<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601013370638033549</id><updated>2011-07-31T09:34:26.178+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bronte Parsonage Women's Writing</title><subtitle type='html'>"We did not like to declare ourselves women because...we had a vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with prejudice" Charlotte Bronte, 1850

The Bronte Parsonage Museum in Haworth West Yorkshire, with support from Arts Council England, is running a series of projects dedicated to celebrating women's writing in all its forms. Details will be posted on this blog as they happen...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jenna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11346581178556511720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601013370638033549.post-2241639770078358049</id><published>2009-10-30T09:57:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-10-30T10:02:15.764Z</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Day poems</title><content type='html'>This poem uses phrases and lines written by visitors at the Bronte Parsonage Museum to celebrate National Poetry Day 2009, based on words chosen from Emily Bronte’s &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wuthering Heights&lt;/span&gt;. One or two of the phrases have been lightly edited. My thanks to everyone who participated - Katrina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Found Poem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a stone-dark churchyard,&lt;br /&gt;from this humiliation window,&lt;br /&gt;the moors sobbed,&lt;br /&gt;the devil struck and laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heathcliff kisses Cathy,&lt;br /&gt;who is the servant or master?&lt;br /&gt;Her mute gaze is mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;master, stagger my love&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain and snow kisses your face,&lt;br /&gt;my heart is willingly the servant.&lt;br /&gt;Small dream, dare to dream,&lt;br /&gt;let good hearts hope:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pocket my heaven,&lt;br /&gt;my key is love and light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katrina Naomi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601013370638033549-2241639770078358049?l=declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/feeds/2241639770078358049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/10/poetry-day-poems_30.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/2241639770078358049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/2241639770078358049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/10/poetry-day-poems_30.html' title='Poetry Day poems'/><author><name>Jenna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11346581178556511720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601013370638033549.post-7932728835827300191</id><published>2009-10-10T12:20:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T12:31:45.513+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Katrina Naomi and National Poetry Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7nB_zhKdXEs/StBunL6i2mI/AAAAAAAAAAc/hVYFk23fnSc/s1600-h/Katrina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7nB_zhKdXEs/StBunL6i2mI/AAAAAAAAAAc/hVYFk23fnSc/s320/Katrina.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390930373454781026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Parsonage is very delighted to welcome Katrina Naomi as our first Writer in Residence. She will be visiting the museum over the next few months and working with the collections, staff, visitors and community groups to create her own new work in response to the Parsonage but also to inspire others in different ways to start writing. Her first event takes place at the museum today, where she is inviting visitors to follow a poetry trail in the museum and write responses to questions along the route. In the exhibition room, visitors are invited to join in some 'Bronte fridge magnet poetry' - words taken from Wuthering Heights are turned in to new abstract lines, as silly or serious as people wish...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those of you who joined in today, thank you, and you'll be able to follow the progress of Katrina's residency on this site, and perhaps see some of your own lines take shape in her poetry too! Some of the lines from the day will be posted up soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About Katrina:&lt;br /&gt;Katrina Naomi is originally from Margate and now lives in London. Her first full collection, The Girl With the Cactus Handshake, will be published in October 2009. She won the 2008 Templar Poetry Competition and her pamphlet Lunch at the Elephant and Castle was published later that year. She has received an Arts Council England writer's award and a Hawthornden Fellowship, and has an MA in Creative and Life Writing from Goldsmiths. Katrina is also a lecturer in creative writing for the Open University.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601013370638033549-7932728835827300191?l=declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/feeds/7932728835827300191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/10/katrina-naomi-and-national-poetry-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/7932728835827300191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/7932728835827300191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/10/katrina-naomi-and-national-poetry-day.html' title='Katrina Naomi and National Poetry Day'/><author><name>Jenna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11346581178556511720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7nB_zhKdXEs/StBunL6i2mI/AAAAAAAAAAc/hVYFk23fnSc/s72-c/Katrina.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601013370638033549.post-3438419145105751661</id><published>2009-08-24T12:11:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T12:39:43.344+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Day - The Parsonage 'Up Close'</title><content type='html'>Poets Jane Commane and Char March ran a poetry day at the museum on Friday 21 August, capturing poetic responses from a wide range of visitors. On arrival at the museum, visitors were given a poetry pack with prompts for each of the various rooms and a magnifying glass with which they could investigate forgotten areas of the Parsonage, looking for marks in the building's fabric or traces left by it's inhabitants. Jane and Char then worked with visitors to record some of these observations and work them into new poems at the end of the day. They also helped visitors to create their own Bronte-style little books filled with memories of their visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jane and Char are still working on their poems, but these are just a couple of their responses, inspired by comments from the public,  at the end of a vibrant and busy day at the museum:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Everything so small -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;         rooms alone, piano playing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;red revealed under treacly floorboards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;         red with blue in decadent needlework&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(yet very plain indeed).