Helmsley Castle | British Counties in Verse

Photorealistic cinematic landscape, The ruined east tower of Helmsley Castle in North Yorkshire, sliced clean in half by a gunpowder blast four centuries ago: one half of the Norman stone tower still stands at full height on the right of the frame, its missing half open to the sky, the broken edge jagged and sharply lit. Weathered pale limestone, scattered fallen blocks and tufts of wild grass at its base, a little ivy low on the walls. Dramatic low golden-hour light from the right, glowing amber against a deep indigo and storm-grey sky, thin mist lying in the ditch below, a few rooks wheeling far off in the right of the sky. Rich contrast, crisp stone texture, shallow atmospheric haze for depth, moody and elegant, like a fine-art landscape photograph. Composition: the tower sits in the right third of the frame; keep the upper-left third of the image as plain, soft, uncluttered dusk sky and mist with no stonework, birds or detail. The Book North Yorkshire In Verse - Moor To Shore In Po

Who Broke Helmsley Castle? A Ruin, a Lost Roman City and the Verb That Lies

Time takes the blame for every ruin. At Helmsley, somebody gave the order. Last week we stood on the East Cliff at Whitby. This week we go inland, to a market town on the southern edge of the North York Moors, where the River Rye comes down out of the hills, and to a castle that was broken on purpose. There are two poems here. The first is more than four hundred years old and is spoken by a city that has vanished. The second is my own, about Helmsley Castle, from North Yorksh

Alden Carrow

Oct 69 min read