September 2012- What’s On, Midlands Spoken Word

Birmingham Artsfest – 7th-9th
http://www.artsfest.org.uk/

Wirksworth Arts Festival, Derbys 7th-23rd Sept
http://www.wirksworthfestival.co.uk/

Stafford Arts Fest 15th

Click to access Stafford-Arts-Festival-Timetable.pdf

Warwick Words 28th Sept – 7th Oct
http://warwickwords.co.uk/

Wellington Literary Festival , Shrops29th Sept- 20th October
http://www.wellington-shropshire.gov.uk/literary-festival/

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Saturday 1st Simon Fletcher will be talking about Offa’s Press at the Assembly Rooms, Ludlow, South Shropshire, as part of a Writing West Midlands networking afternoon. 2-4pm Free.

Sat 1st Sept Buddy Wakefield, MAC Birmingham, 7.30pm £5in
The two-time Individual World Poetry Slam Champion visits Birmingham with his raw, rounded performance style. This is a unique chance to catch Buddy Wakefield on one of his very rare European tours and witness see one of the top spoken word artists in the world live and unpluggedin an intimate venue. Buddy will be supported supported by up-and-coming West Midlands poets Mstr Morrison, Jodi Ann Bickley, and Rehema Njambi.

Where: mac Birmingham, Cannon Hill Park, Birmingham, B12 9QH
Tickets: £5
Info: macarts.co.uk/event/apples-and-snakes-buddy-wakefield
Booking: macarts.co.uk / 0121 446 3232

Sun 2nd Sept Buzzwords, Exmouth Arms,Bath Road Cheltenham, Gloucestershire GL53 7LX, 7pm Workshop, open mic plus Michael Thomas

Mon 3rd SW&N ClubThe Newhampton Inn, Riches Street (off Newhampton Road West) Wolverhampton WV6 0DW 8pm £3 in,Storytelling, poetry, a tune, or a song!

Tues 4th Mee Club, Kitchen garden cafe , Kings Heath,7.30pm: £7 in, a variety and cabaret night for singles. Cat Weatherill hosts, Amy Rainbow stars

Tues 4th Night Blue Fruit, Taylor Johns, Canal Basin Coventry,8pm start, free in, Tony Owen hosts-ope mic sign up on the night.

Tues 4th Word ,Y Theatre, East Street, Leicester LE1 6EY, just opposite Leicester Train Station7pm performers, 8pm, Audience, Open mic plus headliner. £6in
WORD! is the longest running poetry and spoken word night in Leicester. Based at The Y Theatre, Leicester, it takes place on the first Tuesday of every month, between 8.00 and 10.30pm. The evening is composed of an open mic, followed by a booked act- Sophie Blackwell

Thurs 6th Good Impressions Spoken word, Cafe Impression, Atkins Building Hinckley, LE10 1QU,7.30pm £5in Hosted by Tom Phillips,ist Thursday Monthly

Thurs 6th Yard of Tales,Joules Yard, rear of 53-55 High Street, Market Harborough, Leicestershire, LE16 7AF.
Joules Yard is a unique venue with a licensed bar after 7pm, also serving tea and coffee. If you would like to order a vegetarian meal for the evening, provided by ‘The Green House’ please telephone 01858 463250. Market Harborough, Leicestershire, Meets first Thursday in the month.

Thurs 6th Parole Parlate, Autumn Special, Little Venice, St Nicholas st , Worcester, 730 pm, £3 in: Gary Longden & Amy Rainbow Headline with:
Polly Robinson
Christopher Kingsley
Euginia Herlihy
Andrew Owens
Ian Ward
Jeremy Holtom
Damon Lord

Fri 7th, 8th/9th Birmingham Artsfest- the Uks largest Arts festival;http://www.artsfest.org.uk/
Poets include Sammy Joe, Shabz Ahmed,Brendan Hawthorne,Kimmy Sue Anne, decadent Divas, Jan Watts and Dwayne Reads.

Sat 8th Poetry Reading, Polewsorth Abbey 2pm: Free in a celebration of the results of Dig the Poetry including an exhibition of finds and poetry written.

Sunday 9th Nick Pearson will be running an Offa’s Press bookstall (with volunteers) at the Birmingham Independent Book Fair, Council House, Victoria Square, Birmingham, B3 3BD, part of the Birmingham ArtsFest 2012. 11am-6pm.

Gary Longden will be at the launch of “Here Comes Everyone” by Silhouette Press

Mon 10th Pub Poetry Nottingham The Canal house, 48-52 Canal Street, Nottingham, NG1 7EH,8pm, 2nd monday : Free in, Open micContact Nick on pubpoetry@nottscomedyfestival.co.uk

Mon 10th pure and good and right, Sozzled Sausage, Leamington Spa, CV32 4NX,This month’s guest poets are..
Vois:Vois are an acoustic and a cappella collective, whose mission is to release the talents of musicians throughout the midlands. Combining soulful song, righteous rap and melodic musicianship, Vois are a rare blend of talent and technique who provide a real treat for appreciative ears.
&
Armadeep Dhillon:Armadeep Dhillon is a young poet who wowed on PGR debut with the soulful power of his writing. Returning for a long overdue feature slot, Armadeep is the kind of young voice our world so urgently needs.Admission £3 (£2 Student/OAP)
From time to time we are located upstairs, so please let us know if you require disabled access before the event.
If you would like to know more about the night email: pgrpoetry@gmail.com

Tuesday 11th Jane Seabourne and Nick Pearson will be reading at ‘City Voices’, City Bar, King Street, Wolverhampton. WV1 1ST 7.45pm Free admission.

Tuesday 11th Dave Reeves guests at ‘Mouth and Music’, the Boars Head Gallery, 39 Worcester Street, Kidderminster, DY10 1EW. 8.00pm Tickets £3.00

Tues 11th Spire Writes, Havana Whites,12 Corporation St, Chesterfield. 7.30pm, Open Mic, Helen Mort officiates, Matt McAteer headlines

Tues 10th Scribal Gathering The Crown Stony Stratford:7.30pm,Get ready for another fantastic feast of musical mastercraft and poetical proficiency, bringing together lachrymatorially lyrical local live talent and perfervid performers from perfurther afield. We have headline performances from special guests Dan Plews and Alan Wolfson, as well as the open-minded open mic, welcoming all to muse upon their views, share their wares, show their stuff, shine before their peers and shout what it’s all about, to a tolerant and very forgiving audience. Join us, and invoke the spirit of gathering…
When: Tuesday 11th July 2012. Doors open at 7.30 for a prompt 8.00 start.
Where: The Crown, Market Square, Stony Stratford MK11 1BE.
How: Free entry. Sign up for open mic on the night. Arrive early to avoid disapproval.
Performance slots are available to anyone who has learned their times tables or is hard enough; there will be special guest headline performances and a lunch-money / cigarette racket from Kevin Sullivan and the SAKS duo and Antipodean exchange student Liz Breslin. We welcome musicians, poets and performers of any style, genre or level of experience to share their creativity, show off their talent, pass notes around or just try and fit in and get through the whole ordeal without being noticed. So get your tie and blazer on, tuck yourself in and get embroiled in a footwear-based elitist social hierarchy system. We’re jumping on the Scribal Gathering Back To School Bandwagon. Join us…
…or you’ll have to do it next time in your pants and vest.

Tues 11th Mouth & Music 6,Boars Head Gallery, Kidderminster 8pm, £3 in:The 6th in our monthly series of totally & utterly acoustic spoken word & music nights! Open mic sign-up from 7.30 5 minutes / 2 songs each, Admission £3 (free to performers) Presented by Heather Wastie & Sarah Tamar for kaf creatives

Tues 11th Tales at the Edge, White Lion Inn, Bridgnorth, Shropshire,Tales at the Edge is one of the country’s oldest and most established storytelling clubs, meeting in Bridgenorth on the 2nd Tuesday of every month (except August) at 8 pm.

Wed 12th Spoken Word,Old Cross, Church Street, Stapleford 7.30pmThe third evening of poems and stories from two local performers – Dave Wood and Richard Young.This time featuring Jackie Brewster.Those wishing to read/perform are welcome to for (depending on circumstances) approximately 5 minutes.Anything spoken word is fine. A great chance to try out your writing in a fun way and there may even be cake for saleEntrance is £1.There will be no microphones and all seating will be in the round.

Wed 12 th The Quad Derby QUAD, Market Place, Cathedral Quarter, Derby, DE1 3AS Second Wednesday 19.30 Free in, A monthly night of performed poetry for everyone, new performers always welcome or just come and listen, More details from QUAD or contact Les on T: 01332 206 734, http://www.derbyquad.co.uk

Thurs 13th Shipping Forecast The Rude Shipyard, 89 Abbeydale Road, S7 1FE Sheffield,7.45pm An open mic night of poetry, prose, music, performance, raffles and fun.
This is a very informal cosy monthly night of joy in the snug environs of the marvellous Rude Shipyard in Sheffield (UK). The night provides a platform for established and first-time performers to play to a warm and appreciative audience.
Always a surprise, always a treat, grab yourselves a cuppa, some tasty homemade cake and join the fun.moi miss piggy or stan skinny host.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/169584853087066/

Thurs 13th Coffeehouse Poetry Open Mic, Shrewsbury Coffee House , Castle Gate, Shrewsbury with Liz lefroy, 7.30pm, free in. David Calcutt and Gary Longden headline

Thursday 13th Jane Seabourne will be reading at Coleshill Library, Warwickshire, 7pm, as part of the Literature on Your Doorstep project. Free.
Fri 14th Open Mic, Wednesbury Museum & Art Gallery, 7.30pm, free in

Thurs 13th Hit the Ode,The Victoria, 48 John Bright St, Birmingham B1 1BN 7.30 pm, £5 in,Hit the Ode brings the most exciting poets from the region, the country and the world to the heart of Birmingham. Join us! We have poems. Poems which look good in red; poems displayed under protective glass cases; poems cobbled together from kite string and transistor radios. Great poems. Come and get them.Line-up:Al Hutchins, Harry Baker, Luanda Casella,A very few open mic slots will be available on the door (the pre-bookable slots have all been claimed). For more info, contact bohdan@applesandsnakes.org.

Fri 14th Wednesbury Art Gallery and Museum, open mic poetry, 7.30pm, free admission

Fri 14th Two way Street,Bookmark Bloxwich,B​loxwich Library, ElmoreRow,​ Bloxwich,W​alsall. WS3 2HR. 01922 655900
Appletree Theatre and Film Company will present their most recent piece, Two Way Street at Bookmark Theatre Bloxwich on Friday 14 September at 7.30pm. The popular, Midlands-based company returns to the Bookmark following their hugely successful tour of The Browning Version last year. They will perform an evening of comical duologues using both live performance and recorded footage and featuring 3 duologues by local writer/ producer David Tristram. This performance will showcase the work of the company’s professional West Midlands based actors as Appletree’s profile continues to rise.

Two Way Street forms part of Bookmark Theatre’s Autumn programme of events. Their touring piece of 2011, The Browning Version, attracted much acclaim and caused audiences to leave feeling entertained and impressed.

