Tag Archive | 7th traveller

Rochester (an audio walk)

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This collection of writing was produced as part of the ME4 Writers 7th Traveller project. It is designed to be listened to during a walk around Rochester.
Starting from the site of the old police station, on the corner of Cazeneuve Street. Follow Victoria Street to the bottom of Star Hill. Walk the length of the High Street then turn left along the Esplanade and walking up the steps to the Castle Gardens. Leave by the Epaul gate and head down towards the Cathedral then follow the road around towards the Terrace and up past the Kings Orchard gate to the Vines.
Walk at a steady pace neither rushing or daudling and participate in a shifting experience, as the words sync into the landscape providing a something different for every person and time the walk is taken.
Written by Roy Smith
With thanks to the readers:
Nikki Price, Bob Wade, Natalie Eacersall, Robert Swan, Sam Hall, Peter Groves, Lesley Conquest, Mike Dickinson and Mark Erwin

Financial schism (too be read between a bank and a cathedral)

Behind my chair unfolds a world that cameras never capture

and on the sill,

a purple sprouting flower,


I mark the time with various lunches and mathematics

that bring on digestive rumbles;

the chest burns, but

mincemeat tarts and pink ice cream scoops

crown the pudding


Assign the percentile,

wrestle with the sheet and think of better times.

When the lady watched me swimming

and I took her home to parlour

and there still

we live, but crumbling slightly.

Her doll hands buttered,

lest they fade,

hold on.

She asks when and soon

a different world

I like, but worry mostly

to rise a phoenix, refreshed anew

or end quite sudden.

And in the time between this and that we only want the best,

in breaks and gentler days, we live

in bars

and tend the plants

the ball game and the candy bar,

on beaches,


stars and cloud alike,

in happy conversation.

But it can never wait so long

why live it like tomorrow,

endorsed by men who sell it dear

and crown us in our sorrow.

We never went on rocket ships

or fought the bear in winter,

and yet

we live

and not too bad,

not special

or sad

I’ll call her.

Roy Smith 2010 – for the 7th traveller