Tag Archives: Karin Heyer

‘Fates and Forces’ Wave 4/4: Transformations Poems (Book 13)

26 Mar

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 13

.Featuring:

Karin Heyer and Eleanor Perry

.

Hecuba’s Pain

by Karin Heyer

The last king of Troy weeps
aged, war-worn,
mourning many sons and daughters,
King Priam weary, weary
of protracted war,
killing hope and potential.
Captured are Troy’s lofty dreams,
the fate of Troy sealed,
guaranteed its fall…

On both sides in a war
mothers mourn.
No way to heal her hurt,
unhinged Hecuba, raging lioness
prowls the road:
howling, haunted in her loss
of all
her children!
Unable to comprehend
the tragedy of ceaseless murder
and sacrifice,
her mind gives way,
forever.

.

the colour of a river

by Eleanor Perry

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the colour of a river by Eleanor Perry

 

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You can find more about Eleanor here:

 http://themusicofbreakages.wordpress.com/

http://www.zonepoetrymagazine.com/

https://twitter.com/nellperry

 

Karin, as yet, does not have a website. However you can contact her via ArtiPeeps.

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Tomorrow we’ll be posting out the second instalment of our ‘Hot Potato’ Initiative. 6 writers creating 1 short story over 12 weeks. If you missed out on the first instalment by Steve Harris you can see it here.
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As ever, thank you for your interest.
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‘Greed and Sorrow’ Swipe 2/5: Transformations Poems (Book 11)

16 Jan

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 11

.Featuring:

 Kate Garrett and Karin Heyer

_

This guy, Midas

by Kate Garrett

pays two hundred quid
for each of his haircuts –
regular, often,
I could draw out
a calendar by them –
but the real value lies
in the secrets he wants me
to keep.

He sets up businesses.
For example: one sells football
shirts for handbag-sized dogs,
one offers extendable
squeegees. No one knows
how he does it.
It’s like everything he touches
turns to gold.

But I know all about it, and his little
“problem”. He talks
too much, when he says
he likes the feeling
of my fingers
massaging his scalp,
my smooth palms
brushing his ears,
and relaxes back into a loose tongue.

Maybe I’ve never told
a living soul outright,
but some folks
don’t know I’m a hairdresser.
Some people
only know me from that grimy
hole in the wall, the one
with the dim-lit bar downstairs,
where I sometimes sing Midas’s song,

tell truths disguised as cautionary ballads
about the corruption of men,
my saxophonist blowing
a tune across his reed,
while the slit
in my skirt and the curve
of my lashes
keeps them drinking.

.

The Love of Gold

by Karin Heyer

The king of Phrygia, Midas,
strolled in his wonderful rose-garden,
just as the flock of stars on high
had faded away.

His thoughts weaving, weaving, weaving

the story of aged Silenus’ return,
their feasting for ten days
and nights on end.

Dionysus, in praise of Midas’ revelry,
did ask what Midas might desire
for a reward…
Without hesitance or reflection
Midas carelessly replied:
‘Grant whatever my person touches
be turned to yellow gold.’
Of all the wishes he could have,
he foolishly chose that! Now,
all manner of things he touched
turned into hard, painful gold!
The water and wine he drank,
the food he ate,
bread and meat,
grew hard as stone!
He learned to fear the stricture of gold
and begged the god for release.
He was told to go down to the river
to heal his soul
and wash away the power of gold,
of gold.
At once he was freed
of the touch of gold,
yet the sands of the river Pactolus
gleam brightly still to this day.

 

You can find more about Kate here:

Kate Garrett

http://www.kategarrettwrites.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/kate_garrett

Karin, as yet, does not have a website, neither is she on Twitter, but you can contact her via @ArtiPeeps or through the contact form on the What’s On page.

 

 

‘Fragments of Inheritance’ by Karin Heyer (Fragment 3, FreeSpace #3)

17 Dec

Fragments

.

‘Whatever else it is autobiography is not non-fiction’

(Timothy Dow Adams, Modern Fiction Studies, 40)

Welcome to Karin’s last FreeSpace on ArtiPeeps  in which she has been exploring the relationship between autobiography and fiction through her own autobiographical story ‘Fragments of Inheritance’. Within her three slots on ArtiPeeps she has offered up, in sequence, a part of her story along with an audio reflection of her response to the particular fragment that we have featured. This week it’s Fragment 3 and the concluding part of her story. Karin lived through a very particular part of European history (WWII) and her work engages with very significant subject matter that is universally meaningful and individually personal. We hope you enjoy Karin’s last exploration.