Fri 14thNew Mills Festival presents a Poetry Slam at the wonderful new Spring Bank Arts Centre
Spring Bank, New Mills, High peak, Derbys SK22 4BH Tel 01663 3082022 7pm-10.30pm,£5 /£4 concessions Tickets on the door,A Spring Bank Production, Everyone welcome to read or listen

Sat 15th Stafford Arts Festival, Poetry at the Council Buildings, 10-4pm. Free in
Poetry @ Stafford Arts Fest: Programme

10:00 Jack Edwards
10:10 John Mills
10: 20 Jae Alexander Linsey
10:30 Helen Mort
10:40 Ian Ward
10:50 Liz Mills
11:00 Richard Faulkener
11:10 Sammy Joe
11:20 Rohit Ballal
11:30 Deborah Alma (Provisional)
11:40 Mike Tinsley (Provisional)
11:50 Ian Bowkett
12:00 The Trent Vale Poet

12:10 – 13:00 BREAK

13:00 Helen Calcutt
13:10 Tom Wyre
13:20 Gary Longden
13:30 Janet Jenkins
13:40 Janet Arnold
13:50 Rosina Trotman
14:00 Daniel Shelley Smith
14:10 Al Barz
14:20 David Calcutt
14:30 Emily Oldham
14:40 Tony Stringfellow
14:50 Veronica Shepard

15:00 – 16:00 OPEN MIC

Sat 15th Notes From the Underground, Hollybush PH, Newtown lane, Cradley Heath, 8pm Start, Free in, Poetry and music Open Mic with Jack Edwards and William Shatspeare

Mon 17th Shindig, Western PH, Leicester:7.30pm, free in:Crystal Clear Creators and Nine Arches Press present Shindig! Open-Mic Poetry Evening: Free and Open to All.
Featured poets are: including featured writers Rory Waterman, Sarah Jackson, Daniel Sluman and Angela France
Sign up for open-mic slots on the door.
Email Jonathan Taylor (crystalclearjt@hotmail.co.uk) for further details.

Mon 17th Gorilla Poetry,Dada Trippet Lane Sheffield S1 4EL,8pm,Slam Winner Stan Skinny is our headliner. A comic force of entertainment from Spots to Eye Pads you will be taken on a journey were your funny bones will jiggle.Flex your prolix and were all suffer obesity verbosity.An evening of top poetry and be prepared to be captivated.

Tues 18th Mee Club, Kitchen Garden Cafe , Kings Heath,7.30pm: £7 in, a variety and cabaret night for singles. Cat Weatherill hosts,

Wed 19th , Storytelling Cafe Kitchen Garden Cafe,York Rd, Kings Heath, 7.30pm (Doors 6.30pm)
Summer is in the air and we dream of lands far away. Take a journey into your imaginations with the Christine McMahon. Enjoy a relaxed and compelling summer’s night of storytelling with a glass of wine and a relaxed sociable atmosphere. Food Served from 6.30, Stories start at 7.30.
Tickets: £7
Tickets available from the Cafe or http://www.wegottickets.com

Wed 19th Templar Poetry, Lamb & Flag, The Tything, Worcester, 8pm; Open mic, third Wednesday, Alex officiates contact:Alex McMillen, Alex McMillen,Templar Poetry, PO BOX 7082, Bakewell, Derbyshire, DE45 9AF,Tel: 01629 582500, Mobile: 07918166975
info@templarpoetry.co.uk

Thurs 20th Goblin Poetry and Folk Club, Giggling Goblin Cafe, Ashby de la Zouch; 7.30pm start. Brian Langtry hosts.

Fri 21st Spoken Worlds 19:30 The Old Cottage Tavern , Byrkley St,eet, Burton-upon-Trent DE14 2JJ Open mic gajwriter@btinternet.com

Fri 21st Word Up – SixEightCafe ,Temple Row Birmingham. 6.30pm fre in,Fourth Friday,Word Up’ is a spoken word night with a difference. Created and run by Mark Watson and Rosina Caldwell. It is a monthly event held at the highly renowned ‘Six Eight Kafe’ (www.sixeightkafe.co.uk) in Birmingham, who kindly provides a fitting venue for the night.

Saturday 22nd Emma Purshouse is running a variety evening at The Imperial in Bilston, Wolverhampton, 7.30pm. Tickets are from £10 and can be reserved through Emma by emailing: emmaasif@hotmail.com

Sun 23nd Sunday Xpress Fourth Sunday Doors 1500, Start 16:30 Adam & Eve Bradford Street, Birmingham B12 0JD Open mic
jameskennedycentral@yahoo.co.uk

Sun 23rd Sept Powwow, Prince of Wales Lit Fest, Alcester Rd, Moseley,http://thespidermonkey.co.uk/litfest2012/
It’s great value for a line up which includes R J Ellory (million selling crime writer), S F Said (Award winning children’s author), Luke Brown (Tindal Street Press), Charlie Brotherstone (A M Heath Literary Agency), Tim Broughton (Harper Collins) and William Gallagher (freelance script writer – credits include Doctor Who audio dramas for Big Finish).

Sun 23rd Pooley Country Park, 10th Anniversary Celebrations,11am, readings from the Polesworth Poetry trail

Sun 23nd Rhyme and Tells at the Six Bells in Bishops Castle, Shropshire,Meets every 4th Sunday of the month (except for public holidays) at 8 pm – 10.30 pm. It is free admission and an open session for poetry, prose and storytelling.
For further details please contact Mike on 01588 680685.

Mon 24th Poetry Open Mic, calahouse, Nottingham, 8pm

Tuesday 25thPurple Penumbra Open Mic, Barlow Theatre, Oldbury:7.30pm
Bring your poetry and your pals to this open mic event, or just come and be entertained.
Those with a musical bent who can fill in a gap or two with something melodic and acoustic are particularly welcome.
Enliven, enrich and enhance the experience of the famous Barlow Theatre bar with your presence, why not?

Tuesday 25th Fizz, Polesworth Abbey, Poleworth, Open Mic and Guest Gary Carr.7.30pm, Free in

Tues 25th The Telling Space, Mythstories, *NEW VENUE* (relocated from Wem) Mythstories,The Shrewsbury Coffeehouse,5 Castle Gates, SY1 2AE,Wem, Shropshire,The club meets on the 4th Tuesday of every month unless otherwise stated. Please check the website under ‘opening hours and events’ http://www.mythstories.com or contact Dez or Ali on 01939 235500 for further information.
Meet at 7 pm for refreshments (bring food to share) or at 7.30 pm for stories. A chance to listen or an opportunity to tell. Admission is free.

Tues 25th Word Wizards Buckingham Hotel Buxton 19.30. Open mic three minute slam format More info Poetryslamuk@aol.com

Tues 25th , Poetry Bites Kitchen Garden Cafe,York Rd, Kings Heath, 7.30pm (Doors 6.30pm) Christine Coleman and Jan Watts guests, Jacqui Rowe hosts, loads of open mic, £5in

Wed 26th Phenomenal Women 5, Library Theatre, Birmingham, 7.30pm: Free in,A showcase for the top women poets in the region, men welcome as part of the auidience

Wed 26th “42″ Open Mic Night (Gothic, Horror, Sci-Fi & Fantasy) Lunar Bar, New St Worcester, 7.30, Free in:last wed monthly E-mail: 42openmicnight@42genrearts.co.uk

Wed 26th Smart Poets Open Mic, Veggd out, Fletchers walk, Paradise Circus, Birmingham City Centre, 7pm.With Penny Hewlett

Wed 26thPackhorse Poets,The Packhorse Inn, Crowdecote, near Longnor,Derbys on the fourth Wednesday of each month, 7.30pm

Thur 27th Bilston Voices Cafe Metro 46 Church Street, Bilston WV14 0AH Fourth Thursday 19:00 Only booked poets perform: emmaasif@hotmail.com

Thurs 27th Rob gee@ Speech Therapy, Bar Deux, Nottingham 8.30pm: Speech Therapy returns from its summer break with a fast fading suntan, weary smile on its face and a carrier bag full of cheap duty free plonk. This month we are tickled to bits to welcome as our headline performer, the amazing Mr Rob Gee.

Poet, comedian and reformed psychiatric nurse, Rob has clocked up over two thousand shows, toured extensively, and performed with acts such as Jimmy Carr, Harold Pinter, Jo Brand and Frankie Boyle. Appearances at festivals include the Glastonbury and Edinburgh Festivals
, the Sydney International Poetry Festival, the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word and the Austin International Poetry Festival in Texas. He is sometimes sent into schools as a warning to children.

http://www.robgee.co.uk/

There will also be appearances from Miggy Angel, who mainly does poetry and swearing, John Marriott, who will once again be treating us to the thoughts and inner workings of the mysterious Bobby Shoes and of course there will be the infamous Raffle of Rammel.

MulletProofPoet will be on hand too, generally not getting people to behave. Anyone wishing to take part in the open mic section should e mail in advance.

info@mulletproofpoet.co.uk

£3.00 entry. See you there
Fri 28th Poetry Juke Box, The Unitarian Chapel, warwick 9pm: £5in, Maria taylor, Luke Kennard and Dan Sluman,Nine Arches Press presents a poetry reading with a unique twist: the audience has a hand in choosing the themes of the poems. So prepare for work that touches on the big issues, and some of the little ones too – everything from love, death and madness to laughter, losing and indulging our vices!

This promises to be a show full of surprises, with three poets who are among the most striking voices in contemporary British poetry.

Sat 29thSaturday 29th Jeff Phelps will be at Wellington Library, Shropshire, from 10am to 2pm as part of the Wellington Literature Festival local authors’ events.

Saturday 29 th Whistle with Martin Figura,Bridge House Theatre,7.30pm: £8,Profoundly honest and at the same time joyfully entertaining Independent on Sunday,When Martin Figura was nine years old, his father killed his mother.Whistle uses family photographs and striking visuals to explore themes of identity, forgiveness, loss, adoption and family with insight and gentle humour, to tell a unique coming-of-age story. After a successful Edinburgh Festival Fringe run in 2011 this award-winning spoken-word show is touring across the UK including a week at the Roundhouse London, before heading to the USA and Europe in 2013.

Whistle is a tender, beautiful, funny and moving childhood and coming-of-age story, which the poetry conveyed vividly to my imagination, as did Martin Figura’s telling of it, which was spellbinding. Chloe Garner, Director Ledbury Poetry Festival

Winner Poetry Society’s Hamish Canham Prize 2010
Short-Listed – The Ted Hughes Award for New Work 2010

Tickets: £8.00
(£6.00 concessions)
Tickets available from Festival Box Office 01926 776438.

http://www.martinfigura.co.uk

Sun 30th Sunday Xpress, Adam & Eve PH, Bradford St , Digbeth, Birmingham: 4pm, free in,Birmingham’s long-serving open mic afternoon. People say “The Sunday Xpress? Is that still going? I must come down to that again sometime.” Well, yes, it is, and it’s still worth a visit. To paraphrase John Peel talking about The Fall, the Sunday Xpress is “always different, always the same.”

Hosted by Birmingham’s answer to Carol Ann Duffy – the bard of Yardley Brendan Higgins – the Sunday Xpress is the ideal platform for the beginner, the seasoned professional, and the artist who wants to try something
t
hat’s a bit different or some new material. Over the years we’ve had many acts perform and find their voice, and who have gone on to bigger things because of it. The Sunday Xpress offers a strict freedom of speech policy. Anything goes.

Anything goes indeed – the Sunday Xpress is an open mic that encourages performers to do what they want to do – we’re spoken word friendly (indeed, the event was created from a writers’ co-operative) so we welcome poets, storytellers, fiction and non-fiction writers – we showcase drama, one-person-shows, stand up comedy, even people talking about their artwork and on some occasions – interpretive dance!! Musicians will find a great atmosphere to play in – we have a mixing desk and a mic/stand set up – but do bring any spare cables if you think you need it.