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So small these beds -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          him, her, feet, figures and those hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;leaving bobbin and thread and china with tea gone cold,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          instead cracking the spine of a journal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;beige paper's sparkle for beyond.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So small this practiced hand -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;         this ink echo, though it spills out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for the expanse of the moors beyond&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          heroic travels for the islanders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;in a chest-of-drawers ship on rag-rug seas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So small these rooms -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        and modest enough for the imaginings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;cast into the heather's lonesome stretch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        beyond the wallpaper's blooms,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;candle-lit, dancing up and down the walls,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and so small these -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        the spectacles and needlework&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when lost out on the moors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        and these many eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and those two sets of eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Everything so small -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        but the vastness of the echo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sings in the whispers of rain and wind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; - Jane Commane -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This Home is a Well-Worn Book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Covers creased with handgrime,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;soot, dog-hair - corners&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;turned down lovingly. That familiar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;creak on the stair, turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;of the clock's key, slide&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;of the sash to shut out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the owl-talk, close smoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and that call from the moor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Char March -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weren't their lives all about death?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Well, that graveyard's a spit from the window&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(poor Tabby has only moved over the wall),&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;         so it lived within, around, about,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;         a funny sort of neighbour with a habit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        of intruding often and uninvited,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                 making themselves at home, taking a chill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                 off the fire, in the bed, taking their fill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                 in the first fevers and fit-starts of discomfort&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But no, death was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;all about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;their lives,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;so the urge was to throw open the window&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that's gone stiff and easeless through winter,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        spring coming let outside-in, and to move with it,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        to prove and test the tight path through the heather&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        and scrub that's been given you to walk,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                 to use the hours to un-blank the pages  -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                 that's the triumph, the photo finish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                 in the breakneck race of life versus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                           that old scarecrow neighbour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;in the churchyard  that overflows the watercourse with corpses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Jane Commane -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This House is a Looking-glass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the sisters only just out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;of the reflection.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The stone floors grained with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sermons and laudanum,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Byronic heroes and moor-peat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;off their soles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Their souls laying down layers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;of passion in tiny careful script&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the insect-pens scrabbling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;from their hive-brain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Char March -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More poems and photos from the day to follow soon....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601013370638033549-3438419145105751661?l=declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/feeds/3438419145105751661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetry-day-parsonage-up-close.