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Fragments of Inheritance

Fragment 3

.

**

She needed distraction from her thoughts. She chose to go to the City of Ely and visit Ely Cathedral. Along the winding road to this ancient place, suddenly, this magical building rises out of the flat landscape on the right-hand side and after a while the road bends and then strangely the cathedral appears to be on the other side of the road!!! There she is, Ely Cathedral, story of survival, beautiful and wise. She enters with a serious heart, it is Remembrance Day. She walks to the Octagon, turns left into the heart of the place reaching the ‘Showcases of Remembrance’, where on this day the letter ‘M’ mourns the lives of soldiers who lost their lives in WW2.

.
She lights a candle and remembers them.

.

living for the evidence of remembrance 1995
mourning: the dead
madness of persecution
lunacy of war
the irreparable destruction of children in war
disrespect for the preciousness of human
life of all kind
forgive or not forgive
but tell your story of that dark time
for the sake of time to come.

.

.

.

.

 You can find Fragment 1 here and Fragment 2 here

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Biography

I was born on the 4th of November 1937, just one day before Gun-powder Day! So, I celebrated my entrance with a BANG, yet far away from England then, in fact, in Leipzig, Germany. After the end of the Second World War, Leipzig in Saxony became part of East-Germany, which I left, illegally, in 1953. My family and I settled in West-Berlin, where I went to High-School, when finished there I left Berlin for Cambridge, England. I was a student of English for a while, took a BA Honours Degree in European Thought and Literature and English History at Anglia Polytechnic University, where I also took a MA in Women’s Studies with a Dissertation on German History. I became a teacher of the German Language,Literature and History during my working life. I have now retired from teaching and find myself writing, reading and enjoying life to the full.

As yet Karin does not have a website, but you can make contact with Karin via ArtiPeeps through the comment box on this post or contact form on the ‘What’s On’ Page.

.

* FreeSpace offers any creative or group from any discipline  3 post slots on ArtiPeeps which can be taken in sequence or in a cluster for showcasing, self-expression or projects (encouraged). If you are interested in taking up a FreeSpace slot in our next run of work please do get in contact via the comment box or contact form on the What’s On Page  You’d be welcomed.

‘Fragments of Inheritance’ by Karin Heyer (Fragment 2, FreeSpace #2)

11 Dec

Fragments

.

‘Whatever else it is autobiography is not non-fiction’

(Timothy Dow Adams, Modern Fiction Studies, 40)

Welcome to Karin’s second  FreeSpace on ArtiPeeps  in which she is going to be exploring the relationship between autobiography and fiction through her own autobiographical story ‘Fragments of Inheritance’. Within her three slots on ArtiPeeps she will be offering up, in sequence, a part of her story along with an audio reflection of her response to the particular fragment that we have featured. This week it’s Fragment 2. Karin lived through a very particular part of European history (WWII) and her work engages with very significant subject matter that is universally meaningful and individually personal. We hope you enjoy Karin’s exploration.

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Fragments of Inheritance

Fragment 2

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Now she returned to Leipzig after an absence of 34 years. She is on her way to visit a friend to whom she only had written or sent parcels at Christmas-time, because that was all she could do. The car turned a corner, here she was: Karl-Liebknecht-Srasse, 91, Leipzig, Germany, we are one country again. One country. East-Germany had seized to exist, but the houses and the ruins told a different story. Hitler’s legacy was still visible here and she recalled the horrors of war, the Holocaust, the destruction of men, women and children of all races, beliefs and talents, whose lives she mourned.

This was not a country of which she could be proud.

She greeted her friend with a full heart. She talked, but she was burning to see the centre of the city again. She wanted to discover her childhood at will. She wanted to meet the long-buried other. She walked along the streets, where she knew she had experienced this architecture before, saw the trams rattling along, ‘kling’, ‘kling’. She does not take a tram, she savours the walk, she fathoms the atmosphere, slowly reaching the centre of her birthplace. She stands bemused on the Karl-Marx-Platz, the clock is on the hour, sombre bells suddenly sound, hit her ear: the bell-ringers strike the hour. Back, back, backwards I go. I stood here before! I have heard these bells long ago. Yes, when I was little, just seven years old, 1944. I remember this song, this melody of bells. I glide backwards into my past. It was war then, when peoples purple blood burst, bells weep, where she learned the meaning of ‘Angst’.