Doors open at 3, show starts around half 4 and goes on until everybody’s been on (usually around 7ish) The afternoon is compered by Brendan who will devise the running order and introduce you – it’s up to you to do the rest. The Adam doesn’t offer any grub so you’d be advised to have your dinner before you get there.

Hope to see you all there!

Sun30th Sept “Written on water” Aylestone Meadows, Leicester :Written on Water is a community event where writers, artists and the local community will come together to create words and pictures celebrating Leicester’s largest nature reserve. The event is planned for 30 September 2012 and all are welcome.

On 30th September participants will be encouraged to share their Meadows’ memories, words and stories with a team of volunteer Word Rangers. The Meadows is for everyone and everyone’s words will go towards a new Written on Water website and anthology. Artists and photographers will also paint, sketch or photograph this diverse environment in the heart of Leicester.

Written on Water is part of the Everybody’s Reading community festival, to do whatever it takes to get every child in Leicester reading. Written on Water is also supported by Leicester City Council, Aylestone Meadows Appreciation Society and Leicestershire and Rutland Wildlife Trust.

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Mon 1st SlamGorilla Poetry – Poetry Evolution, Dada bar, Trippet Lane, Sheffield, S1 4El, (Off West St) 8pm (7.30 doors)

Thursday 4th Word Birthday Special with Kwame Dawes,Central Lending Library, Bishop Street, Leicester 8pm:

Join us at Leicester Central Library for this ‘Lyric Lounge’ and ‘Everybody’s Reading’ special -marking National Poetry Day, Black History Season, , World Mental Health Month -and Word!s 11th Birthday !

£6/£4 concessions

It will feature the Emmy Award winning Kwame Dawes. Born in Ghana and raised in Jamaica, Kwame will share work from his rich body of writing, including his latest poetry collection, ‘Wheels’, and his edited anthology of 50 great Jamaican poets, ‘Jubilation’.

Prior to his performance Kwame will lead a special WORD!Shop, at Leicester Central Library.2-4pm.£3/£2 . To book please email lydia@wordpoetry.co.uk

Performers should arrive at 7.15 to sign up

Word! is brought to you by a committee of volunteers and visuals are by film-maker, Keith Allott.

Thursday 4 Poetry Brunch with Birmingham Poet Laureate 2011/2012 Jan Watts,Festival Bookshop, Central Library, Chamberlain Square, Birmingham, B3 3HQ,11am-1pm

Meet the poets who have been shortlisted to take over as Birmingham’s Poet Laureate 2012/2013. With coffee and croissants!

Admission is free, just drop in.

Thurs 4th Double Takes, Ludlow Library,2.30pm free,
A programme of readings in celebration of National Poetry Day

Gareth Owen and Liz Lefroy

Gareth Owen was born in Ainsdale, Lancashire and left school at 16 to serve in the Merchant Navy. For four years he taught in a London Secondary Modern School, before becoming a lecturer in English and Drama at Bordesley College of Education, Birmingham.

He began writing his poems for children while a teacher and his first published collection, ‘Salford Road’ won high praise from fellow poet Patric Dickinson:
‘…original,beautiful, serious, funny, real and imaginative. Nothing quite like it has been done before.’
His second, ‘Song of the City’ won the Signal award.
Over the years he has published four further volumes of poetry, the last a collection of football poems: ‘Can We Have Our Ball Back Please?’ (Macmillan in 2006).
His work has been published in over a 100 anthologies.
In addition to the poetry, he has published four novels, as well as books for younger children.
An accomplished verse reader, he has won both the Welsh Academy Spoken Poetry Award and the National Speak a Poem Award. For two years he presented the BBC’s long-running Poetry Please!

Four of his plays have been produced by the BBC, in one of which, ‘The Game’, he played the lead.

In 1993 he was prize winner of the Leeds Playhouse/W.H.Smith Play-Writing Competition. The play became the novel: ‘Rosie No Name and the Forest of Forgetting’

He lives in Ludlow, Shropshire where he writes and performs the occasional satirical Country song under the stage name of Virg Clenthills.

Liz Lefroy won the inaugural Roy Fisher prize in 2011 and has published two pamphlets – ‘Pretending the Weather’ and ‘The Gathering’, both by Long Face Press. Her work has appeared in Mslexia, Magma, The Frogmore Papers, Shoestring, and on The Writers’ Hub and Psychogeographic Review. She lives in Shrewsbury and runs the monthly Shrewsbury Coffeehouse poetry event.

Thurs 4th Birmingham Poet Laureate launch with Elvis McGonigal and Deborah Alma, aka, The Emergency Poet ,Yumm Café, Zellig (The Custard Factory), Gibb Street, Digbeth, Birmingham, B9 4AA:6 – 8pm

Free, please book to avoid disappointment

Birmingham Book Festival, Birmingham Poet Laureate 2012/13 & National Poetry Day

Special Guest: Elvis McGonagall – One Man & his doggerel!

Join us as we launch the fourteenth Birmingham Book Festival, celebrate National Poetry Day and announce the new Birmingham Poet Laureate 2012/13.

Writing West Midlands’ Programmes Director, Sara Beadle, will say a few words to introduce the Festival and some of the wonderful events to come over the next ten days. Festival staff and volunteers will also be on hand to tell you more and to answer any questions.

The annual Birmingham Poet Laureate programme is run by Birmingham Libraries. Each year a new Laureate is appointed to encourage local people to get involved in poetry. This year’s contenders have been through a rigorous selection process and we wait with anticipation the announcement of the winning poet. To lighten the tension, the out-going Birmingham Poet Laureate, Jan Watts, will be hand to perform alongside the new Laureate, handing over the honorary title with some choice wit and wisdom.

And to round off our evening’s celebration who better than Elvis McGonagall, stand-up poet, armchair revolutionary and recumbent rocker! Elvis, we are told, is the sole resident of The Graceland Caravan Park somewhere near Dundee, where he scribbles verse whilst drinking malt whisky and listening to Johnny Cash. He is also a former World Slam Champion, compere of the notorious Blue Suede Sporran Club and is one of the poets occasionally in residence on BBC Radio 4’s “Saturday Live”. Oh, and he is very, very funny!

The Emergency Poet – The World’s First & Only Mobile Poetic First Aid Service

‘Between the Fountains and the Green Man’, The Custard Factory, Gibb Street, Digbeth, Birmingham, B9 4AA

1 – 6pm. Free, drop in!

As a service to the City of Birmingham, we present the Emergency Poet – a vintage 1960s ambulance in which ‘Dr’ Deborah Alma can minister to the poetic needs of all and sundry. No appointment necessary, simply drop by if you’d like the ‘Dr’ to offer an up-lifting couplet or a life-enhancing stanza or two. Free at the point of demand and unaffected by NHS reforms, let our highly trained medic use the latest diagnostic techniques to prescribe just the write (ha, ha!) poem. Why feel worse? Take Verse!

Friday 5th Somon Armitage, walking Home,Adrian Boult Hall, Birmingham Conservatoire, Paradise Place, Birmingham B3 3HG, 7.30pm,
£10 / £6

In summer 2010 poet and writer Simon Armitage decided to walk the Pennine Way. The challenging 256-mile route is usually approached from south to north, from Edale in the Peak District to Kirk Yetholm, the other side of the Scottish border. He resolved to tackle it the other way round: through beautiful and bleak terrain, across lonely fells and into the howling wind, he would be walking home, towards the Yorkshire village where he was born.

Travelling as a ‘modern troubadour’ without a penny in his pocket, he stopped along the way to give poetry readings in village halls, churches, pubs and living rooms. His audiences varied from the passionate to the indifferent, and his readings were accompanied by the clacking of pool balls, the drumming of rain and the bleating of sheep.

Walking Home is the story of that journey, about facing emotional and physical challenges, and sometimes overcoming them. It’s nature writing, but with people at its heart. Contemplative, moving and droll, it is a unique narrative from one of our most beloved writers. Join him at the Birmingham Book Festival to explore this extraordinary journey.

Simon Armitage was born in 1963 and lives in West Yorkshire. He has published ten volumes of poetry including Selected Poems, 2001 (Faber & Faber). His most recent collections are Tyrannosaurus Rex Versus the Corduroy Kid and Seeing Stars. He has received numerous awards for his poetry including the Sunday Times Author of the Year, one of the first Forward Prizes and a Lannan Award. His most recent book, Seeing Stars, was shortlisted for the T. S. Eliot Prize and was a Poetry Book Society Choice.

He writes for radio, television and film, and is the author of four stage plays, including Mister Heracles, a version of the Euripides play The Madness of Heracles. His recent dramatisation of The Odyssey, commissioned by the BBC, was broadcast on Radio 4 in 2004 and is available through BBC Worldwide. He received an Ivor Novello Award for his song-lyrics in the Channel 4 film Feltham Sings, which also won a BAFTA.

Fri 5th Oct, 4th Malvern Slam plus Attila the Stckbroker, the Cube, Malvern: Attila is sharp tongued, high energy, social surrealist rebel poet and songwriter. His themes are topical, his words hard-hitting, his politics unashamedly radical. Inspired by the spirit and the ‘Do It Yourself’ ethos of punk rock, and above all by The Clash and their overtly radical, political stance.

The fourth Malvern Poetry slam will be held over two rounds. 10 Poets go head to head, in a battle of verse and wit until the last one standing is crowned Malvern slam champion 2012. Hysterical, poignant, moving. Not to be missed.Doors open 7.30 Entrance £ 7.00

Sat 6th Being Human,The Custard Factory Theatre, The Custard Factory, Gibb Street, Birmingham B9 4AA 8pm,£10 / £6

Charting the drama of our lives, Being Human presents thoughtful and passionate poems that will touch the heart, stir the mind and fire the spirit; poems about being human, about love and loss, fear and longing, hurt and wonder. Being Human is a dramatic performance of poetry drawn from the anthology Being Human (Ed. Neil Astley), published by Bloodaxe Books. Directed by Steve Byrne of Interplay with design and music from Talking Birds, it is performed by Barrett Robertson, Benedict Hastings and Elinor Middleton. After sellout performances in the Midlands in June, Being Human is now on a national tour and this is one of your last chances to see a show that audiences have described as ‘…an amazing theatrical experience’ and ‘absolutely stunning’. We think it is this year’s best poetry experience!

Copies of the anthology, Being Human, will be on sale during this event and at the Festival Pop-up Bookshop.

@BeingHumanPoet

Sun 7th Oct Buzzwords, Exmouth Arms,Bath Road Cheltenham, Gloucestershire GL53 7LX, 7pm Workshop, open mic plus Daniel Sluman

Tues 9th Spire Writes, Havana Whites, Chesterfield, 8pm, free in:
After a great gig from Chesterfield’s very own Matt McAteer in September, we return next month with two very special guests from further afield.

HELEN IVORY is a poet and artist. Her fourth Bloodaxe Books collection Waiting for Bluebeard is due in May 2013. She is an editor for The Poetry Archive and edits the webzine Ink Sweat & Tears. She teaches for The Poetry School, The Arvon Foundation, The Poetry Society and UEA. She is co-editor with George Szirtes of In their Own Words: Contemporary Poets on their
Poetry (Salt, October 2012)

MARTIN FIGURA is a photographer and poet living in Norwich where he works for Writers’ Centre, Norwich and Chairs Café Writers. His Collection and one-man-show Whistle (Arrowhead Press) was shortlisted for the 2010 Ted Hughes Award for New Work. He won the 2010 Hamish Canham Prize. A new pamphlet Arthur due out with Nasty Little Press in November. http://​www.martinfigura.co.uk/

As usual, there’ll be open mic slots (please let me know if you’d like to perform), doors open at 7.45 and we’ll finish in time for the last train back to Sheff. Havana Whites is two minutes from Chesterfield train station (or two seconds if you’re Usain Bolt).

