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Sunday Poem – Penelope Shuttle

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Sunday Poem – Penelope Shuttle

 

 

Back to my bad habits of writing my blog late at night! My excuse today is that I’ve been in Lancaster running a 10k race.  I’m not even going to play it cool, pretending to drop this in casually as part of the usual run of the mill blog post…

I ran 45 minutes and 1 second for 10k!

My last ‘personal best’ time was 46 minutes and 17 seconds, about seven months ago, which is why I’m so chuffed.  I’ve been doing a bit more training though, in the last few months, so I knew I would beat my PB, but didn’t think for one second I would be at the 45 minute mark.  I was also 5th woman back, and I got the V35 prize (first time I’ve ever won a prize in a race!) and won the Ladies Team Prize along with my two friends, J and K

This race was called the ‘Jailbreak 10k’ and you signed up to do the race inside a cell in one of the prison wings.  The prison is now shut down of course, but I was actually quite freaked out by the cells.  They were very small and there was a toilet in the corner with a board at the side of it, presumably to give a bit of privacy, and that in itself was shocking – that this tiny space was for more than one person.  It was also really cold in there – and the prison wasn’t shut down that long ago! I couldn’t believe that people were kept in there, that people would have lived in there.  It definitely gave me goosebumps.  I thought the prisons I’d been into were pretty brutal, but they had nothing on the Lancaster Castle prison!

So two photos, and then I promise I will say no more about it.  The first is at the start – I did eventually get away from the unicorn.  (It was optional fancy dress for the race – only three people wore fancy dress – a Ghostbuster, a Witch and the Unicorn).  The second is at the end of the race, having just got to the top of the hill – so am in a bit of pain here, and pulling my famed ‘running face’.

 

This week has been relatively quiet apart from today! I decided I needed to get organised and make myself a timetable, to ensure I’m getting enough PhD work done.  So I did that on Monday, and did manage to make some progress.  I ordered 2 poetry collections by Marie Howe, who I’ve only just discovered.  I absolutely love her work, but this hasn’t helped with narrowing down the possibilities of poets to focus on.

I’ve also been carrying on reading Kate Millet’s ‘Sexual Politics’.  It’s a pretty big book.  I’m now over half way through though and still enjoying it.  The RD1 form is my next big hurdle, and my supervisor gave me an example one to look at.  So I’ve read that through and had a go at writing the first part of mine, just to see how it went.

I’ve also been reworking a review from last week after some feedback, and on Saturday night I had a gig with the Soul Survivors in Ulverston.  I guess it doesn’t sound that quiet now I look at it, but there hasn’t been as much rushing about as there usually is.

I’ve got a few dates coming up of readings and workshops – on Thursday I’m reading at Brantwood with Geraldine Green and Kerry Darbishire.  There is also an Open Mic – tickets are £12 and include food.

On the 4th November, the Brewery Poets are putting a reading on at The Brewery Arts Centre in Kendal.  I’m the MC, and guest poets will be Pauline Yarwood, Jennifer Copley and Ian Seed.  These nights usually sell out, so if you’d like to come, book a ticket quickly!

I’m also running my Dove Cottage Young Poets group on the 4th November, and am recruiting for new members! If you know any young people (from the age of 14 to 25) who would like to come to a free fortnightly writing group, please get in touch.  We have lots of fun, and the young poets get lots of opportunities throughout the year to perform (if they want to) and to work towards Arts Awards.

And lastly for now, on the 12th November, I’m running an all day workshop for Lancaster Spotlight.  You can find details here, but to book a place, just email spotlightclub@btinternet.com

Today’s Sunday Poem is by the wonderful Penelope Shuttle. I’ve always loved Penelope’s work, right from when I first started writing eight years ago. Penny has featured on this blog before – you can read that post here.