And there she was once again amidst a familiar sound-scape and heavy inheritance, facing her fears still living and breathing in the Now, still vivid, visceral…

…and all the memories and circumstance melted through once again…

Cellars of Fear

This 4. December 1944, NIGHT, sounds of sirens, get the children, house shaking, lights fade, people running into cellars, trying to save their lives.

I choke because of smoke in the cellar, the cellar an awesome place, huge pipes run through it, modern technology – a central heating system, it could burst.

It is utter darkness, will I get out of this cauldron of misery seven years old, having lost a just war against Hitler when I was born in 1937. Evil starting under the guise of progress in 1939.

I am still speechless now in 1995, thinking of cruelty, the holocaust, suffering that need not be.

My memories of war are horrific: stifling smoke in the cellar, my granny-aged, my baby-sister in pram not conceiving this lunacy or innocence conceiving lunacy, my mother trying to rescue some possessions from our home above burning. An old man – not fit for fighting in the war came to our cellar. He took me into his arms, carried me covered with a wet sack through the burning streets of Leipzig. All streets around us burning houses, full of lives trying to survive. Flying burning beams fell beside our distracted heads seeking safety in a street blocks away which did not burn yet. No thought of my mother, sister, grandmother, just being saved for some saner place in this burning inferno. My mother, baby-sister, grandmother were saved the same way.

All I can remember are cellars of fear, but escaping into what? What kind of life could there be after that.

.
Yes, what life? This burning inferno was deeply buried into her subconscious. But now she must live forwards. A sun-beam struck her, today there was a blue, kind sky above her, the dominant sky of the Fens of East-Anglia, where she now lived.

.

.

Biography

I was born on the 4th of November 1937, just one day before Gun-powder Day! So, I celebrated my entrance with a BANG, yet far away from England then, in fact, in Leipzig, Germany. After the end of the Second World War, Leipzig in Saxony became part of East-Germany, which I left, illegally, in 1953. My family and I settled in West-Berlin, where I went to High-School, when finished there I left Berlin for Cambridge, England. I was a student of English for a while, took a BA Honours Degree in European Thought and Literature and English History at Anglia Polytechnic University, where I also took a MA in Women’s Studies with a Dissertation on German History. I became a teacher of the German Language,Literature and History during my working life. I have now retired from teaching and find myself writing, reading and enjoying life to the full.

As yet Karin does not have a website, but you can make contact with Karin via ArtiPeeps through the comment box on this post or contact form on the ‘What’s On’ Page.

.

Karin will be returning with Fragment 3 of ‘Fragments of Inheritance’ on Tuesday 17th December.

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* FreeSpace offers any creative or group from any discipline  3 post slots on ArtiPeeps which can be taken in sequence or in a cluster for showcasing, self-expression or projects (encouraged). If you are interested in taking up a FreeSpace slot in our next run of work please do get in contact via the comment box or contact form on the What’s On Page  You’d be welcomed.

‘Fragments of Inheritance’ by Karin Heyer (Fragment 1, FreeSpace #1)

4 Dec

Fragments

.

‘Whatever else it is autobiography is not non-fiction’

(Timothy Dow Adams, Modern Fiction Studies, 40)

Welcome to Karin’s first FreeSpace on ArtiPeeps  in which she is going to be exploring the relationship between autobiography and fiction through her own autobiographical story ‘Fragments of Inheritance’. Within her three slots on ArtiPeeps she will be offering up, in sequence, a part of her story along with an audio reflection of her response to the particular fragment that we have featured. Karin lived through a very particular part of European history (WWII) and her work engages with very significant subject matter that is universally meaningful and individually personal. We hope you enjoy Karin’s exploration.

.

Fragments of Inheritance

Fragment 1

.

‘standing in the shadow of Hitler

born 1937

condemned 1939, just two years old

attempting redemption 1983

living for the evidence of remembrance 1995′

.

She was born with a heavy inheritance. She felt her moon-baked icy heart wanting to melt the shock of recognition of deeds done between 1939 – 1945. That scar rested upon her. This bloody war weighed on her creating a violent hatred of war within her heart. This in turn nurtured a deep love of peace, and fueled her need to work for reconciliation between the two nations she most cherished, England and Germany.

Now, she lives in England.

