Literature Prose and Poetry

Bob Hill

bob.hill@southdevon.ac.uk

I'm a writer of prose poems and sudden fiction narratives, an active member of TAAG (Teignmouth Arts Advisory Group), a keen supporter of TRAIL (Trail Recycled Art in Landscape) and member of Friends of Eastcliff.

I've a working knowledge of the written and spoken word - having taught Creative Writing and acted as organiser of numerous poetry and prose events in London,Bristol, Cardiff, Penarth and latterly, Teignmouth and Torquay. I was co-founder of the Welsh Union of Writers, and the Bristol-based Real Live Poetry Group.

I'm a proven exponent of short-short fiction and the majority of my prose work has been described as sudden fiction. The texts deal with the fantastic nature of the ordinary and the everyday, and impart an exotic dream-like quality often overlaid with myth and traditional story-telling narrative. They're also very, very short.

In 2008, working with TRAIL, I developed an installation on Teignmouth sea front
(see http://www.trail.org.uk/08/stbobhill.htm) in collaboration with staff and students from Torquay Boys' and Girls' Grammar Schools, establishing a dialogue between Old English charms and C21^st narratives. In September, I co-organised the literature elements of Opening Out Teignmouth.

In the summer of 2009, my work with TRAIL directly engaged with the general public. Using Teignmouth promenade as a work base, I sought to produce the longest Exquisite Corpse narrative
(http://www.exquisitecorpse.com/definition/About.html) ever generated in the South west (probably). In October, I was curator for the nationalpoetryday celebrations in Teignbridge.

TRAIL 2010 has further partnerships informed by multimedia/cross-art forms, namely: a seafront extravaganza, two slightly odd podcasts (conjuring up ghosts and a soundscape of Teignmouth), a monograph on childhood memories and remembrance, and a work that explores Public & Private Space – Dates, Diaries, Recollections & Concealments (in other words, a celebration of the Mass Observation Society).

I'm a resourceful administrator with literacy and business skills gained through extensive experience in the Civil Service, reading English Literature at undergraduate level (University of Wales, Cardiff) and a postgraduate MPhil - on reticence in the poetry of Seamus Heaney - from the University of Bristol, and (now) through lecturing. My 'day job' involves teaching - in which I've a proven track record of over fifteen years successful tutoring on accredited courses for the Workers' Educational Association (Penarth), Coleg Morgannwg (Pontypridd), Coleg Glan Hafren (Cardiff) and latterly, Skills for Life work together with running IAG (Information, Advice & Guidance) sessions – these duties on behalf of South Devon College, Paignton in partnership with Devon & Cornwall Probation Service.

Creative Writing and Teignbridge

Great News for Writers and Writing in Torbay and Teignbridge

What? An Introduction to Creative Writing

Who? The tutor will be Teignmouth-based writer, Bob Hill

Where?WestlandsSchool, Westland Lane, Torquay,TQ1 3PE

When? Running five weeks from Wednesday, 13^th January, 7 – 9 pm

SouthDevonCollege is running a course in January 2010 that's an ideal opportunity for new writers to find their 'voice'. So, whether you're keen on poetry or scriptwriting, short stories or journalism, you'll be able to explore writing techniques in a nurturing and lively atmosphere designed to inspire confidence.

So, contact one of the following to receive more info – or enrol on the first night:

Dot Swann – 01803 316930 – dorothy.swann@southdevon.ac.uk

Bob Hill – bob.hill@southdevon.ac.uk

Literature & TRAIL - Archives

August 2009 in Teignmouth:

Bob Hill, and the General Public

Exquisite Corpse

A few short but useful notes

1) Exquisite Corpse or Surrealistic Consequences is a writing game consisting of folding paper so that people compose individually to produce a collective text, yet none of the participants will have any idea of the nature of the preceding contributions. It was given its name in the 1920s following the first sentence produced in this manner: 'The exquisite — corpse — shall drink — the young — wine.

2) This version of Exquisite Corpse starts with an extract of a poem, '7:7', written circa 1957 by the US writer Gary Snyder (from The Back Country:London, Fulcrum Press, 1966). Snyder and other Black Mountains Poets may confidently be called the earliest proponents of the Green Movement.