As you will see from this previous blog post, Penny is one of my favourite contemporary poets, so I’m quite excited that she has sent me a poem from her forthcoming collection with Bloodaxe to put up on the blog this week.  I’m even more excited that Penny has agreed to be the guest poet for the Residential Course that I’m running in St Ives next year with co-tutor David Tait.  Penny will be coming to the hotel to have dinner with the course participants, and then she will be reading from her work on the Wednesday night of the course.  There are only four places left on this course, so if you’d like to book, please get in touch with Treloyhan Manor Hotel on 01736 796240.

In 2015 Penelope published (with John Greening) their exploration in poetry  of many aspects of Heathrow airport and Hounslow Heath upon which the airport now stands:  Heath (Nine Arches). She also published a pamphlet titled Four Portions of Everything on the Menu for M’sieur Monet! (Indigo Dreams Publications). Penelope has given many readings of her work, and has been a tutor for many organisations.  She is currently a mentor for The Poetry School.

This poem comes from Penny’s forthcoming collection Will You Walk A Little Faster? which will be published by Bloodaxe in May 2017.  It was originally published in The Manhattan Review.

I love the idea of this poem – to be able to talk to your Life, to make your Life a person, rather than a collection of events.  I love that the poem seems to start mid-conversation with Life.  There’s something unbearably sad about this poem – of course, Life is addressed and personified as a seperate thing, but the whole time, we know that Life is also the speaker.

The language that is used seems deceptively simple, but the poem is full of surprising turns of phrase: ‘I’m sad of myself’ and ‘days live me in vain’ and then at the end ‘the walls are spells’ and ‘the roof’s a star’.  Maybe just because I’ve been reading a lot of Emily Dickinson but the capitalization of Life and the short lines made me think of her.

The sounds throughout the poem – all those repeated ‘L’s’ string the whole poem together.  I also love the intermittent address to Life, that comes back throughout the poem, as if the speaker is turning to Life and making sure they are still listening.

The line breaks are very effective as well, particularly at the end with the line ‘I know you so well’ which then carries onto the next line to say ‘My Life, not at all’.  I was left trying to puzzle out whether Life is known or not, and maybe that’s part of the point. Until I read the poem more carefully, I thought the ending was a repeat of the beginning and then I thought it was a straightforward reversal of the beginning, which says to Life: ‘you know me too well’.  This statement is supported throughout the poem.  What is questioned is whether the Speaker knows Life as well as the Speaker thinks they do, and just writing that I realise that of course they don’t.  We can’t know our own Lives without distance, and time to reflect, and we can never do that while we are still living them.

I hope you enjoy the poem – and please keep a look out for Penny’s collection, coming out next year.  If you’d like to find out more about Penelope Shuttle, you can go to her website here.

 

 

My Life – Penelope Shuttle

My Life, I can’t fool you,
you know me too well,
I’m sad of myself,
days live me in vain,
you test me
but bin my answers,
you’re so busy, so tired,
evenings in the glass,
drink them, My Life,
but you won’t,
driving your bargains
of years gone by,
promising me
this and that till
the walls are spells,
the roof’s a star,
and
I seal the hour
in a tear,
a mortal tear,
I know you so well,
My Life, not at all

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Sunday Poem – Penny Sharman

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I’ve had one of the best half terms ever -the weather has been great all week, and although I had a couple of things on during the week, I wasn’t rushing around at my usual frantic pace.

My Poetry School course started this week.  The course is called ‘What Work Is’ and I ran an online version for The Poetry School last year which sold out, so I’m now running it face-to-face in Manchester.  The online course had 12 students and was pretty full-on.  The course in Manchester has six, and in the first session it was great to have the opportunity to work with a smaller group, with time to hear everybody’s poems.  I’m really looking forward to next week – the first hour will be writing exercises to generate new work, and the second hour will be a chance for the participants to bring work that they started in Session 1 for feedback from the group.

It takes me two and a half hours to get to Manchester on the train, which is a huge commitment, compared to the online courses where I can sit in my pyjamas at home and teach the course, but my plan is to use the time on the train to read and write.  When I was doing the MA and I went to Manchester once a week on the train, I used to get loads done, probably because being on a train forces me to sit still, which I usually have great difficulty with.

