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Inspiring and empowering people
through creativity to explore, develop and grow

Writing Space [Peer-Led Group]

Writing Space is a creative peer-led support group for anyone who has some experience of writing and would like to meet with others in a friendly informal group to develop and share ideas. You don’t have to be a published writer! This group is fun and welcoming to all and is suitable for anyone that would like to develop their writing skills. Bath: Tuesdays 1 – 4pm.

This is not a drop-in group but if you are interested in becoming a member please contact: – 01761 438852
This page is a space for the participants to share their work.

All rights reserved. No piece of prose or poetry shared here may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the relevant author. For permission requests, write to Creativity Works [] in the first instance.

Added Wednesday 19th December 2018

The White Candle – Dee Hewitt

Candle candle, burning bright, as the daylight turns dark into night
A small bright flame lighting up a room,
Slowly becoming darker as the daylight fades away
This dear white candle, held upright safely in a shiny brass holder,
Lighting up just one more evening in a family room
As the family members are sitting together,
Enjoying passing on and sharing memories of their days
The white candle belongs to my dear Aunt Mabel, my mother’s sister.
The candle brings many happy memories for my aunt,
For it was a gift from her father (my grandfather),
On the occasion of her last birthday with her father.
She once told me while the candle burns she is able to feel his love for her – a very devoted daughter
White candle shines onward through time with precious memories,
Becoming brighter as memories reach each new day .

A Christmas Letter to Friends 2018 – 

Written by one of our Writing Space Members
It has been a year of challenges for me but there are also many highlights to look back on,  especially since I joined the Creative Writing Group last December and gained new inspiration from many like-minded friends.
Now as the holiday season approaches,  there will be an opportunity to spend the *Twelve Days of Christmas*  recalling the last 12 months and practising new ideas of Free-Writing and playing with words – just like mind-mapping or the Map of Days.  It will also be time to catch up on reading, as books are always top of my list to Father Christmas!  However,  as an avid bookworm, it would be difficult for me to pick out a favourite choice this year or even a top ten!  (I remember Clive saying he’d never seen so many books in one small flat)  But although I’ve tried to *declutter* once I’ve read a book, so many stories are like hidden treasures that I can enjoy over again – like meeting old friends or sitting in a comfy chair by the fire in your worn-out slippers.
Perhaps I will start with *A Christmas Carol*  and remember my own three ghosts – *Recollections of the Past* – *Observations of the Present* – and *Reflections on the Christmas Yet to Come*.
But unlike Scrooge,  I hope that everyone will have time to enjoy the season of goodwill in whatever way they choose.
From The Old Fossil of Radstock

Added Thursday 18th October 2018
Two poems inspired by the church of ‘St. Michael’s Without’ where Writing Space met every week, in the crypt, until July of this year.  They were first published in the church newsletter (January 2018). We’re moving to a new (sunnier) meeting space also in central Bath. But we’re very grateful for the hospitality of St. Michael’s and the good sessions we enjoyed there. We also honour our friend Clive Haynes who was a long-time member of the group and is much missed.

Towering Spire by Clive Haynes, Writing Space participant
(d. March 2018, RIP)
Towering steeple still prominent on modern streets
Imposing triangular façade bearing down
on medieval coaching house and contemporary shops
Ancient site of worship and charity
where modern and ancient minds and bellies
are comforted and nourished.
The crypt now empty of the cherished dead
is now a refuge of counselling and creativity.
All public buildings must reinvent themselves
to survive in the modern world.

Writers without walls by Sara Firman, Writing Space Volunteer Facilitator
Four-times built at a fork in the road,
what was without-the-walls now lives
at the heart of a city of daring dreams,
hot clouds rising from hidden streams.
How strange that it is here we meet,
held between buttresses of bones.
Our pens move swift as spears to pierce
each demon dragon, dark and fierce.
Stone dust stirred up by silent wings
beats out our warriors’ endless songs,
of sickness healed and fires put out,
a towering shield from bombs of doubt.
Whatever comes, through mighty word
we stand as guardians at this gate.
We know the stairs that lead us down,
we know the ways to shelter fate.

Added Thursday 18th October 2018

‘Good morningSun!’ by DH (© 2018)

As we rise from sleep early morning such a pleasure to see your bright face, along with the cheerful sound of the birds singing their chorus as they rise to your bright rays of warmth stretching across the gardens of now bright flowers and green grass.

‘What do you find, on first waking to bring us the first light of our day to be so bright and warm about?’

‘Who starts your day off for you in the truly special way you start our days for us?’ It’s always a mystery for me.