3) Lastly, I'd like to thank all those who agreed to contribute to this Teignmouthian Exquisite Corpse – however bemused they might have felt when I first approached them…

Bob Hill

Teignmouth, 090909

An Exquisite TRAIL 09 Corpse

forests are covered with mud and asbestos, the riverbeds sucked / up and cast into plates hung on melted-down oxides

mankind your bowels are as grinding and heavy as those which / forced leaves into coal, burned sand to obsidian; you draw up and / lead along water, your arm rises and falls, you break through things / as they are.

so it is that the moon lights a path that leads to the sound of distant rustles.Everything in moonlight becomes highlighted – filling the night with black and white trees

a shooting star shone bright in the night

as I sat gawping, waiting and wondering

what the afternoon was going to bring at sunny Teignmouth

we enjoy ourselves on pier and sea

the RNLI are the best for me

they save so many lives and make our seas safe

keep all clean and tidy so we can all enjoy the world we live in

the world is what we make of it

it is not a trial run – so live for today

what a lovely day

ice-cream, sea, sun, beach, boats, pier dance mat

days away, sun, sea, sand rain!

blue, blue sky, fluffy white clouds, people wandering arm-in-arm enjoying the seaside charm

40,000 little charms, all tucked inside a rustic barn

highlighting endangered animals

abstract thinking

creativity in the simplest form

polar bears not existing, not many tigers left in the world. Harsh, harsh world where people do not care about anyone else but themselves. Welcome to Planet Earth

I'm sorry about the mess but it's not my fault it's everybody else's

fault, but then isn't it always. A wonderful way of passing the blame, opting out if you like, - 'What me – as if I would', I can say without fear of any repercussions -

reminds me of what Paul writes in Romans 8:1: 'There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus'. What a wonderful encouragement and assurance this is!

my soul finds rest not in the rolling waves or speckled sunshine on midsummer waters, not in dappled skies in early autumn mornings or even illuminated evenings of my favourite sunsets but in the quiet place of bedroom solitude in the pages of real rest, the living world, the one through whom all things are made

climbing upwards towards a tree that hangs just out of reach – stretching the nerves to clutch it to me, as if it will provide a footpath away from too strong brightness

walk into the light and take a risk. Who knows what is out of sight

when there is a pause that ignites reflection and reconsideration: a leaning forward to gaze intently at that tiny blob on the horizon rocking in the ocean's swell

capturing small fragments of light

to the lives of visitors and local people in enhancing the local environment with the creativity

of the sculptures using recycled materials, capturing the imagination as there is a roar in the sky as 9 Red Arrows fly overhead highlighting the complete opposite of 'recycled' materials but equally providing a thing of beauty,

the sea lapping over the rocks, sun shining, people strolling watching the world go by

special memories of years gone by – of loved ones gone but not forgotten, of happy times spent here

childhood days spent rock-pooling and beach combing. Hours of sunshine – did it ever rain?

not caring about the rain – it's not miserable rain. Quality time with the children – learning and living. Enjoying everything we do – regardless

of the consequences to others or even ourselves. Think before you act not the other way round

a small amount of consideration from each and everyone could make a huge amount of difference to the wildlife and environment. So think before you dump –

even rubbish can be beautiful where the beauty of the inner self often takes patience getting to know the person – as water slowly polishes a river stone…

it's a gradual effect – the passage of time illuminating difference and togetherness

it's amazing how diverse artwork can be using rubbish and recyclable materials; rubbish into beauty is very appealing

the colours combined, mixed, clashed and jumped out from everywhere. Fabrics, ceramics, metal and a hotch-potch of other materials combined to form obtuse shapes, yet each had a strange appeal

hiding behind a façade overpowering with its pale, twisted presence

it looked to be ready to topple – subject only to fingertips held at either end that would gently push, making the structure crash; pull – making the structure ascend

we then pause to establish quietness

after minutes of waiting there is a distant rumble, a rumbling that grows into a rolling rumbling

underneath it was black, changing to grey in the instant before noon, clocks draped in grey

car driver stuck in traffic biting fingernails, children walking to the beach recite songs and sing to others

in the last second, we see there is a landscape beyond

a last second implies an end to time. But which end? Time has a start, that is known but does it go on forever, so to speak? Well, infinite or finite, time flies like an arrow but fruit flies like a banana.

Drosophila melanogaster, where art thou? So small and seemingly insignificant. Yet so useful in helping us understand and reflect on the intricacies of life

which is to be found – as we all know - in a bowl of Weetabix

the spoon that was inserted in the toaster by my brother all those years ago. At least we can speak about it now.

I'm so embarrassed by the Mr Blobby outfit. I don't know what I was thinking, but I guess that was the 1990s. What was worse than the outfit was the fact that it wasn't even a bad night!