The journey to Manchester was great but the journey back went less smoothly.  A large group of young blokes got on the train at Lancaster with one woman and proceeded to shout and play music loudly.  As soon as they got on, I closed my notebook and put everything away, because I didn’t want them to notice it and start commenting on it.  I put my headphones in and tried to ignore them, although I started to feel more and more irritated by their behaviour.

When the young female train guard came to check their tickets, they started shouting ‘Nectar’ at her – I didn’t know exactly what it meant, although I made an educated guess.  I felt even angrier then – this woman was just trying to do her job and she had a group of 10 men shouting stuff down the train at her.  However, I still sat there.  There was nobody else in the carriage, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by standing up and moving.  Then they started saying they were going to ‘teabag’ the girl and take a photo, and I couldn’t stand it any more.  I packed my stuff up, and decided I would move carriages, and I would also tell the train guard and ask her to keep an eye on the girl, who was at that moment, asleep or passed out from drinking.

As soon as I got up and walked past them all, as predicted, they started shouting ‘Nectar’ at me.  I turned round and asked them if it was really necessary to shout things at every woman that walked down the train.  For a couple of seconds, silence fell, and they looked completely stunned.  I turned around to carry on walking and one of them shouted ‘Nectar’ again.  Then I really lost my temper and used a few choice swear words.  When I marched off after this exchange, one of them shouted ‘Feminist!’ which would have made me burst out laughing, if I hadn’t been shaking so much.

I’m thinking a lot about my reactions to this sort of behaviour, because this is the sort of thing I’m hoping to explore in my PhD.  I’ve been thinking a lot about my reactions to it in the past, my coping mechanisms – which are usually to ignore it, or laugh along.  I don’t think I’ve ever confronted it in such a blatant way.  It felt terrifying, and exhilarating.  Apparently when the train guard went down to check on the girl, who seemed fine, the group of blokes were all very polite and subdued.  So maybe it did them good.  Maybe they will think twice about behaving like that in the future – who knows.

I believe in the inherent goodness of most people and I’m sure those blokes are perfectly nice people, when they’re not drunk.  I’m sure most of them wouldn’t want to intimidate, humiliate or embarrass a woman or anybody.  I’m also sure that they didn’t shout things at me or the train guard with this intent – I don’t think they even thought about it in those terms.  So I’m determined to speak up a little bit more often – when I think it is safe, or when I can’t hold my tongue for fear of doing myself an injury.

I have a lot to learn as well.  The first thing that jumped into my head was ‘Who are their mothers – and how did they get to this age thinking this was an acceptable way to behave?’  Why did that jump into my head, rather than ‘Who are their fathers?’ or ‘Who are their parents?’. Someone pointed this out to me and we had (I think) a good conversation about it – I was shocked that I’d said this without even thinking, and joined in with blaming women for the behaviour of men.

Other things that have happened this week – lots of sitting in the garden in the sunshine.  I’ve spent at least two full days editing poems, and trying to get some ready to submit to a magazine.  I was trying to work out why this was so difficult – when I was just starting out, I was really good and efficient at getting poems ready and sending them.  I’ve worked out that back then, I sent all the poems I’d written out because I trusted that if an editor liked one they were good enough to be read. Now,I don’t think I trust magazine editors with this.  I want to make sure everything I send out, I’m happy with.  In other words, I don’t just want an editor to think it is a good poem.  I need to know it is a good poem.

So the editing has been fun, if frustrating.  I’ve also read quite a few poetry books this week – the highlight has to be a book by Carmin Buga, published by Arc, which I won’t say too much about, as I’ll be writing a review about it very soon.  I’ve been doing a bit of writing – whether the poems will come to anything yet, is too soon to say, but I’ve felt like I’ve been getting on with it.