FREE ENTRY so you can spend your money at the well-stocked bar instead…

Tuesday 9 October, CBSO Centre, Berkley Street, (Off Broad Street) Birmingham, B1 2LF,£10 / £6. 7pm
Caitlin Moran grew up in Wolverhampton. Her feminist handbook for modern times, How To Be A Woman, won the Galaxy Book of the Year Award 2011 and set the record straight on a number of important issues. Her new collection of writing, Moranthology, sets Caitlin free to talk about just about everything else. It proves that she is no slouch when it comes to wrestling with cultural, social and political issues, including ‘The Big Society’, Big Hair, The Welfare State, caravans, Doctor Who, binge-drinking, Downton Abbey, pandas, library closures and poverty (so, something for everyone, then…).

And if this level of top-rank wisdom wasn’t enough, we are delighted to welcome back to the Festival polymath, Birmingham resident and all round good bloke Stuart Maconie, a Patron of Writing West Midlands but more importantly author of brilliant books about our life and times, including Hope and Glory: A People’s History of Modern Britain and Pies & Prejudice.

Together, Caitlin and Stuart will talk about important stuff and manage to be high-minded and frivolous in equal measure. How to be a Woman and Moranthology by Caitlin Moran and Hope and Glory, Adventures on the High Teas, Pies & Prejudice and Cider with Roadies by Stuart Maconie will all be on sale at this event and at the Festival Pop-up Bookshop throughout the Birmingham Book Festival.

Supported by the new Library of Birmingham.

Wed 10th October at the Guildhall Theatre, Derby – Katy Cawkwell and Sarah Llewellyn Jones with “The Kingdom of the Heart” Book in advance and quote “Flying Donkeys” to get a special discount that brings it down to our normal Flying Donkeys ticket prices. (Book direct with Derby Live!)

Wed 10th oct Funny Women, Streetly Library, Blackwood Rd Streetly, 10.30-11.30 free in with Emma Purshouse and Win Saha

Wed 10th October, 2012,7.30pm, The Guildhall Theatre, Derby Live! Market Place, Derby, DE1 3AE. katy cawkwell (storyteller) and sarah llewellyn jones (cellist) – “the kingdom of the heart”

Thursday 11 Meet the New birmingham Poet laureate,Festival Bookshop, Birmingham Central Library Foyer, Chamberlain Square, Birmingham, B3 3HQ5 – 6pm

Thurs 13th Coffeehouse Poetry Open Mic, Shrewsbury Coffee House , Castle Gate, Shrewsbury with Ted Eames, 7.30pm, free in.

Thur 11th Carol Ann Duffy,Gillian Clarke at Glyndŵr University, Mold rd, Wrexham, 7.30pm,An evening of poetry with the Poet Laureate and the National Poet of Wales.

Mold Road, LL11 2AW

Sat 13th Oct 8th UK All Stars Poetry Slam at the Cheltenham Literature Festival . Twenty poets will contest the Qualifier at 3.30pm, with half a dozen places up for grabs in the Final at 8.30pm. Book early, as both events are likely to sell out quickly.

spielunlimited@gmail.com

Mon 15thGorilla Poetry – Poetry Evolution, Dada bar, Trippet Lane, Sheffield, S1 4El, (Off West St) 8pm (7.30 doors)

Wed 17th Speak Up, Bulls Head, Moseley: 7.30pm Nichol Keene and Toby De Angeli from Elephant Collective headlining. Cake, beanbags and sexy babes

Wed 17th Simon Armitage, Keele University, 7.30pm:
SIMON ARMITAGE: ‘Walking Home’ – – A cancer charity reading as part of Keele University’s 50th Anniversary Charter Year.

Please join Simon for a special evening of film footage and readings from his new bestselling memoir ‘Walking Home’, which describes his attempt to walk the Pennine Way as a modern troubadour. Travelling penniless, Simon relied on bartering poetry for his B&B and bacon butties while walking the 256 miles from north to south towards the Yorkshire village where he was born. Every night he gave free readings in village halls, churches, pubs and living rooms before passing round a walking sock and asking people to give him what they thought he was worth. As he discovered, this wasn’t always cash! Simon will also read from his acclaimed translation of the medieval poem ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, which is associated with Lud’s Church in the Staffordshire Moorlands. Simon will be available to sign books afterwards.

All proceeds to a hospital-based charity for women with breast cancer.

Venue: Westminster Theatre, Keele University, ST5 5BG
Tickets: £5 (£2.50): ring 01782 734169 or buy on campus at the Chancellor’s Building reception (cash please), Mon – Fri, 09.00-17.00

Thurs 1st NovThe Shrewsbury Coffeehouse,5 Castle Gates, SY1 2AE Shrewsbury 7.30pm:Emma Purshouse, Jane Seabourne and Nick Pearson, all published by Offa’s Press, will be reading.

Sun 4th Nov Buzzwords, Exmouth Arms,Bath Road Cheltenham, Gloucestershire GL53 7LX, 7pm Workshop, open mic plus Jo Bell

Mon 5th Slam Semi,Gorilla Poetry – Poetry Evolution, Dada bar, Trippet Lane, Sheffield, S1 4El, (Off West St) 8pm (7.30 doors)

Sat 17th Nov Book Launch, Will Buckingham, Simon Perril and Maria Taylor.The Crumblin’ Cookie,68 High Street, LE1 5YP Leicester,7.30pm: Come to the Crumblin’ Cookie for the book launch extravaganza of the year. An evening of poetry, fiction and fun, with novelists Jonathan Taylor and Will Buckingham, and poets Simon Perril and Maria Taylor. Between us, we will be launching four books: Maria’s poetry collection, “Melanchrini”, Will’s novel, “The Descent of the Lyre”, Jonathan’s novel, “Entertaining Strangers”, and Simon’s poetry pamphlet “Newton’s Splinter”.

Come for some or all of the evening: the event is free and the bar is open all evening.

Mon 19thGorilla Poetry – Poetry Evolution, Dada bar, Trippet Lane, Sheffield, S1 4El, (Off West St) 8pm (7.30 doors)

Sun 2nd Dec Buzzwords, Exmouth Arms,Bath Road Cheltenham, Gloucestershire GL53 7LX, 7pm Workshop, open mic plus Kate North
Mon 3rd Slam Final, Gorilla Poetry – Poetry Evolution, Dada bar, Trippet Lane, Sheffield, S1 4El, (Off West St) 8pm (7.30 doors)

Fri 7th Dec The 1st Cirencester Christmas Slam at New Brewery Arts Circencester, where first round poems will be themed, ho ho ho.Details:spielunlimited@gmail.com

Posted in Midlands Poetry What's On | 1 Comment

July August Poems

These months have been dominated by the Dig at Polesworth but a few others have crept in, taking in Bradley Wiggin’s tour de France triumph, and a moving visit to the German War Cemetery at Cannock Chase

In A Clearing

My name is Gary Longden,
It is 4/9/12
At the Deutsche Soldatanfriedhof
Cannock Chase

Minor roads bisect the pine forests
Myriad autumnal shades swamping
Every view, the turning could be missed

A sign declares the gates close at 4pm,sharp
A time that seems premature, well before nightfall
Sometimes life is like that

The outbuildings lie low, austere, tomb-like
Signage is minimal- but you know the way
Everyone does

A glazed panel stares out from reception hall gloom
Opaque glass reflects no sunbeams
Smooth one side , mottled on the other

Multiple ridges ripple in silent dissonance
Each indent the resting place of one
Of 5000 dead souls

Low slung doorways draw you to the Hall of Honour
And the twisted bronze corpse of the fallen warrior
Frozen in perpetual torment

Above a triangular concrete tent vaulted ceiling hangs
Supported by ugly pillars, no wind billows its lifeless sails
High walls offer little natural light to a monochrome howl

Six steps rise to a terrace, where the crews of four Zeppelin crews
Are buried together, as they fell
Looking down in death as they did in life

Outside, two verdant slopes blaze, sloping as a hull
The low valley floor a keel supported by lines of rib like graves
Whose journey is done.

Beauty and silence tower over all
Whilst worldly things cower
Watched by a simple cross

Lawn lies in perfect grass corridors
Cricket wicket width
Cushioning an even pace

Purple heather laps around Belgian granite
The face flat, the edges rough and unfashioned
As though torn from the bedrock

My fingers stuttered as they grazed the headstone
Caught by an uneven surface
And then we touched

His name was Kurt Raetsch
Buried in the Deutsche Soldatanfriedhof
Died 4/9/40.

Danger Perception

Travelling at speed at night
The cat’s eyes disappear
Into the dark void

On the left they illuminate red
Evenly spaced, appearing closer
Together in the distance
Until they just vanish

Yet they are ever present

Vive Les Rosbifs

Upon the occasion of Bradley Wiggins becoming the first Englishman to win the Tour de France in its 109 year history

In a blur of whirring spokes he did it
Defeating the French on their home soil
As Henry v had done before at Agincourt
His lamb chop sideburns taunting them

But in this hundred years war
Of cycling endurance
The King and Queens’ men
Had been found wanting
Until now

It was his turn to burn
Dans le maillot jaune
Leaving the peleton,
Long gone
Gasping in his wake

Three weeks in the saddle, across a nation it straddles
From Nice to the Pyrenees
From Epernay to the Champs Elysee
To reach the final summit

No tacks could puncture his ambition
No slope could flatten his spirit
As England now adores Le Tour
La France rises to celebrate his name
With “Allez Wiggo”, and a glass of champagne

Daybreak

A clear light brightened the dark water
Promising warmth to frost bitten stone
Teach me to hear the mermaids sing
The flapping beat of a dragon’s wing

Innocence is closing up his eyes
As clenched hands deal the final blow
Now at the last gasp of loves’ latest breath
Her farewell lingers on the morning breeze

I have completed what you desired
The deed is done, to be judged by God and eternity

Floor Tile ,Circa 16th century, Polesworth Abbey Dig

Solitary in kiln baked symmetry
Your underside bears the wounds
Of mortar roots, roughly torn from its bed
Sunlight sparkles over fractured veins
Remnants of green glaze, defiantly glisten

A fleur- de- lis splays for those
Who have fought, worked and prayed
In service to regents, long gone and yet to be
Exhumed to daylight glare
In fragmentary reveal

Your ridged recesses betray
Uncertain colours, long lost, in matt surround
An abused, bruised corner reluctantly flakes
But precise smooth sheer edges define your purpose
Your subterranean russet clay cries

To be interred, once more
From whence you came, in place.

The Archaeologist

Ask the time- and they look somewhat shifty
It could never be simply seven fifty
With their hats, beards and boots
In search of old loot
To them it is always 1950.

