Perforation

Thousands of holes
Cling desperately
Together

Vertical line
Outwardly solid
Yet fragile

Invisible
They silently cry
Tear here

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Liz MacDonald

Farewell then Bev
Mother to Steve and Andy (where did he go?)
Wife of jailbird Jim
Proud matriarch
One time Queen of the street
Your abdication has shaken us
To your foundation.

No skirt was too short
No blouse too low.
Your earrings always dangled
Your smile always sparkled
Your advice was always better than your example
We wish (ed) you the happiness
You never quite found.

(Slightly) less brassy than Bet Lynch
(Alot) more glamorous than Annie Walker
The Rovers and the Street will miss
The rap of your heels on cobbled stones ( now gone)
And your humour-
Your reason for Jim’s tardiness?
“There must have been a hold up.”

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Words Fail Me

A medium Big Mac Meal
With coke
To eat in please
And that concludes my order

Was that medium or large?
What drink would like with that?
To eat in or take out?
Would you like anything else?

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Haiku’s for “Hope” Concert

Inundation
Swelling waves shatter
Spring’s promise cruelly broken
But buried bulbs wait

Magnitude Nine
Cracked earth cries out loud
Cold coda to winter’s stare
Silently waiting

Fukushima
Tiny droplets hang
Still crying over spilt milk
A nuclear spring

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RAF Finningley

My bicycle leaned
Against the fence
It had a bell
Just in time
They came

As Mulciber roared
Once so did they
Steel birds of death
Trembling
Wondrous

They soared by the rage
Of Olympus
With god-like grace
Hovering
On high

First gear took the strain
Of youthful push
Chain tightening
Wheel turning
Good bye

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Grounded

This was inspired by a true story I heard from the lips of the (foul-mouthed) miscreant

I can’t fucking believe it
The teacher told me to move
For no reason
“I’m not fucking moving” I said
But I was sent to the head
For fuck all
Then they rang my mom
And now I’m grounded too
What am I to do?

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Parole Parlate

Little Venice, St Nicholas St, Worcester
THIS monthly event has been attracting an increasing level of interest in recent months. A combination of a strong bill, curiosity, and a personal invitation from organiser Lisa Ventura moved me to check it out, and I was not disappointed.

The venue itself is a good one. Set on the first floor of an Italian restaurant, the space is airy, private, and has its own bar and toilet facilities, with the added advantage that a meal beforehand, or just a snack, are both to hand (the latter very difficult to resist!). The restaurant itself is located right in the middle of the City with several bustling pubs and car parking close by.

The first half was closed by Amanda Bonnick who offered an accomplished performance. She opened with “A Day in Art”, a very clever piece themed with artistic imagery, each reference having a resonance which no doubt varied according to the sensibilities of the listener. Intriguingly, she later revealed to me that it was a poem of which she was uncertain.
I thought it was her best work. One school of poetic thought suggests that heartfelt passion and emotion produces the best poetry, another that sometimes a more dispassionate, considered and deliberate approach works best. I found “A day in Art” meticulously composed and very satisfying. Amanda seemed determined to show her variety of poetic inspiration in her poem selection. “The Ballad of Cara” told of an encounter with an outwardly feral young teenager in a park whose eyes told a different story to her words.

MOVING DESCRIPTION
It was a sparse, moving description which echoed far beyond the page. Whether she was (amusingly) exploring the loneliness of Lane Swimming, the whimsy of the allure of shoes and of a little girl dressing up, or the natural majesty of a kingfisher in the wild, sharp observation, economically told, was her hallmark. The enthusiastic response from the audience was richly deserved.
Before her, Caroline Ferguson opened with strong material, the performance of which she should take time to evolve, as it can work much harder for her. Ddotti Bluebell is a very distinctive performer with a trademark delivery of a rap/sing-song tone. Her inspiration comes from personal experience including that of her brothers in “Nintendo”, or her struggles with her hair. Her confident delivery will have inspired other younger aspiring female poets in the room.

David Calcutt by contrast performed a single “narrative verse drama” entitled “The Desire of Women”. A bold and risky gambit, it was a triumph Witty, nuanced and very well told; it also benefited from a strong punch line.

After the break two young female poets caught the ear. Beth Edwards, imposing, confident and charismatic, went for powerful diversity. “I’m the Dealer” was a strong street piece, the “Plagiarism Poem” an enjoyable literary romp, “My Two Left Feet” a tender, emotional love poem. Laura Dedicote is more restrained in manner, but no less effective. Elegant and assured, her work with Spoz ( of which more in a minute) was evident with her “Cuts” poem, it is good to see that a political radical edge is apparent in today’s youth, and persuasively articulate she was too. Yet “Home” and “Secrets and Silence”, a teenage take on teenage life, were mature but authentic, and heart-warming, all at the same time.

INSPIRED SET
Opening the second half Neil Richard delighted with a “Ramones” inspired set in which he was able to recite about four times as many poems as anyone else in the same time slot! Short, sharp and edgy, Neil stood apart from all others, and was the better for it.
To close the evening we were entertained by a past and current Birmingham Poet Laureate. “Spoz” is a consummate performance poet. Engaging with the audience from the start, he galloped through “Brummie Rotunda”, an ode to Daisy Waugh, a raunchy homily to Miss Davies a school Science teacher, before giving us “fibre” advice with “Bad Diet”. Spoz has worked with John Cooper Clarke, and his poems often reflect the tone of Clarke’s work. Tonight I realised that he is starting to look like him too! Spoz’s humour and humanity went down a storm.

Last on was Roy MacFarlane whom I have seen performing on several occasions. Invariably strong, this was the best I have seen him. I suspect he would be pleased by my assessment that he defies conventional categorisation.
His skill lies in a remarkable ability to be inclusive in his work, whilst not hesitating to work with marginal subjects. He tackles Black heritage in an accessible way to all, his poems on fatherhood, motherhood and love ,( “I Wanna Walk With You “ is a delight) are warm and wry. But his middle section on injustice was the highlight of his set, and the evening, particularly with “Daily Bread”. A banker who met Roy at the gates of St Peter would be in for a VERY rough ride.

All of this was efficiently, confidently, and expertly overseen by the effervescent Lisa Ventura, who kept things moving, on time, but always ensured that her poets were the stars of the show .A full, enthusiastic, house was a just acknowledgement of her efforts. “Parole Parlate” next plays on Thursday, May 5th at 7.30pm.
07-04-11

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Desiderata

Her middle finger traced a perfect line
Sinking into a moist abyss
Her senses swam her eyes blurred
The always perfect kiss

Moving, rippling tingling cupped
A sensuous solo clinch
The grinding slow gyrating climb
Sweet agony of the pinch

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Women Only Slam

So Soul City Arts feel the need to run a “women only ” slam.How curious. In my experience more than half of Slam entrants are women anyway, and they regularly win. Why the need for exclusivity?

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Hunted

The tracker stoops
Eyes in a narrowed studied stare
Seeking what had passed,
And gone by there
A bruised blade of grass,
Perhaps a cracked twig
The faint imprint of heavy feet
Yet the final gasp
Leaves no trace

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