I’ve also been running quite a bit – but I’ve really struggled in the heat.  Some people seem to be unaffected by the heat when they are running – they might find it uncomfortable, but they can run as fast as they usually can.  I’m completely wiped out by it – I did the Morecombe 10k today and finished in just over 49 minutes – way over my personal best of 46 minutes.  I wasn’t too disappointed though – I knew I would find it difficult in the heat, and I was part of the winning team for the Ladies Prize, so that was quite nice.

Here is today’s Sunday Poem by Penny Sharman.

 

Above the bed – Penny Sharman

I remember the young boy,
how he was able to levitate.
He said it was like holding on
to a balloon, airless, weightless,
as he floated up like a cobra
being played by flutes.
**
He rose to the ceiling
and hovered with thoughts
of being free from his body,
from his lungs that struggled
with breath. He could see himself
lying on the bed but the moon
and stars were calling him home.
**
I remember the young boy
telling how he let go of the
strings and fell to earth, how
it was only the hard walls
of his room that kept him
from flying, from flying away.

Penny was part of the group of friends that I went to visit a couple of weeks back when they were having a holiday in The Lake District, and she’s also been on the Poetry Carousel last year.

I was attracted to this poem straight away, because of the subject matter.  I used to do this as well! I also developed an extension to this game, where I would stare at the ceiling so hard and imagine the whole room turning upside down, so the ceiling became the floor, and the hanging light bulb would become a beautiful free standing lamp post.

I always like poems that explore the division between the self and the body, and I think this poem does that really well.  It not only explores the division, but also the thing that binds the body and the self together – I love the description of levitating being like ‘holding on to a balloon’

We don’t learn why the boy ‘struggles to breathe’. Is this a symptom of an illness which would explain why he wants to levitate from his body in the first place? I don’t mind not knowing.  I also like the description in the last verse, and that it is the ‘hard walls/of his room’ that keep him from flying away – not the speaker, or family, but something unarguably solid.

It is a very mysterious and surreal poem, which again, is probably why I liked it. Thanks to Penny Sharman for letting me use it!

Penny Sharman is currently completing an MA at Edge Hill University, and has recently had four poems published in Obsessed with Pipework.

 

Poetry Workshop Carousel – New Residential Poetry Course, 11th-13th December

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 Society of Authors Awards June 2011Kim Moore  Eric Gregory AwardsandrewforsterIan Duhig (6)Question_mark_(black_on_white)

Due to an early mix-up with dates between the hotel and myself, Rebecca Goss is no longer able to tutor on the 2015 Poetry Workshop Carousel, which I’m really sad about.  She will hopefully be coming back to tutor on the 2016 course, so please watch this space!

The new dates for the Poetry Workshop Carousel are the 11th-13th December 2015.  Tutors confirmed so far are myself, Andrew Forster and Ian Duhig.  I will hopefully be able to confirm the fourth tutor in the next couple of days or so, and it will be someone as equally fabulous as Rebecca, but fabulous in a different way.

In case you missed my earlier post about this, the Poetry Workshop Carousel will be taking place at Abbot Hall Hotel, Kents Bank, Grange Over Sands.  The course will be made up of a carousel of four workshops with four different tutors.  Each participant will attend a 2 hour workshop with each tutor as part of a small, intimate workshop group.  In the evening, the groups will come together for poetry readings from the tutors and invited guest readers.  I estimate the workshop groups will be between six and eight people.

The cost of the course will be £230.  This includes four workshops, two readings on the Friday and Saturday night, accommodation and all food for the weekend – a three-course meal on Friday night, breakfast, lunch and three course evening meal on Saturday and breakfast and lunch on the Sunday.  The course begins at 4pm on Friday and finishes at 12 on Sunday.

If you haven’t been to Kents Bank or Grange Over Sands before, it is a beautiful place.  The hotel is set in wonderful grounds, right on the edge of Morecombe Bay and a two minute walk from Kents Bank train station.  There is a lovely swimming pool in the hotel and the intention for the weekend is to take over the hotel with poets!  If you have any questions at all about the course structure or content, please get in touch with me via the Contact page.  Places are limited and I’m expecting them to go quickly, so if you would like to book, please phone Abbot Hall directly on  015395 32896.