Don’t Touch

The ripped surface drops in sheer sondage
Cloying clay smearing my outstretched palm

Tough and tantalisingly moist unyielding
Its secrets held absorbed congealed
A slippery residue resists exploring touch

Brittle flaking sand flickers
Disintegrating from casual brush
Escaping my flaying grasp
To rest again

Light ash cushions tennis ball bounce no more
Unnatural vertical smooth rough textures teeter
Precipitously clinging

In varying degrees of decomposition
In abandonment

Stripped
Exposed to brutal light
Soft layers stripped in stripes
As cruel steel tears at healed ground

Delicate roots dangle, ripped
A torn comfort blanket, rumpled
Ruptured, crumpled

The disturbed interred
Shrinking and blinking
Glanced at in curiosity
In startled exposure

Defiled and painted in India ink
Remembered for a moment
In a catalogue, in a drawer
To be discarded ,its decay
Untroubled once more

Fragments Out of Time

The gabble from behind the Red Lion’s shut door reverberated
Stella clenched in hands rotund and stumpy
Allowing men to forget in meditations of excess
To loose the bonds of the accused , searching for soft peace
The bell tolls for all ghostly and bodily victories
Bringing light to the blind
Robbed of foolish painted things
To still survive in immortal song
Leaving echoes of Welsh hooves
Steadfast in the High Street
By his help and grace it is done

Timeless Flight

Roughly fired tiles still bake careless paw prints
Eager hands claw tense ground

From above glanced from grey heron path
Pedalling across an indifferent sky

White lily pads flutter in canvas murmur
Hinting at shadowed movement

Walls hunch hidden from Viking glare
Still crouched in silence

Enclosure breached by betrayed vows
No magnificat rises from stubby rubble

Earth which now takes no service only hears it
Absorbing fresh dead

Whilst rent ground lays bare
What we already knew once

Discarded

Spoil fed giant thistles sway,
Guardian sentinels of the past

Below ,black tarpaulin frays,
Under spewed weight
Its fringe like artificial whiskers
Touching now and then

Hanging off its pink painted axle
A plastic wheel rests
Almost consumed by weeds and nettles
In fading farewell

Palm up, a glove’s fingers stretch
Its ripped fabric partially enveloped

All lie waiting to be discovered

Archaeology

Find or fraud
Inside or outside
Above or below
This way or that
Now or then
It all depends

Wheel

Trenches radiate around
In pronounced symmetry

Ground lies punctured
By spade and trowel

The Abbey watches, hub to all
Where nuns seldom spoke

Diggers make inflated claims
For uncertain finds

Watching where they tread
Shoulders hunched and tired

Earth sand and robber rubble
Is turned once more

Whilst those who till the land
Pray for a good year.

Found in a Pit

I-phones, I – pads, I –mmac
To be cherished for a moment
For transitory gratification
Before technological stratification
Is assessed

X-Box
Commodore
Game Boy
ZX Spectrum

Whose exact order may be lost
Does Super Mario come before Lara Croft?

Flat screens larger than windows
Windows from which you could see
But not touch
A vision distorted
Of cracked glass
And broken discordant keys

The Roofers’ Dog
Paw prints from the past
Baked frozen by midday sun
An unwelcome feat

Pit Tip

Giant thistles sway
Wild sentinels of the past
Hover restlessly

Lost Foundation

Dormitory walls
Whispering prayers and secrets
In stony silence

Fleur de Lis Tile

Fading glazing now
Still bearing witness to those
Who worked fought and prayed

Line Call

Grey ash packed strata
Hears, no longer takes, service
Echoing above

Refectory Hearth

Stone fireplace keeps watch
Poets’ words flame and flicker
Their work not yet Donne

Sandals

Lost just underfoot
Simple sandals tap softly
But now there are none

The Dig

Nights’ shadows draw in
Dancing like crazy mourners
Over opened pits

Oak Lintel at the Stables

Your shoulders still strain
Under the weight of centuries
With well seasoned wood

The River Anker

Wrenched this way and that
To suit human caprice, the
Anker meanders

Bone Fragments

Reborn to light’s glare
Exhumed from dark interment
Cruel resurrection

Shattered Pottery

Random broken shard
Irregular memento
Your sharpness cuts deep

Dress Pin

Bronze dress pin dropped lost
Cast adrift from flowing robe
Recovered in awe

Font

Stone Baptismal font
Defaced by fragment’ry loss
Unquenched by water

Effigy

Osanna lies still
Hair smoothed by pilgrim’s touch
Bible tightly clasped

Polesworth Abbey

Ancient
Stones linger still
Held in forgotten walls
Amongst earthy robber rubble
Waiting

Egbert
Mercian king
Rested, then settled here
His divine, precious legacy
A saint

Ora
Proud devotion
Returns, a heard unheard
Whispering in lavender leaves
Once more

Fireplace
Still burning bright
Drayton Johnson and Donne
Whose omnipresent oration
Endures

Abbey
Weathered and worn
Closed enclosure now breached
Dissolution could not dissolve
Your stones

The Dig Pt 2

Nature’s fine weave lies breached
Brutal hands scour below
In ghoulish exhumation
In ground at rest no more

Each day the pits grow
Earth’s belly spewing its guts
Half, barely digested
Splattered over tables

The Anker washes silently by
Salving, cleansing its wounds
Of the twisting distorting agonies of centuries
Its course only now restored

A holy site, visited by saints
Gouged and disfigured
For us to read its entrails
In detached curiosity

Where nuns once keened
Where oblations once soared
Now the dull thud of spade in dirt
Now the shrill trill of trowel on find

Around the borders, patient trees watch
Boughs bursting with leaves
Waiting for their moment
They will not be denied

Upon the Exhumation of a Dress Pin circa 700 AD.

A bronze dress pin appears in the ground
Two World Wars resound
Queen Victoria’s Empire gains pre-eminence
American War of Independence
Guy Fawkes fails and pays the price
Leonardo Da Vinci dies
Christopher Columbus discovers the New world
Chaucer ‘s Canterbury Tales are unfurled
Genghis Khan’s Mongols rise again
Notre Dame dominates the river Seine
The walls of the Tower of London soar
Bears in Britain are now no more
The end comes for Alfred the Great
Vikings storm Lindisfarne to pillage and take
Osanna’s nunnery kissed by the waterside
The Anker’s flow slips and slides

The Anker’s flow slips and slides
Osanna’s nunnery kissed by the waterside
The Vikings storm Lindisfarne to pillage and take
The end comes for Alfred the Great
Bears in Britain are now no more
The walls of the Tower of London soar
Notre Dame dominates the River Seine
Genghis Khan’s Mongols rise again
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales unfurled
Christopher Columbus discovers the New World
Leonardo Da Vinci dies
Guy Fawkes fails and pays the price
American War of Independence
Queen Victoria’s Empire gains pre-eminence
Two World Wars resound
A bronze dress pin appears in the ground.

The Dig Part Three

Your face yields few clues
Except when you frown
And the wrinkles become rivulets
For sweat and tears
Which scour your skin
At once soft and hard
A pentimento exposed

Gouged, the detritus of years laid bare,
Discarded memories, cherished days
Disturbed and disjointed from where
They once laid, resting in situ

Sometimes they surface, disinterred
To be examined, dated, reassessed
Then reburied, if you are fortunate
Snug and neat

Sometimes they emerge broken
Disfigured from an uncertain time
Jagged, rough, still bleeding
Impossible to return, they just don’t fit

Others taunt, fraud or find
Their uncertain provenance
Seducing with specious allure
Wanting to be whatever you desire

And some lie rotting, barely recognisable
Half remembered only by their juxtaposition
With the rest, distorted and uncertain
Fading in decomposition

Remnants
What will survive of us?
A snapped twig crushed underfoot
On a woodland walk
Displaced grains of sand
Compressed by the imprint of our sole
Bruised wood on a door shoved open
And the torn peel
From a half-eaten apple


Discovered After I Am Gone

They found bones stripped of corpulent flesh
Rubbery composite tread
Abandoned by perished leather – size nine
Molars rough tended by dentists
Zip teeth grin in death grip
Eleven sixteen
A watch of cheap inconsequential value
Which was worn on that day not for its lustre
But for the value of the giving

Find

The Football grounds of England Wales and Scotland by Simon Inglis
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars by David Bowie
A grain of sand from Caswell beach
A Canaletto oil painting of La Canal Grande
A Pen
Hope

Fragments

At 6.32 Venice is quite still
Even the morning breeze holds her breath
Lest the sunlit beauty be disturbed
Or a ripple appear on the Grand Canal
No bird dare sing
In fear, in wonder

It appeared, a giant wall of black steel
Towering, defying the largest wave
Or coldest iceberg
To challenge her riveted wonder
A benevolent behemoth calling
To cradle me in her carcass

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Dig The Abbey – Part Four


Day seven, and our workshops of exploration drew to a close with a familiar , faithful retinue of regular poets in attendance sprinkled with some occasional visitors. The atmosphere was akin to that on a ship on the day of disembarkation, with an acknowledgement that the journey was nearing its end, and a desire to make sure that we made the most of the last few hours on board.

Our pilot for this final leg was poet, former archaeologist and canal skipper Jo Bell. By chance, as our journey was closing, so hers was beginning, as this was her first day divested of her responsibilities as Director of National Poetry Day. The entire poetic community in the country owes a debt to Jo who over several years has led national poetry day with enthusiasm, vigour and vim. She hands it over in rude health, and if the day is a pointer, has energy to spare as she applies the skills which made her past tenure such a success on new challenges and opportunities. We wish her well.

Jo Bell

I am, through experience, wary of workshops. Wary of poor leadership and poor value. Jo operates at the polar opposite of this scale. Organised, inspirational and focussed, she sets a demanding pace within an empowering framework designed to motivate, encourage and enable. I was astonished and delighted that the usual “I’m no good at writing in workshops/ this isn’t really finished” excuse train was banished to the sidings resulting in consistently impressive pieces being produced during ten minute exercises. Why settle for less?

Previous workshops had majored on fieldwork, touching, feeling, smelling, seeing, hearing and experiencing the archaeology first hand. Jo took a more cerebral approach asking us to consider archaeology as a metaphor for our existence. What six items might be buried with us to reflect our lives?:

Find

The Football grounds of England Wales and Scotland by Simon Inglis
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars by David Bowie
A grain of sand from Caswell beach
A Canaletto oil painting of La Canal Grande
A Pen
Hope

I liked the numeric restriction, the random selection of items, and the lack of ability to explain and expand upon their choice. They are what they are, just as archaeological finds appear without explanation leaving the finder to fill in the gaps. Six items, make of them what you will.