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/3438419145105751661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/3438419145105751661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetry-day-parsonage-up-close.html' title='Poetry Day - The Parsonage &apos;Up Close&apos;'/><author><name>Jenna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11346581178556511720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601013370638033549.post-2410092014331750576</id><published>2009-08-12T11:23:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T12:08:25.407+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Day - Tuesday 11 August 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7nB_zhKdXEs/SoKg2u6tsXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/1GqzJcqi5K0/s1600-h/Tues+11+August+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369030567946727794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7nB_zhKdXEs/SoKg2u6tsXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/1GqzJcqi5K0/s320/Tues+11+August+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poets Sarah Hymas and Sue Wood ran a successful creative writing day at the museum. They offered simple creative writing activities for visitors and families. Lines from poems by Yorkshire women writers such as Gaia Holmes, Sylvia Plath and Helen Dunmore were placed as text installations around the museum to get visitors thinking. At the end of their tour they could take some museum objects as inspiration for their own writing, or a more challenging activity was to pluck a lucky dip of a line of poetry from a top hat, choose a location in the museum, and see what creative ideas flowed. Here are some of the responses:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's all black, then I saw upon your face hope and inspiration - Anon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Devoted&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's a one she is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No laker&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I keep them away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To me she gives&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;the morsel from her finger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To me. - Anna Clarkson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A cough made the guitar quake&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;in the corner of the room. - Hayano Mimei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The light entices her to feel no fear but the love of others who will soon hold her in their hearts forever - Saime Higson for Sarah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dog Keeper and I stroll through the Yorkshire moors. The dew on the grass shines down on the ground. Suddenly Keeper growls. He senses danger. As fast as lightening he falls deep into the shadowy dark hole of hunters. He's hurt. He tries desperately to look fierce but when you look into those deep brown eyes of his, you can see the fear and softness in his eyes. I must go and get help. - Roisin Daly, age 10&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When my ears drink the sounds and the soul flies away life becomes lighter and art finds its way to the page - Noam Taylor, Israel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those who would dream, waste not their hour, they ride the unicorn, a cause the night to flower knowing full well reality has bars. They dream their silver dreams and salt the universe with many jeweled stars. Gerald Richards, Australia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 o'Clock in the morning I was sent to get some breakfast it was cold in the kitchen so I had to wear a thick dress. Isabella, age 7.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Dining Room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I sit here in the dining room, I wish the colours could be echoed in the kitchen, the monotonous chores would then be more fun! - Anon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The shoe is extremely tiny and very narrow. It has a hard wooden sole which I imagine would be very uncomfortable. The upper shoe is made of leather and has a pointed toe. All around the side of the shoe are little spots of brass that look like little jems. The buckles are again made of brass and are very delicate, and also have a pretty pattern. These shoes are so different to our shoes now. By Lorna Coldwell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sarah and Sue also performed impromptu readings of poems by the Brontes, the poems by Yorkshire women writers exhibited in the museum and their own work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sarah Hymas&lt;/strong&gt; lives in Lancaster and loves to collaborate with other writers and artists. Her work has appeared in single collections, anthologies, magazines, multimedia exhibits, dance videos, improvised operas and on stage. Her first collection of poetry, &lt;em&gt;Host&lt;/em&gt;, is due out in winter 2009. &lt;a href="http://sarahhymas.blogspot.com/"&gt;http:sarahhymas.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sue Wood&lt;/strong&gt; has lived in Halifax for the past twenty years. She has run creative writing sessions at the Parsonage and out in the community with people from the age of seven to eighty and beyond. She recently won a Cinnamon Press award for Poetry and had her first collection &lt;em&gt;Imagine yourself to be water&lt;/em&gt; published. &lt;a href="http://www.cinnamonpress.com/"&gt;http://www.cinnamonpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601013370638033549-2410092014331750576?l=declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/feeds/2410092014331750576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetry-day-tuesday-11-august-2009.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/2410092014331750576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/2410092014331750576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetry-day-tuesday-11-august-2009.html' title='Poetry Day - Tuesday 11 August 2009'/><author><name>Jenna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11346581178556511720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7nB_zhKdXEs/SoKg2u6tsXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/1GqzJcqi5K0/s72-c/Tues+11+August+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601013370638033549.post-7366244615854126184</id><published>2009-08-12T10:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T11:06:04.689+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting started...</title><content type='html'>The Bronte Parsonage Museum has received funding to develop a series of projects that celebrate and showcase women's writing, as part of a vibrant contemporary arts programme that already exists at the museum. The Brontes were pioneering women writers and we hope that this project will enable a variety of writers, readers and visitors, to explore the museum, the Brontes and their work in new ways, but also to inspire new responses and creativity. There will be event days at the museum, as well as readings by prominent and emerging women writers (which will hopefully be podcasted on this site) and a writer in residence who will create a special project for teenage girls in the local community. All the events will be recorded here on this blog...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601013370638033549-7366244615854126184?l=declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/feeds/7366244615854126184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/08/getting-started.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/7366244615854126184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601013370638033549/posts/default/7366244615854126184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://declaringourselveswomen.blogspot.com/2009/08/getting-started.html' title='Getting started...'/><author><name>Jenna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11346581178556511720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