Over the weekend, I’m planning to put up a draft programme for the weekend, but the start time for the first workshop will be 4pm on Friday 4th December and the finish time will be Sunday lunchtime at 12pm, if you are thinking about booking trains.

Here is a little bit more information about the fantastic tutors who I’ve chosen not just because of their reputation as poets, but also because of their reputation for running fantastic workshops.

Ian Duhig

A former homelessness worker, Ian Duhig has written six books of poetry, three of which were shortlisted for the T.S. Eliot Prize as well as the Whitbread and Costa Poetry Awards. He has won the Forward Best Poem Prize, the National Poetry Competition and was a joint winner of a Shirley Jackson Award for one of his short stories. A Cholmondeley Award recipient and Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, he has taught at all levels from beginner to post-graduate and his university posts include being the International Writer Fellow at Trinity College Dublin.  If you would like to order any of Ian’s books, you can buy them direct from Picador here

Andrew Forster

Andrew Forster is originally from South Yorkshire but he lived in Scotland for twenty years before moving to Cumbria in 2008. He has published three full-length collections of poetry, two with Flambard Press, ‘Fear of Thunder’ (2007) and ‘Territory’ (2010), and ‘Homecoming’ with Smith Doorstop (2015). ‘Fear of Thunder’ was shortlisted for the 2008 Forward Prize for Best First Collection and ‘Homecoming’ is shortlisted for the Lakeland Book of the Year Award . Two poems, ‘Horse Whisperer’and ‘Brothers’, appear in the AQA GCSE syllabus.  He has worked in Literature Development for 17 years and until recently was Literature Officer at the Wordsworth Trust in Grasmere.

Kim Moore

Kim Moore’s first full length collectionThe Art of Falling’ was published by Seren in 2015.  Her first pamphlet ‘If We Could Speak Like Wolves’ was a winner in the Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition in 2012.  It was named in the Independent as a Book of the Year, shortlisted for the Michael Marks Award and was the runner up in the Lakeland Book of the Year Award.  She was awarded the Geoffrey Dearmer prize by Poetry Review in 2010, an Eric Gregory Award in 2012 and a Northern Writers Award in 2014 and is one of five UK poets selected to take part in Versopolis, a European project aimed at bringing the work of young UK poets to a wider European audience.  Her poem ‘In That Year’ is on the shortlist for the 2015 Forward Prize for Best Published Poem.

*FOURTH TUTOR TO BE ANNOUNCED SHORTLY*

WATCH THIS SPACE!

Sunday Poem – Pauline Keith

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This year I seem to have got off relatively lightly as regards Carol Services or Christmas concerts with schools.  However, I’ve made up for it by booking my junior band in to do a whole succession of busking at various supermarkets in a bid to raise money for the band funds, which have been seriously depleted last year when we had to buy quite a lot of new instruments.  I’ve been out carolling with them three times now and am due to go out another two times before Christmas.  We’ve been to Asda, Morrisons and Barrow Market so far and are due in Tesco and at the football ground next week.

Whenever I take the junior band carolling, it reminds me of going carolling with Unity Brass when I was young.  I absolutely loved going out.  Even though it was always cold and it usually involved standing up – two of my least favourite things in the world.  Most nights in December would involve playing under lamp posts in residential areas while our parents knocked on doors with collecting tins.  I learnt all of the carols off by heart, mainly because I couldn’t be bothered to turn the pages of the carol book.  There was something about standing in the cold together that I really liked.  I can still remember what it felt like to have the carol book rolled up inside my coat pocket.  I remember our conductor, Rob Boulter, showing me how to rock backwards and forwards on your feet to stop them aching, how to stop your lip hurting by putting it on the cold metal of the bell of the cornet.  Now I know I loved all the carols that were in a minor key – Coventry Carol, In the Bleak Midwinter.  I didn’t know that was why I loved them back then though but I always loved the words to In the Bleak Midwinter – although I only knew the first and last verse –

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago

What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would give a lamb;
If I were a wise man, I would do my part;
yet what can I give him: give my heart.

