I listened to the podcast and enjoyed it:
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss Coleridge’s poem of a grim voyage in which a sailor shoots an albatross and is forced to tell the story of his crime forever.
More info, but I wanted to see the Dore Images. Here is one:
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (originally The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere) is the longest major poem by the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, written in 1797–98 and published in 1798 in the first edition of Lyrical Ballads. Some modern editions use a revised version printed in 1817 that featured a gloss. Along with other poems in Lyrical Ballads, it is often considered a signal shift to modern poetry and the beginning of British Romantic literature.
I like my little sketch.
Disturbing motive / reactive fear.
In a living thing something dies and something is being born all the time.
Here is the printable flyer for Theatre of Spontaneity 2021
Open evenings of Psychodrama in Christchurch
First Tuesday of every month. 6.30 to 9.00pm.
Come and participate in an evening of Psychodrama conducted by experienced group practitioners. Psychodrama is an active and enlivening method which aims to increase spontaneity, strengthen relationships and build community. We explore what emerges in the group on the stage and sometimes the events have a theme. Social or community issues may be to the fore, sometimes the event is more about personal or professional development.
The name Theatre of Spontaneity has its origins in Vienna, early last century, when Jacob Moreno, the founder of psychodrama, conducted theatre in this style.
The event has been happening regularly since February 2013. Usually between 10 and 15 people come. The evenings are conducted by qualified psychodrama directors
You are welcome, no experience necessary.
Please arrive by 6.15pm.
Quaker Meeting House, 217 Ferry Road, Christchurch.
Organised by the Canterbury/Westland branch of the Australian and Aotearoa New Zealand Psychodrama Association.
Browsing through old images I’ve made and picked out these as favourite, more or less figurative, ones.
May add more.
A gallery of images — virtually illegible!
Across the stony ridges, across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover, comes riding home again.
And well his stock-horse bears him, and light of heart is he,
And stoutly his old pack-horse is trotting by his knee.
Up Queensland way with cattle he travelled regions vast;
And many months have vanished since home-folk saw him last.
He hums a song of someone he hopes to marry soon;
And hobble-chains and camp-ware keep jingling to the tune.
Beyond the hazy dado against the lower skies,
And yon blue line of ranges the homestead station lies.
Thitherward the drover jogs through the lazy noon,
While hobble-chains and camp-ware keep jingling to a tune.
An hour has filled the heavens with storm-clouds inky black;
At times the lightning trickles around the drover’s track;
But Harry pushes onward, his horses’ strength he tries,
In hope to reach the river before the flood shall rise.
The thunder stealing o’er him goes rolling down the plain;
And sing on thirsty pastures in past the flashing rain.
And every creek and gully sends forth its trival flood,
The river runs with anger, all stained with yellow mud.
Now Harry speaks to Rover, the best dog on the plains,
And to his hardy horses, and strokes their shaggy manes;
“We’ve breasted bigger rivers when floods were at their height,
Nor shall this gutter stop us from getting home to-night!”
The thunder growls a warning, the blue fork lightnings streaks,
As the drover turns his horses to swim the fatal creek.
But, oh! the flood runs stronger than e’er it ran before;
The saddle-horse is failing, and only half-way o’er!
When flashes next the lightning, the flood’s grey breast is blank,
And a cattle dog and pack-horse are struggling up the bank.
But in the lonely homestead the girl shall wait in vain
He’ll never pass the stations, in charge of stock again.
The faithful dog a moment lies panting on the bank,
And then pluges through the current to where his master sank.
And round and round in circles he fights with failing strength,
Till, ripped by wilder waters, he fails and sinks at length.
O’er the flooded lowlands and slopes of sodden loam
The pack-horse struggles bravely, to take dumb tidings home.
And mud-stained, wet, and weary, he goes by rock and tree,
With flagon, chains and tinware are sounding eerily.
2020 AGM potluck flyer
**** Potluck Dinner ****
Tuesday 17 November, 7pm
Phillipstown Community Hub
39 Nursery Rd, Phillipstown
Join us for an informal gathering for a potluck dinner from 7pm. Regional AANZPA members, associate members and affiliates welcome Theatre of Spontaneity attendees, Psychodrama trainees, and others interested. This will follow our regional association AGM (6.30-7pm).