‘How do you stay bright and warm for so long a stretch of our day time?’ Before even you have to find rest and go off to sleep in the setting of your light, in the special warm colours you find to set for the night.

Clouds can sometimes appear to cover your glow, even causing water to flow, then a little while later you glow again, your warmth drying up the wetness that has fallen, for another time of brightness and warmth for all to enjoy!

The rainbow in the morning gives all fair warning of a wet day to follow, maybe!

Rainbow, bright shining many colours in the morning. Then a little time on, along comes cloud which gives you a shower to make the rainbow even brighter. Fair weather then appears as the clouds disappear.

Fair warning of more sun later on maybe.

Added Wednesday 4th July 2018

The Mask by GA (© 2018)

I have a mask on my wall. It’s a very well made one, one my mother made for me. It’s like me, but a little better… or a lot better even. It’s what she always wanted me to be. And for a while, me and my mask were indistinguishable.

I don’t know when it happened, when it started happening, but one day I didn’t match the mask any more. And nobody liked my face, they much preferred the mask. So I learned to wear the mask a lot more, and hoped my face would look like it. It never did.

If anything my face became so much more different than the mask that people hated it when I took it off. Whether it was to a close friend, a lover, someone who wanted to help me… none of them liked me with the mask off. They kept saying I could take it off, but I know how they all want me to wear it.

It wouldn’t be a problem if the mask didn’t hurt to wear. The straps are tight and bite into me and I have to take it off or I’ll start to hurt. And if I try and keep it going, then my head hurts all the more, and sometimes the straps fall off themselves. I can’t put it back on straight away, and everyone can see my face and they hate it. But there’s nothing I can do. It takes a few days to fix the straps of the mask and in that time I can’t wear it.

So I take the mask off in private, away from anyone who can see my face, and some people have never seen my face. They think the mask is truly me – so well made it is. And when it falls off they’re all the more horrified and shun me all the harder, making me want to wear the mask more. And it hurts and hurts and hurts.

“Be yourself!” they say. By which they mean look like the mask. Nobody wants to see my face. Even those who are mask specialists, or want to help change my face always says the same thing. The mask is how I should look. So now I’m even more afraid that the straps will break. It’s all I can think of, I can barely focus on what the mask looks like or how I do. I just need to know it won’t slip.

Added Wednesday June 13th 2018
Cup, a letter to an object by Mike.
Dear Cup,

As I promised in our surprise meeting in the Café a few weeks ago, here is some news about me and some that you might find interesting. I realise this might come as a shock to you so I am writing this slowly as I know you can’t read fast. I hope you can handle it.

Yes, we cups are in constant use and sometimes treated as mugs. I enclose a mugshot of our meeting for you. I was reading an article in a newspaper recently from one who said he was a mug in the Government. He reminded me that we cups can have very high profile jobs in Parliament as everyone in the Commons has to address the Sbeaker.

We try to be independent but we usually have to take a lot of sauce from that plate under us.

During our meeting, you may recall that I had to go to the Gents and saw another one there. I said I Cup……I see you pee.

While filling me with hot water, I heard my owner telling his friend that he may send me to a car boot sale. Then he dropped a paper bag in me. He was only teasing. He also remarked that he went to the Doctor complaining that whenever he drinks a cup of tea, his eye hurts. Doctor was concerned and then brought him another cup and asked him to drink. Doctor then realised the problem and told him to take the spoon out. Those things can really give me a headache sometimes. I was speaking to one the other day and told me he suffered from spoonerisms e.g. chish and fips.

I know another cup who was illegally brought into this country by smugglers. Some of us are used to steal money from little old ladies.

Thankfully we can only be used for small drinks and not used in pubs or clubs as then we would really get big headed.

Some of us can be very well spoken when we are filled with Expresso.

Sometimes we can look very boring so I see many of my friends with those stupid slogans on them. Occasionally I’m a mug for a Creative Writing Group.

Did you know that there are songs about us? Yes, Lionel Ritchie had a hit with Hello, is it tea you’re looking for?

Some of us can get a bad name. Sometimes mugs are only for drink drivers.

Soon, all the world’s footballers will be playing for a World Cup. Nothing like a cup. We are the only ones that England have got a chance of.

Now I expect I have given you enough information about ourselves that you probably didn’t realise. You are probably overflowing.

Please consider what I have told you, and maybe we can meet again as our owners will have to bring us now instead of using those pathetic paper versions. Can’t beat a good quality pottery mug, though some do and then we feel absolutely shattered………….. all over the floor.

Take care,

All rights reserved. No piece of prose or poetry shared here may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the relevant author. For permission requests, write to Creativity Works [] in the first instance.

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