I didn’t know back then that the words were by the wonderful poet Christina Rosetti – but I remember loving that simile in the second line ‘water like a stone’ and then that wonderful daring third line with the repeat of the word snow, over and over again.

Every Saturday and Sunday the band would be booked to play Christmas carols all day in Asda.  There was none of this two hours business that I do with the junior band now.  It worked a bit like a relay – somebody turned up who could play your part and then you could go home or have a break.  If nobody turned up to take over you just stayed there until they did.  My mum and dad would stand again with the collecting buckets for hours on end.

Lots of parents of the junior band members hold buckets to collect money, or just stand and watch.  It doesn’t seem to matter to them how many times they hear the carols, they just want to support their children – I find this strangely moving as well.  I should say I wasn’t moved by it when I was younger.  I just expected that my parents would do it – and I think this attitude is typical of most of the junior band as well!  You don’t appreciate your parents and all the things they do for you until you get older – this probably isn’t a particularly exciting revelation for most readers of this blog but I rediscover this and realise it over and over again when I’m working with young musicians and I see the parents turning up time and time again. I always feel a little pang of guilt as the image of my mum and dad, sitting at every rehearsal on a Monday and a Wednesday night flashes through my mind – every rehearsal – can you imagine!?

Anyway, I didn’t set out at the beginning of this blog to write a nostalgic memory of playing carols when I was young.  I wanted to tell you about this fabulous book I’ve been reading by Thomas Lux, who I heard read at Aldeburgh Poetry Festival a couple of months ago.  He was a great reader – and he said he liked my purple hat when he was signing my book.  And he called me kiddo.  All things that go in his favour.  I enjoyed the poems but I was worried that without the force of his personality they would wilt into nothing when I was reading them on the page – but they don’t! They are so good.  He has just had a Selected Poems published by Bloodaxe which I would heartily, heartily recommend you go and buy at once.  I wanted to draw your attention to these lines from a poem called ‘An Horation Notion’.  In the last stanza he says

‘You make the thing because you love the thing
and you love the thing because someone else loved it
enough to make you love it.
And with that your heart like a tent peg pounded
toward the earth’s core.
And with that your heart on a beam burns
through the ionosphere. And with that you go to work.’

I read those first three lines this morning and I haven’t been able to stop saying them over and over again since then. Like the first two lines of Tithonus by Tennyson ‘The woods decay, the woods decay and fall/The vapours weep their burthen to the ground’ or the first sentence of Prayer by Carol Ann Duffy ‘Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer/utters itself.’ I know those three lines will haunt me…

‘You make the thing because you love the thing
and you love the thing because someone else loved it
enough to make you love it.’

The three things I’ve loved for most of my life – music, running and poetry.   Rob Boulter, my band conductor at Unity Brass loved music enough to make me love it.  Wayne Walker, my running coach, loved running enough to make me love it.  Poetry – poetry is different.  I feel like I found that on my own, although I suppose my dad loved reading enough to make me love it, which led to me finding poetry.  I’d be interested to hear if people think it’s true – think about the things you’ve loved all your life, or found out that you love late in life.  Was there somebody who made you love those things because they loved them?

A few people have laughingly said this week that they were looking forward to hearing about my epic drive to Sheffield on Tuesday but the journey was so awful I can hardly bear to recount it.  All you need to know is that I left Barrow at 3pm after work and didn’t arrive in Sheffield till 9pm.  I missed the reading by the other two poets, Noel Williams and Linda Goulden which I was really gutted about.