It was a splendid, warm early spring morning when she looked around her sun-lit room, a milky way of memories rushing through her: her books standing upright as a witness of times gone by, like friends in certain hours of need; a still candle of remembrance burning; a piece of rock , insignificant to look at, but it is a tiny part of ‘The Berlin Wall’ coming down in 1989, a precious symbol of an irrepressible need for freedom. This forceful voice of resistance still echoed in her mind. ‘ Totalitarianism can only be defeated if many people unite and fight against it.’ The word-call still had meaning.

Much courage rushed through Europe and Germany on that day she never thought she would ever see. The 9th November 1989. Freedom had triumphed, ‘The Wall’ had fallen. The Berlin-Wall was a sight of joy. She witnessed the coming together of people who had been visibly forced apart for 28 years. These amazing days had an almost dream-like quality.

She suddenly believes in miracles! Leipzig, too, where she was born, had become an active instrument in the struggle for freedom. The ‘Monday Demonstrations’, which had began in September continue. The door of the ‘Nikolai Church’ long open to the people of Leipzig before the heated autumn days of 1989 had become the symbol for peaceful gathering of men and women. This House of God was: open for all After many years of oppression it was possible to say: we want free elections; we are the instruments of peace; we are standing here; down with the Stasi; we are the people; the ‘Wall’ must go. It was in Leipzig where history was turned up-side down. And it all happened peacefully. ‘I write and think as a woman against war, I write and think as a woman for peace’. The word-call still had meaning.

Yes, she remembered it all so well, these heady days. She was now able to return to the place where she was born without visas or other difficulties.

**

She is now sitting in a car moving forwards, being driven from a small town, Pottenstein in West-Germany, to Leipzig in the former East-Germany. The landscape near the industrial town Karl-Marx-Stadt, now Chemnitz again was grey, the fields with their products are covered by a faint, shadowy substance, which came from factories, where no concerns for the environment reigned. The smell of the ‘Trabi’, with its two-stroke engine hung in the air, but no Stasidogs were barking. She could not believe that this was real, but it was! There grew an awareness of time having stood still, arrested under a regime that thousands of people had fled from in the hope of finding a better life, like she had done. As a young girl she had left Leipzig illegally from East-Germany to West-Berlin, and later, moved on for England, off to Cambridge.

.

.

Biography

I was born on the 4th of November 1937, just one day before Gun-powder Day! So, I celebrated my entrance with a BANG, yet far away from England then, in fact, in Leipzig, Germany. After the end of the Second World War, Leipzig in Saxony became part of East-Germany, which I left, illegally, in 1953. My family and I settled in West-Berlin, where I went to High-School, when finished there I left Berlin for Cambridge, England. I was a student of English for a while, took a BA Honours Degree in European Thought and Literature and English History at Anglia Polytechnic University, where I also took a MA in Women’s Studies with a Dissertation on German History. I became a teacher of the German Language,Literature and History during my working life. I have now retired from teaching and find myself writing, reading and enjoying life to the full.

As yet Karin does not have a website, but you can make contact with Karin via ArtiPeeps through the comment box on this post or contact form on the ‘What’s On’ Page.

.

Karin will be returning with Fragment 2 of ‘Fragments of Inheritance on Thursday 12th December.

* FreeSpace offers any creative or group from any discipline  3 post slots on ArtiPeeps which can be taken in sequence or in a cluster for showcasing, self-expression or projects (encouraged). If you are interested in taking up a FreeSpace slot in our next run of work please do get in contact via the comment box or contact form on the What’s On Page  You’d be welcomed.

‘Morning Stars and Flames of Hate’ Flicker 3/3: Transformations Poems (Book 8)

29 Oct

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 8

.Featuring:

Nat Hall and Karin Heyer

_

<<I’m looking at the big sky now>> Kate Bush

de cire et de plumes

(of feathers & wax)

by Nat Hall

.

I am feathers, wax, bones and skin.

.

you gave me wings to lift and fly, follow high path,

reach to the clouds, stardust & sun;

.

from derision to desire,

you warned me from fusion & flames;

.

through hail & stones,

I pushed limits of thin blue line,

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angels still speak of my first flight,

I look a lone swift in your eyes – or a raven, lord of proud land;

.

I have no regret or complex,

.

from this altitude, a new world –

am still alive, scarred & crossboned, head over heels above islands.

.

