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Academi and Arriva Trains

Academi and Arriva Trains are combining on a project to generate new travel writing from some of Wales’s most gifted young writers. 

Members of the Academi’s Young Writing Squads have been offered free travel warrants by Arriva trains and will be joined by leading writers for writing sessions on trains as the scenery slides slowly past the windows. Arriva are hoping to be able to use some of the work in their own publicity material and the Squad members will see Wales with new, wide-open eyes.

Arriva Trains scenic railways are :
- the Heart of Wales Line - Swansea to Shrewsbury
- the Cambrian Coast Line - Machynlleth to Pwllheli
- the Pembroke Coast Line - Whitland to Pembroke Dock
- the Conwy Valley Line - Llandudno to Blaenau Ffestiniog
- the Borderlands Line - Wrexham to Bidston

Information relating to all Arriva scenic routes can be found by visiting http://www.arrivatrainswales.co.uk/ScenicRoutes2.aspx

Some of the poems already emerging from the project have come from Gwynedd Writing Squad’s trip down the line from Pwllheli to Barmouth with Francesca Kay and Squad organiser Gwen Lasarus James. 

Some scenic poems:

    Golden Railtracks
She stepped into the sea,
That summer afternoon,
The setting sun glowed orange,
And bathed her body in light.
She cast her fingers over the hills,
And glided over mountains.
Her song shrilled a few notes
Then escaped into harmony,
She ran smoothly past fields
And ruins of cottages.
   The tunnels of life
Burrowed deep into her soul,
The tracks of her path
Stopped at fate’s stations,
She scampered joyfully
Over the soft sand,
And clattered down the golden path.

 Leah Shakespear Huws

 

     On the Train
 I’m waiting, waiting on the long platform, hearing nothing but the sound of the café’s kitchen girls chatting and the faint mutter of conversation. A rumble in the distance, and then I see the noisy caterpillar train approaching. Five minutes later, I’m off.
 Peering through the dust covered windows, the platform has long since disappeared and the train is gathering speed. White cottages and green meadows fly past in a blur of colour. I turn my head away from the window and enter a completely new world of noisy children and tired adults with their heads pressed against the seats. But all the chatter is nothing compared to the beautiful view of the vast countryside and glimpse of patched cows grazing the lush green grass.  The trees on one side melt into the sea and I feel as if I’m travelling on the water, floating like a boat.
 Field after field passes by and I’m barely aware of where I’m going as I stare at the pale blue sky scattered with candyfloss clouds. In many fields the grass has been cut short and there are big bales everywhere as if a giant chicken has been laying eggs.
 As the fields change into buildings, the train slows down.

 Catrin Jones

 

   Train
Colours flowing, streaming, clashing,
Sky changing,
Wheels ringing,
The evergreens working through oak and heather.

Long and accessible,
The train,
I’m quite fond of it,
The swift swan.

A glider,
A swimmer,
A people-fisher,
Powerful, Beautiful.

Colours flowing,
Streaming like rain,
Clashing with scenery,
Changing it for seconds only.

 Robin E.B. Williams

 

   Journey
It starts,
A rhythm,
A pulse,
Quickening.

Mind drifting,
Slowly away,
Words leaving,
Me and my mind.

It’s odd really,
Being so far
from reality,
from any car.

 Robin E.B. Williams

   On the Train
I’m sitting on a train, and the
world flying by,
Swirls of green, as the trees whizz past.

I wonder what the man in
the black suit is doing, working
on his laptop, his fingers flying
over the keys.

Outside little houses are hiding
in the woods.  We pass colourful
stations, with painted pictures
on the walls. It looks happy
and peaceful.

Inside, a woman is sound asleep
with her mouth wide open. Her
eyes are closed, and it looks
as if she’s dreaming a wonderful
dream.

 Megan Angharad Jones

   Downtown Train
It’s a midnight rendezvous on the number 13 train,
  And auspicious, suspicious meeting of
  late night insomniacs, hoboes and maniacs
  Drifting away, Drifting anywhere, Drifting to sleep
  The yellow windows cut through the night
and the only noise is that of the buzzing, flickering
     light overhead and the rattle of the carriage
     as we sail silently to the other side of the night
We’ll follow the winding tracks until reach the horizon
on this one way ticket to freedom
      I’ll see you there…

 Alaw Llewellyn Roberts

   Wales – from a train
Trees, trees and more trees.
Rocks, rocks, and more rocks.
Hills, hills, and more hills.
Sheep, sheep, and more sheep.
Streams, streams, and more streams.
 Rain.

 Leah Shakespear Huws

 

    Horizon
A rock sits in the distance,
A castle rests on top,
Casting unsettling shadows,
Over sea and fields of crops.

The stones seem haunted, eerie,
They whisper unheard tales,
But the flag that flies above it,
Is the Dragon that proudly sails,
Telling every person
That this is truly Wales.

 Leah Shakespear Huws