Next followed the question of what would remain of us if we died here and now, in Pompei style pyroclastic freeze-frame. It was a clever question, for it was immediate, it could not be written later, what would be left if we were to die now? It was a sobering thought, no grand designs, just the grey of haphazard ephemera:

Discovered After I Am Gone

They found bones stripped of corpulent flesh
Rubbery composite tread
Abandoned by perished leather – size nine
Molars rough tended by dentists
Zip teeth grin in death grip
Eleven sixteen
A watch of cheap inconsequential value
Which was worn on that day not for its lustre
But for the value of the giving

A lottery style draw of phrases and sentences to inspire and provoke produced a fortunate result as I drew Philip Larkin’s “What will survive of us………” which felt a natural progression from the previous exercise. Inevitably my mind raced into metaphysical contemplation, yet I rapidly found myself swamped in cliché and cod philosophy. John Donne , who had written and performed in that very room seemed to be cautioning ;“Don’t- unless its bloody good” (It wasn’t). But what if I were to answer the question counter-intuitively?:

Remnants

What will survive of us?
A snapped twig crushed underfoot
On a woodland walk
Displaced grains of sand
Compressed by the imprint of our sole
Bruised wood on a door shoved open
And the torn peel
From a half-eaten apple

When a site is excavated the location of the trenches and the depth dug are arbitrary – as are the finds. This poem mirrors that in snatches of my life:

Fragments

At 6.32 Venice is quite still
Even the morning breeze holds her breath
Lest the sunlit beauty be disturbed
Or a ripple appear on the Grand Canal
No bird dare sing
In fear, in wonder

It appeared, a giant wall of black steel
Towering, defying the largest wave
Or coldest iceberg
To challenge her riveted wonder
A benevolent behemoth calling
To cradle me in her carcass

More generally, the site, and dig has prompted me to see parallels between physical archaeology buried in the ground, and the cerebral emotional archaeology lying layered in our souls by experience and time. They were more closely related than I at first thought:

The Dig

Your face yields few clues
Except when you frown
And the wrinkles become rivulets
For sweat and tears
Which scour your skin
At once soft and hard
A pentimento exposed

Gouged, the detritus of years laid bare,
Discarded memories, cherished days
Disturbed and disjointed from where
They once laid, resting in situ

Sometimes they surface, disinterred
To be examined, dated, reassessed
Then reburied, if you are fortunate
Snug and neat

Sometimes they emerge broken
Disfigured from an uncertain time
Jagged, rough, still bleeding
Impossible to return, they just don’t fit

Others taunt, fraud or find
Their uncertain provenance
Seducing with specious allure
Wanting to be whatever you desire

And some lie rotting, barely recognisable
Half remembered only by their juxtaposition
With the rest, distorted and uncertain
Fading in decomposition

Which just about wraps up my writing, and experiences ,at the Polesworth Dig, 2012. The ground soon to be backfilled, what has been glimpsed for the first time in up to thirteen hundred years, maybe up to two thousand years, returned to darkness. A heritage day presentation of the groups’ writing, and Dig finds, takes place on Saturday the 8th, at the Abbey at 2pm.

But I cannot resist a postscript. This blog is read by over 1500 people a month, but the following, self –indulgently , will make sense to only perhaps two dozen people. This is a tribute to one of our senior group writers, Ray Jolland, a dignified, humble and talented writer who illuminated the sessions with his humour – and his songs. Thanks Ray:

Riff to Ray Jolland

If you like to dig, I tell you Ray’s your man
You win some, you lose some, it depends what’s in your pan

Ray’s the Ace of Spades,
Ray’s the Ace of spades

The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say
If you tell him to write stuff, about old things and muck
He doesn’t give a fig, you’ll be right out of luck

Ray’s The Ace Of Spades
Ray’s The Ace Of Spades

He always knows the score, he’s been there long before
Writing without rhyme, is always such a crime
He’s the king of poetry and archaeology
The only thing you’ll see, you know it’s gonna be,

Ray’s The Ace Of Spades
Ray’s The Ace Of Spades

He can say it in a song
Coz blank verse is so wrong

Ray’s The Ace Of Spades
Ray’s The Ace Of Spades

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Hullabaloo Festival, Cheltenham

Main Stage

This is a new festival which ran over the Bank Holiday Weekend at Burley Fields Lake with a full range of music on the main stage . Performance and arts activities were provided for in a tent for poetry on each of the three days organised by Nick Short and Anna Saunders from the Cheltenham Poetry Festival. The first thing that struck me was the friendly vibe, with the majority of people camping rather than using day tickets. Inevitably ,with the weather changeable, there was the ubiquitous festival mud.

One of the pleasures of travelling further afield is taking in new performers, and one stood out as the best of Saturday night, and amongst the most exciting emerging poetic talents of the year, Joy-Amy Wigman. Flame haired and oozing attitude and personality she dominated the stage with a well rehearsed set. Toy Boys defiantly celebrated the joys of the younger man for the older woman, whilst Dismay was a brilliant satirical dissection of Fifty Shades of Grey. Joy- Amy recently came runner up to Brenda Read- Brown as poet laureate for Gloucester, 2012/13, and I am sure we will be hearing much more from her.

Dan Cooper performed a shortish set of stream of consciousness material which was a shame, as I would have liked to have heard more. Opening the evening had been Guy Williams whose material was diverse and interesting but whose set was a little unfocussed. Cookery Programmes and Porn was his best, Don’t You Hate it When That Happens overworked a nice idea.

I love poetry at Festivals. The audience will always be a mix of the curious and committed with the discipline of having to perform material which engage and delights, otherwise the audience wonders off, a test which is character building and instructive. The tent itself was about the best place to perform in, covered, warm and dry, straw ensured the floor was secure underfoot and kept the mud nicely at bay, the sound system was fine and the lights work during the day too! The roster of poetes scheduled to appear on Sunday and Monday augurs well for the commitment of the organisers to spoken word performance.

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Dig the Abbey – Part Three

With just two sessions left there is a sense of being on the home straight now. On the one hand the site is now quite familiar, on the other there always seems to be something new to write about or explore. One aspect of the Dig had been troubling me – how to convey the length of history which has been associated with the place. The Abbey itself dates from 827AD, the settlement predating that. A dress pin dating from the 8th century was discovered last week . Thinking about all the things which had not happened when it was first made, and worn, stretches and defies the imagination. Trying to write a poem which reflects that, taking in some one thousand three hundred years, concisely, is no easy task. I made a number of attempts, but all were swamped by the scale of time I was trying to encompass. Then good fortune intervened.

A poet whom I have met, and rate, Kim Moore, mentioned that she had met Julia Copus who had created a specific poetic form, the specular, which requires that from the mid -point of the poem every word contained up to that point must be used in the reverse order, although the punctuation may be varied in order for the structure to make sense. It is a hybrid of the musical concept of the cancrizan, but in literary form. Its ability to start at a point, go backwards, or forwards, and then return back to the start had obvious potential when it came to writing about an archaeological find which inevitably takes you back in time, but demands to be considered in a contemporary context.

My first attempt involved devoting a single line to every century that had passed between when the pin was made, and had then been found again, each line representing a line of historical strata. The result was satisfactory but suffered a few drawbacks. Firstly it became a list poem, secondly, as a consequence it was a bit dry and boring. My solution was to produce rhyming couplets which offered some specific advantages. The rhyming couplets became more interesting, and became linked, as time and events are linked. They also offered a sense of pace and rhythm. Last but not least it creates a brand new form of its own – the rhyming specular!

By common consent the specular is not an easy form to write in, so finding a subject for which it offered a device solution was most welcome. It works.I suspect it also has potential for dealing retrospectively with relationships, but that is for another day. For now, here is the world’s first rhyming specular:

Upon the Exhumation of an 8th Century Dress Pin .

A bronze dress pin appears in the ground
Two World Wars resound
Queen Victoria’s Empire gains pre-eminence
American War of Independence
Guy Fawkes fails and pays the price
Leonardo Da Vinci dies
Christopher Columbus discovers the New world
Chaucer ‘s Canterbury Tales are unfurled
Genghis Khan’s Mongols rise again
Notre Dame dominates the river Seine
The walls of the Tower of London soar
Bears in Britain are now no more
The end comes for Alfred the Great
Vikings storm Lindisfarne to pillage and take
Osanna’s nunnery kissed by the waterside
The Anker’s flow slips and slides

The Anker’s flow slips and slides
Osanna’s nunnery kissed by the waterside
The Vikings storm Lindisfarne to pillage and take
The end comes for Alfred the Great
Bears in Britain are now no more
The walls of the Tower of London soar
Notre Dame dominates the River Seine
Genghis Khan’s Mongols rise again
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales unfurled
Christopher Columbus discovers the New World
Leonardo Da Vinci dies
Guy Fawkes fails and pays the price
American War of Independence
Queen Victoria’s Empire gains pre-eminence
Two World Wars resound
A bronze dress pin appears in the ground.

The Abbey itself positively oozes stories, some tantalisingly hinted at. A highly polished bronze plaque commemorates Lieutenant W. R Hill who died in World War One in 1918, but on the sixth of November, just five days before the end of the war, in Straslund prisoner of war camp, on Danholm island in the Baltic. How, and of what, is not clear. He also was the holder of the Military Cross, with bar, but again the circumstances are unknown. He attended Oakham School and won an exhibition to Corpus Christi college in Cambridge, so he came from a wealthy family was clever and brave. Intrigue and mystery is not exclusive to turned ground.

Day six was led by novelist Maeve Clarke, and for the first time we were given a guided tour of the gatehouse . The porters lodge was both cramped and cosy, his sense of power, determining who gained admission to the Abbey grounds, and who did not, was palpable.

Maeve tapped intot he spirit of story by asking us to create a back story to some of the items found in the “finds” box. Charlie Jordan and I were fortunate to have a partially damaged floor tile, and soon our imaginations ran wild:

Tile

It was discarded fractured
Now merely evidence with
Unseen fingerprints clinging
To crumbling mortar
The heat of raging palm long gone

It smells of nothing
No trace of the stench of revenge
Disfigured, the broken image of a cross
Rests uncertainly
Flaking edges eroding its purpose

Only one workshop remains, that of poet and archaeologist Jo Bell. It promises much.

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Dig the Abbey – Part Two

I had not intended to blog on just one day at the Dig , but day five produced so many poems that it made sense to do so. This session was led by Jacqui Rowe and any fears I had that the creative inspiration emanating from the site would be sapped by over -familiarity were soon allayed by Jacqui’s enthusiastic and different approach ,which was to build the session around haiku.

I have ambivalent feelings towards haiku, reservations which I was pleased to hear Jacqui share. The Japanese haiku and English language haiku are not the same at all, the latter being a hybrid . In my experience, as a performance form, its brevity offers little lasting impact. Furthermore I find joined haiku in sequence rarely satisfying. However they are very good at two things. Firstly they enable simple ideas to be conveyed in condensed complete form, and the discipline of doing so often provides the seed corn for other writing.

I enjoyed playing with Polesworth haiku nonethless. The opportunity to have fun with homophones in Refectory Hearth, The Roofers’ Dog and Sandals was too good to miss, as was the opportunity in Water Course to artificially play with the punctuation in the same way that the course of the Anker has been altered by man.

The Roofers’ Dog

Paw prints from the past
Baked frozen by midday sun
An unwelcome feat

Pit Tip

Giant thistles sway
Wild sentinels of the past
Hover restlessly

Lost Foundation

Dormitory walls
Whispering prayers and secrets
In stony silence

Fleur de Lis Tile

Fading glazing now
Still bearing witness to those
Who worked fought and prayed

Line Call

Grey ash packed strata
Hears, no longer takes, service
Echoing above

Refectory Hearth

Stone fireplace keeps watch
Poets’ words flame and flicker
Their work not yet Donne

The Dig

Nights’ shadows draw in
Dancing like crazy mourners
Over opened pits

Oak Lintel at the Stables

Your shoulders still strain
Under the weight of centuries
With well seasoned wood

Water Course

Wrenched this way and that
To suit, human caprice, the
Anker meanders

Bone Fragments

Reborn to light’s glare
Exhumed from dark interment
Cruel resurrection

Shattered Pottery

Random broken shard
Irregular memento
Your sharpness cuts deep

Font

Stone Baptismal font
Defaced by fragment’ry loss
Unquenched by water

Effigy

Osanna lies still
Hair smoothed by pilgrim’s touch
Bible tightly clasped

The star find of the week had been a dress pin estimated to date from around 700 AD. Trying to grasp what had not happened or been discovered over 1300 years ago is mind stretching. An era before the Viking raids , and when Aethelbert of Kent and Edwin of Northumbria dominated as the threats to the local Mercian Kingdom, a time when Beowulf was being written, and this artefact emerges untouched since then.