© Nat Hall 2013

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Icarus Transformed

by Karin Heyer

.

When Daedalus defies the laws of nature,

weaving, weaving together feathers small and large,

he longs to leave Crete, his exile,

he longs to fly home and gain the freedom of a gracious, unfettered bird.

He employs the laws of science and his power of imagining,

weaving, weaving an intricate pattern from tiniest feathers to large, bound by wax at strategic points.

He created two vibrant, novel wings and flew and hovered,

watched by his son Icarus.

Full of play Icarus tried the invention,

‘Beware the wax’ warned the father.

‘Fear the heat.’

‘Go the middle way’.

But he came too close to the blazing sun;

Icarus drowned in deep blue waters beneath.

With a broken heart the father buried his son on the island,

still named Icaria.

 —

 

But I-

now flying-

speeding in strongly moulded metal,

a fuel, turbine engine jet, propelling me along way up in the sky,

see Stockholm below me.

Through the plane’s window, golden beams of sunshine,

resting on white, tufty clouds emerge-

a landscape of fluffy mountains

supported by a blue, translucent mist.

 —

 

Later, I am bound safely earthward,

soon on solid ground

closing a sunlit day,

and celebrating another conquest of science.

 

.

You can find more about Nat and Karin here:

Nat Hall

http://nordicblackbird.weebly.com/index.html

https://twitter.com/nordicblackbird

.

Karin, as yet has no website, but you can contact her via ArtiPeeps.

 

 

 

 

‘Struggle and Treachery’ Action 4/4: Transformations Poems (Book 7)

11 Oct

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 7

 

.Featuring:

Nat Hall, James Knight and Karin Heyer

_

 

Medea’s Dream

by Nat Hall

.
Face without eyes.
chère toison d’or, cire ou de plomb*,
from dragon’s clutch,
protect my
heart.

.
Boy without face.

.
From the chariot drawn by the great fire breathers,
I shall not flee from fleece of love,
crush my own genes, or
drink from
tantalising cups…

.
Eyes without heart.

.
From sympathy to illusion,
don’t turn that girl
into a witch,
I shall not
bleed
or
betray you.

.
Heart without face,
I’ve lost my way across the sea,
where women weave
from handspun
waves,
kelp
and lust tides,
and find solace, here,
in West sky, as twilight awakes
Arcturus, space Argonaut among Perseids.

.
Face without boy.

.
This is where the shadows come to play**,
now let me enjoy meteors.

.
Nat Hall 2013

.
*) dear golden, wax or fleece of lead
**) from Somewhere in Between, Kate Bush, Aerial (2005) that accompanied this piece

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Myrmidon*

by James Knight

.

Soil-spawned men

Murmuring

In the unreal light

 .

It’s cold

 ..

Imagine looking down

On the crowds agitating

Across Waterloo Bridge

.

An insect has a head,

An abdomen,

A thorax

Six legs

 .

Male ants and queens

Have wings,

Fly incompetently

.

One day a year

They broil in their thousands

On my lawn

 .

Imagine

All those people

Scurrying around London

Imagine

They’ve lost their humanity

To mindless endeavour

 .

Now imagine you’re somehow different

 .

Your life made up of a million minute Tasks

.

Medea

by James Knight

 .

Coiled

in the winter

of her womb,

 .

a nightmare

awaits the warmth

of a bitter spring

.

.

Pointed Horns

by Karin Heyer

 .

Then, many times the moon

had brought together

the points of her horns

To show her splendid, clear, completed form.

A fearful pestilence hit my people

lassitude struck them to the pillaged ground.

Burning skin and panting breath plagued

their polluted bodies and foaming lips.

Screaming, dying children women and men:

Helpless, abandoned to the forces of hell.

What images, what fear.

A cruel fate hit men and land.

No-one knew whence it came.

.. 

And now transform this image:

News-flash, August 2013, Syria,

an inflicted, fearful pestilence

struck its people

shown to the world

no-one knew whence it came.

But they did know and drew a red line

.

.

*= a poem which has been chosen for our Transformations art and poetry exhibition in September 2014 at Hanse House, Norfolk

__________

You can find more about Nat, James and Karin here:

Nat Hall:

http://nordicblackbird.weebly.com/index.html

https://twitter.com/nordicblackbird

James Knight:

http://thebirdking.com/

https://twitter.com/badbadpoet

Karin, as yet, does not have a website

 

 

 

 

 

 

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