet if lark still rises with a sowing pair

Growing enough to heal the wear.

Gaining enough from mowing to keep the still.