Dress Pin

Bronze dress pin dropped lost
Cast adrift from flowing robe
Recovered in awe

Ironically, ideas which I explored in haiku form I found I could express more completely and rewardingly in Cinqaine form, an example of which will follow. The cinqaine only offers an extra four syllables and two lines but I find is a killer vehicle to deal with place writing.

I like cinqaines. I like the way they look. I like their brevity and their capacity to say just enough, Twitter is self indulgent by comparison. A particular feature is the ease with which cinquaines can bolt together five subjects. It works. Do places need more than five pints of interest in a poem? I don’t think so, and the symmetry of five lots of five lines covering five subjects appeals. When you have finished, it feels like the end. Six cinquaines in sequence would simply not feel right.

Polesworth Abbey

Ancient
Stones linger still
Held in forgotten walls
Amongst earthy robber rubble
Waiting

Egbert
Mercian king
Rested, then settled here
His divine, precious legacy
A saint

Ora
Proud devotion
Returns, a heard unheard
Whispering in lavender leaves
Once more

Fireplace
Still burning bright
Drayton Johnson and Donne
Whose omnipresent oration
Endures

Abbey
Weathered and worn
Closed enclosure now breached
Dissolution could not dissolve
Your stones

The second exercise of the day was to decorate tiles and then place a selected Haiku or phrase onto the tile. A few things emerged from the exercise. The first was how little of the written word survives in archaeology, the second was the sense of value that decorating the word bearing tile affords. In the modern era of computer blogs , e mails and texts how much of what is written will survive ( or deserve to)? Just maybe we should bury these tiles to be discovered in another 1300 years time. I wonder what the world will look like then?

This is the haiku which adorns my tile the bottom centre one with the newspaper images of religious figures praying.

Sandals

Lost just underfoot
Simple sandals tap softly
But now there are none

The workshop leader of Day One, David Calcutt has written a fine poem on Polesworth called “Dig”. I frequently find inspiration in reaction to the writing of others. David’s take is essentially a naturalistic one, mine explores a different perspective, that of the destruction that is required to recover the past in archaeology.

The Dig

Nature’s fine weave lies breached
Brutal hands scour below
In ghoulish exhumation
In ground at rest no more

Each day the pits grow
Earth’s belly spewing its guts
Half, barely digested
Splattered over tables

The Anker washes silently by
Salving, cleansing its wounds
Of the twisting distorting agonies of centuries
Its course only now restored

A holy site, visited by saints
Gouged and disfigured
For us to read its entrails
In detached curiosity

Where nuns once keened
Where oblations once soared
Now the dull thud of spade in dirt
Now the shrill trill of trowel on find

Around the borders, patient trees watch
Boughs bursting with leaves
Waiting for their moment
They will not be denied

Dig the Abbey and Dig the Poetry continues until 1st September. An exhibition will take place displaying the story of the dig and finds, and the prose and poetry which resulted a week later between the 7th-9th with readings on Saturday 8th in the afternoon. Workshops are still to be run by Maeve Clarke and Jo Bell For more information:

http://www.digtheabbey.co.uk/dtp2012.html

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Mee Club , Cabaret and Variety Night, Kitchen Garden Cafe, Kings Heath

Host Cat Wetherill tells the story of Camille

The Mee Club is a relatively new venture, this was its second night, offering a safe and sophisticated singles night out, running fortnightly on a Tuesday evening. Hosted by the vivacious and ebullient Cat Wetherill ,it showcases musicians, storytellers, actors, poets, authors and comics ( I am sure even more diverse performers will follow) to entertain in a relaxed convivial atmosphere of food, drink and socialising. Cat herself opened up proceedings with the racy story of the Parisian courtesan Camille. It was an object lesson in good story telling, consummately performed, richly told with a nod and a wink, and with a satisfying twist. She set quite a standard. Fortunately fellow storyteller A Ryan Jones was more than up to the task.

A Ryan Jones – Sublime American Storyteller

Ryan is a young American from Wyoming, shortly to return Stateside, who has been developing her storytelling skills in Birmingham whilst studying here. Our loss is America’s gain. She delighted the audience with her versatility and deeply human delivery. Opening with the tale of the blind meadowlark, a traditional story, she seamlessly broadened it to encompass her experiences of leaving her parochial hometown to spread her own wings. Her narrative carried a wisdom far beyond her years, a puzzle answered by her account of fireside camping storytelling as a child from across the generations, and how she both cherished those nights and learned from them. Her style is reserved and understated, her choice of words lavish and emotive. It really was quite a combination.

The author for the evening, Geoffrey Iley , had travelled considerably less far, as he comes from Kings Heath! Reading an extract from his book Navegator, he offered the back story to the thriller based in Majorca before reading an extract from it. As a regular visitor to the island I can vouch for its sense of place, and purchasing a copy provides entry to a draw to win a free holiday there too. Another local was comedian and poet Laurence Inman whose dry, laconic demeanour was a delight, not least when reflecting on his time teaching ungrateful students English. Rounding the evening off was musical duo Farcical comprising Sally Stamford, aka the Lemonade Lady ,and Arthur Hyde. A contemporary folk outfit based in Herefordshire , they combined folk and traditional songs with a smile, skill, and lovely harmonies, all delivered with gusto.

The Mee Club next meets on Tuesday 4th September, doors and food from 6.30pm, cabaret from 7.30pm with a bill that includes Festival favourite poet Amy Rainbow. For more information on future Mee Clubs: http://www.kitchengardencafe.co.uk/events.php?pid=main

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/TheMeeClub

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Kick Off, Boars Head, Kidderminster

The presentation of spoken word continues to evolve, “Kick Off”, is a Kidderminster Arts Festival production , conceived to promote poetry within the context of the opening of the new football season and appeal to an audience outside the usual poetry crowd as a warm up festival event. Team captains were Mouth & Music stalwarts Heather Wastie ,and Sarah Tamar, who assembled an elite group of footballing poetic talent to showcase the evening. It was bonkers. It was wonderful.

Turf was laid out on the stage, a goal and giant football was produced, and a full supporting cast of referee and linesman, VIP to present the trophy, and a chicken mascot were all duly assembled. Poetry isn’t normally like this. Blatant time-wasting was denounced, and poets suffered pulled hamstrings and groin strains during reading. Furthermore there were several obvious examples of shirt pulling ( all were in football kit) that the linesman and referee appeared to allow to go unpunished.

The crowd were part of the show. Kate Wragg bought along her guitar to assist with some football songs and two wags were on hand to assist the players! What worked so well was that the poems were performed within the framework of the match all on a football theme which Maggie Doyle and Sarah James all warmed to brilliantly. Inevitably Fergus McGonigal played a little fast and loose with the theme, choosing to take the music that is played at half time as his football inspiration, but naturally found the poetic net nonetheless with his dribbling skills which are so educated, I swear that his left foot talks Latin…………….

The material performed was not just light, Carol Ann Duffy’s Achilles impressed as did original work Me Watching Men by Sarah Tamar and Voices in the Crowd by Heather Wastie. What was so heart warming was the camaraderie between players and crowd with the support of Boars Head staff Corina Harper and Sandra. It takes courage to try something different and determination , skill and enthusiasm to pull it off – which is exactly what was achieved.

The Kidderminster Arts Festival runs, led by Loz Samuels, until 25th August. More details: http://www.wyreforestdc.gov.uk/cms/non-lgnl-pages/community-and-partnership-serv/arts-and-play-development/kaf.aspx

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Dig the Abbey – Part One


Polesworth Abbey, Polesworth,North Warwickshire near Tamworth, is enjoying a two month “time team” style dig in which part of it is being excavated and investigated, before the ground is reinstated again. Running parallel with the dig are a series of poetry workshops to give the forensic cataloguing a voice, a project I gladly signed up to. With over a thousand years of history behind it there is no shortage of inspiration for a writer, as Donne, Drayton and Ben Jonson were inspired on site centuries before.

Day One

David Calcutt

David Calcutt led the first session with the aim of giving a voice to artefacts which have been discovered, from shards of pottery, to medieval floor tiles. David loves myths and legends and revelled in the opportunity to operate in his milieu. By means of stimulation, he placed lines of prose and verse authored by Donne, Drayton and an unknown monk in front of us to respond to, seeking to draw the historic voice out of us all. The resulting intertextualisation was far more effective than I supposed it would be.

Initially I felt uneasy about plagiarising half a poem, then I remembered Eliots’ Wasteland ,and all those pop songs which happily borrowed lyrics and musical phrases from elsewhere, and reconsidered my position, adopting the critics basic maxim. Is it any good? To my surprise I ended up with a piece which I found satisfying , as a narrative emerged from the line fragments I was offered. To what extent I was fortunate in being inspired by the first fragment allowing me to mould what followed thereafter, and to what extent, by serendipity, the fragments offered a random framework, I am not sure, but the result was something I would never have written on my own, nor was it overtly the work of a third party.

There were three trenches. The first quite shallow, behind the refectory, but in which medieval floor tiles had been recovered in situ, the second deeper and closer to the river, a third , “Area A”,in front of the Abbey by the old stable block had unearthed a mysterious bored fragment as we visited,later believed to have been part of a gaming board.

Daybreak

A clear light brightened the dark water
Promising warmth to frost bitten stone
Teach me to hear the mermaids sing
The flapping beat of a dragon’s wing

Innocence is closing up his eyes
As clenched hands deal the final blow
Now at the last gasp of loves’ latest breath
Her farewell lingers on the morning breeze

I have completed what you desired
The deed is done, to be judged by God and eternity

My first experience of a dig was fascinating. The male archaeologists sported beards and Indiana Jones style hats in joyful stereotype. Excavating apparatus ranged from mechanical digger through to hand trowels. What surprised me was the volume of historical detritus that was being uncovered, and how it all had to be meticulously catalogued, irrespective of obvious value. A roof tile with a dog’s footprint on it delighted as did a floor tile with a fleur di lis motif which certainly predated 1542, the latter of which I was moved to write about:

Floor Tile ,Circa 16th century, Polesworth Abbey Dig

Solitary in kiln baked symmetry
Your underside bears the wounds
Of mortar roots, roughly torn from its bed
Sunlight sparkles over fractured veins
Remnants of green glaze, defiantly glisten

A fleur- de- lis splays for those
Who have fought, worked and prayed
In service to regents, long gone and yet to be
Exhumed to daylight glare
In fragmentary reveal

Your ridged recesses betray
Uncertain colours, long lost, in matt surround
An abused, bruised corner reluctantly flakes
But precise smooth sheer edges define your purpose
Your subterranean russet clay cries

To be interred, once more
From whence you came, in place.

To wrap up the day we were invited to submit a limerick. I was surprised to discover that for archaeological purposes the present starts at 1950, which prompted the following:

The Archaeologist

Ask the time- and they look somewhat shifty
It could never be simply ten fifty
With their hats, beards and boots
In search of old loot
To them it is always 1950.

Day Two

Jenny Hope

A week on, I was interested to see how much progress there had been in physically excavating the site, and it had been considerable. This time Jenny Hope from Worcester was leading the day, and her focus was on experiencing the site using senses other than sight.Her poetry is at its best in celebrating the pastoral and the senses, and she brought those skills to the workshop. Each trench offers a geological, as well as an historic section of what has gone before.

One of the things which struck me was the physicality of the operation, trenches, trowels and trousers smeared with mud which prompted my first poem of the day.Normally any contact with the rare, unfound or undiscovered, is the cry “Don’t touch” but Jenny urged us to do the opposite, to touch- nice!:

Don’t Touch

The ripped surface drops in sheer sondage
Cloying clay smearing my outstretched palm

Tough and tantalisingly moist unyielding
Its secrets held absorbed congealed
A slippery residue resists exploring touch

Brittle flaking sand flickers
Disintegrating from casual brush
Escaping my flaying grasp
To rest again

Light ash cushions tennis ball bounce no more
Unnatural vertical smooth rough textures teeter
Precipitously clinging

In varying degrees of decomposition
In abandonment

Whilst I was there a visitor had complained that the dig was desecrating the site, an odd charge. Firstly, areas of known human burial wre not being touched this dig. Secondly any dicovery of human remains is treated with reverence and respect. And I suspect that if they could talk to us, they would be quite pleased to tell us their stories, stories which can be extrapolated to an extraordinary extent just by their remains, and their context.

Jenny Hope asked us to consider the dig in metaphor, as undressing the past, emphasising the tactile intimate nature of the task, a valuable interpretation of proceedings. Initially i was prompted to prompt the sensuous, sensual dimension of this approach. However as I did so, I was also struck by the visceral aspect of the dig which was reflected in this:

Stripped

Exposed to brutal light
Soft layers stripped in stripes
As cruel steel tears at healed ground

Delicate roots dangle, ripped
A torn comfort blanket, rumpled
Ruptured, crumpled

The disturbed interred
Shrinking and blinking
Glanced at in curiosity
In startled exposure

Defiled and painted in India ink
Remembered for a moment
In a catalogue, in a drawer
To be discarded ,its decay
Untroubled once more

Day 3

Mal Dewhirst

A non-digging day so the site was physically as the day before. Workshop leader this time was Mal Dewhirst whose angle today was to ask us to attempt to replicate the physical strata of the dig with stratification of our poetry drawing upon writing as recent as that written from the Polesworth Poetry Trail,which he had also led, and as distant as that authored in Medieval Latin. This first piece draws from random words and phrases from several hundred centuries and is pieced together by myself in the same way that finds are extracted from the ground whereupon the archaeologists subsequently try to piece together their history. It feels awkward to me, but then finds are made randomly and awkwardly too, so it had value as an exercise.

Fragments Out of Time

The gabble from behind the Red Lion’s shut door reverberated
Stella clenched in hands rotund and stumpy
Allowing men to forget in meditations of excess
To loose the bonds of the accused , searching for soft peace
The bell tolls for all ghostly and bodily victories
Bringing light to the blind
Robbed of foolish painted things
To still survive in immortal song
Leaving echoes of Welsh hooves
Steadfast in the High Street
By his help and grace it is done

I was starting to become familiar with the site by this time. And as the archaeologist becomes more familiar and confident with the dig so as a poet I found myself becoming more comfortable with my surroundings. To date, the weather has been uniformly good and as I wandered around outside a heron flew by looking down as it flew. Those familiar with the area will know that the river Anker and canal are close by with pools of standing water also present. I wondered what the heron would make of this as herons have glanced down for centuries on changing human development, but a broadly similar landscape. This poem was inspired both by the idea that the heron might mistake the white dig tents for lily pads from above and by the history that the herons forebears will have witnessed.

Timeless Flight

Roughly fired tiles still bake careless paw prints
Eager hands claw tense ground

From above glanced from grey heron path
Pedalling across an indifferent sky

White lily pads flutter in canvas murmur
Hinting at shadowed movement

Walls hunch hidden from Viking glare
Still crouched in silence

Enclosure breached by betrayed vows
No magnificat rises from stubby rubble

Earth which now takes no service only hears it
Absorbing fresh dead

Whilst rent ground lays bare
What we already knew once

Day 4

Matt Merritt

Another hot day, with the workshop this time being led by Matt Merritt who teased us with a mysterious strap line of “The Edge”.Matt is a journalist, ornithologist, historian and poet. Today he kept his curlews and swifts in their roosts and instead chose an original historical perspective on th day.

A week on, another shallow trench was underway , some six inches deep and with nothing revealed other than subsoil The trench containing the drain and lavatories had been pumped clear of water. Tim Upson Smith was visibly excited about what analysis of medieval excrement might reveal, as a toddler proudly announces to their parents while sitting on their potty “Look what I have done!.”

An established pattern for the extraction and cataloguing of finds is now clear, what interested us today was what was lying around that in the future might be excavated and pored over. A child’s perspective is always instructive, a plastic football left lying around providing recreation for the diggers is no different from any other find for a child. Was it the very football that Abbess Osanna had kicked some nine hundred years previous? “They are digging for treasure” one child exclaimed. Correct.

I began to look around for what had been discarded now, in the same way that the diggers were looking for what had been discarded before. The front trench was abutted by an old garden tip from which sprouted the largest thistles I have ever seen- at least around nine metres tall, a black nylon tarpaulin was being used to sift through some of the detritus and was wearing already, by the manor house the wheel from a child’s sit and ride toy lay in long grass next to a single glove. That was all good enough for me.

Discarded

Spoil fed giant thistles sway,
Guardian sentinels of the past

Below ,black tarpaulin frays,
Under spewed weight
Its fringe like artificial whiskers
Touching now and then

Hanging off its pink painted axle
A plastic wheel rests
Almost consumed by weeds and nettles
In fading farewell

Palm up, a glove’s fingers stretch
Its ripped fabric partially enveloped

All lie waiting to be discovered

My involvement in this dig has stirred my interest in, and awareness of, all things archaeological. Two stories caught my eye this week.

The first was the story of centuries old seeds being recovered from the sediment of Bristol Docks, the remnants of ballast discharged from ships trading over the centuries and this particular find some three hundred years old. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2184912/World-garden-grown-onboard-barge-seeds-discarded-Bristol-docks-300-YEARS-ago.html

The second was that of the death of the controversial British Archaeologist James Mellaart, a British archaeologist and author who is noted for his discovery of the Neolithic settlement of Çatalhöyük in Turkey. He was expelled from Turkey when he was suspected of involvement with the antiquities black market, specifically in the mysterious Dorak affair in which a mysterious woman met Mellaart on a train and purportedly took him to see a unknown find of world significance: http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/HL0508/S00224.htm

The former story echoed Tim Upson Smith’s love of delving through dirt, the latter belied any staid image that archaeologists might have for some. The uncertainty of most archaeology prompted:

Tim Upson Smith Gets Down and Dirty

Archaeology

Find or fraud
Inside or outside
Above or below
This way or that
Now or then
It all depends

As the day unfolded the significance of Matt Merritt’s “edge” unfolded. It comes from the Medieval and Anglo Saxon fondness for riddles where you may write around it, referring to it without revealing what the “it” of the title was. It is a useful way to prompt writing from a fresh perspective.

Wheel

Trenches radiate around
In pronounced symmetry

Ground lies punctured
By spade and trowel

The Abbey watches, hub to all
Where nuns seldom spoke

Diggers make inflated claims
For uncertain finds

Watching where they tread
Shoulders hunched and tired

Earth sand and robber rubble
Is turned once more

Whilst those who till the land
Pray for a good year.

What future archaeologists will make of 21st century detritus in a thousand year’s time is an intriguing thought, and one which caused me to consider how much of contemporary culture will survive, and what our future diggers will make of it. I could not resist the pun with the “I” generation and suspect that the windows play will certainly be lost, but who could resist including “Tomb Raider” “ Lara Croft from such a piece?

Found in a Pit

I-phones, I – pads, I –mmac
To be cherished for a moment
For transitory gratification
Before technological stratification
Is assessed

X-Box
Commodore
Game Boy
ZX Spectrum

Whose exact order may be lost
Does Super Mario come before Lara Croft?

Flat screens larger than windows
Windows from which you could see
But not touch
A vision distorted
Of cracked glass and
Broken discordant keys

Part two follows as the second half of the workshops after 1/9. Meantime i should like to record my thanks, appreciation and admiration to the archaeologists, volunteers and Fr. Phillip who have made all this possible with their good humour and hard work.

Dig the Abbey and Dig the Poetry continues until 1st September. An exhibition will take place displaying the story of the dig and finds, and the prose and poetry which resulted a week later between the 7th-9th with readings on Saturday 8th. For more information:

http://www.digtheabbey.co.uk/dtp2012.html

The Dig the Abbey Team

Posted in Blog | 5 Comments

Night Blue Fruit, Taylor Johns Vaults, Canal Basin, Coventry

Antony R Owen


Host Antony Owen, and sometime host Barry Patterson who was in the audience, do much to promote the poetic cause in Coventry as the context of this evening demonstrated. The night before had seen the launch of Tony’s Hiroshima Haiku exhibition at Coventry Cathedral, the following week two poets are to be sent to Cork as part of an ongoing cultural exchange.

The haiku exhibition is a contemporary fusion of eleven Haiku by Tony and photography by Daniel O’Toole to commemorate the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The exhibition runs from 3rd August to 31st August . The launch was attended by representatives of Hiroshima and Coventry Lord Mayor’s department for peace and reconciliation. There are several associated displays such as artwork from survivors recollections of Hiroshima .The Chapel of Unity , where the exhibition rests, is to the left as you enter through the main doors into the Cathedral.

War poetry is an awkward genre. The prolonged presence of British service personnel in Iraq and Afghanistan for over a decade means that civilian domestic awareness of war is particularly heightened. Yet the grisly mechanics of war and the attritional politics of it are matters that most choose not to dwell upon. Tony is as good a contemporary war poet as I have heard. Fat Man, about Churchill’s role in the bombing campaign evokes conflicting emotions in me , which is the point, and is one of Tony’s very best, cleverly juxtaposed this evening against Apathy, a poem of remembrance with its beautiful rhymes.

Night Blue Fruit’s two Cork delegates are Jayne Stanton and Janet Smith who both performed extended warm up sets for their readings next week. Janet’s poems offer the precision of the eye of a jeweller assembling a piece , with the lustre and glow that the buyer subsequently beholds. Scorify, Egg and Brushfoot enthralled, A Cry, The Hooded Children and Pacific were warmly received old friends. Jayne is particularly strong at light, assured reminiscence. Whether it is a 1960’s clothes dryer or a much loved grandmother, a warm glow surrounds her writing. She also showed herself adept at war writing too with her contribution to the Hiroshima theme, Black Orchids. We all look forwards to the results of the poetic inspiration which their visit to the Emerald isle will surely fire.

Young Irish poet David Lynch entertained with his punchy poems of the everyday, of which Doing the Dishes was my favourite. Barry Patterson also name checked Hiroshima with his piece on the Amchitka island, Alaska nuclear tests at which a bomb 385 times more powerful than the Hiroshima explosion was detonated . The counterpoint with his closing The Sky is Not an Atmosphere was probably unintentional. Staffordshire Poet Laureate short lister Tom Wyre followed the war theme with a familiar set, and customary aplomb, before Diane Hart recited a clever piece on Lady Godiva, clothed. Colin Dick wrapped the night up with an episodic epic of Spenserian proportion.

Night Blue Fruit next meets on Tuesday 4th September at 8pm, free in.

Gary Longden 7/8/12

Posted in Behind the Arras Reviews | 1 Comment