Cora Greenhill was hosting and managed to keep everybody entertained and happy in between the first half finishing and my arrival.  I was slightly flustered (to say the least) and relieved to find there was still an audience there.  I sold three pamphlets which I was pleased about as I think two thirds of the people in the room already had a copy.  Cora gave me a lovely, thoughtful introduction and everybody was very welcoming and friendly.  It’s a great little venue and if I lived closer I would definitely be attending more often.  It was lovely to see some poetry friends that I hadn’t seen for a while but it all felt very rushed after the reading, because of course I had to drag myself back to Barrow ready for work the next day.

And then there was the drive back.  Ugh is all I can say.  I was so tired by this point – a combination of this awful cold I’ve had, the awful drive and reading from my sequence which always wipes me out that I had to pull over three times on the way back home to try and wake up a little bit.  The third time I gave in and went to sleep for an hour in the car.  I eventually arrived back in Barrow at 3.30am which gave me time for a bit of a sleep before having to get up and get ready for work the next day.

This week’s Sunday Poem comes courtesy of my adventures last week at the Wayleaves launch of four pamphlets.  Pauline Keith’s pamphlet ‘By the Light of Day’ is absolutely fantastic.  The pamphlet describes Pauline’s childhood experiences of being brought up in the family slaughter-yard.  The poems are utterly compelling, and although they work very well on their own, when they are drawn together, as they have been in this pamphlet, the end result is wonderful.

I first met Pauline in Brewery Poets, a writers group that we both attend in Kendal, and I have come across some of the slaughter-yard poems before so I knew I would enjoy the pamphlet.  I’m sure Pauline won’t mind me saying that she doesn’t send her work out as often as she should so not enough people are aware of what a great writer she is, so I’m really happy that Mike Barlow of Wayleave Press has produced this brilliant pamphlet.

The poem I’ve chosen is called The Old Toll House and it is the first poem in the pamphlet, and really introduces the atmosphere and themes that are worked out in the other poems.  I also think it fits really well with the earlier Thomas Lux lines I’ve quoted, with both of them mentioning the word ‘work’ at the end.

The Old Toll House is so beautifully described in that first stanza.  We can picture the tall arches and the dusk, but it only takes until the first line of the second stanza where Pauline has used the word ‘seem’ to signal to us that this is not an idyllic place, and this is carried on in the next two lines with the ‘tainted river’ and the ‘half-derelict canal’ – both of these are hidden from view.  Things are not what they seem.

From this point on, the poem becomes darker and darker, almost relentlessly.   In stanza 5 the italics are used to good effect for emphasis. I also really like the line ‘Chained dogs rage at strangers.’  The master stroke of the poem comes for me in the last three stanzas.  Here the poem turns on its heel and goes in a completely unexpected direction: ‘lift the house roof like a lid’.  I really love this ending.  It gives us the sense of looking back into a far away past and also the feeling of being larger and more real than this past – as if the house is really a dolls house.  We know (whether we know we know or not) that these poems are going to explore power – who has it, and who doesn’t, family, cruelty, pragmatism and the world of work.  Which there aren’t enough poems about!

Pauline Keith has lived and taught in Turkey, Nigeria, Singapore, Holland and Canada.  She was a founding member of Lancaster’s pioneering Literature Festival in the late 70’s.  She received second prize in the 2005 Bridport Prize and commended in the 2007 National Poetry Competition.

Mike tells me a Wayleave Press website is currently under construction, but if you would like to order Pauline’s pamphlet, or any of the other Wayleave pamphlets, you can email Mike at on mike@goosewing.myzen.co.uk  and he will make arrangements to get the pamphlet to you in exchange for a small and reasonable sum of £5.

Thanks to Pauline for letting me use her poem.

The Old Toll House – Pauline Keith

Admire it, done in oils,
set near the viaduct’s tall arches
rising from the valley’s dusk.

Lit windows seem to welcome.
You can’t see the tainted river
or half-derelict canal.

No boats pay tribute here –
the Toll House now a family home
fronting a slaughter-yard

for sick cows and useless horses.
Their flesh, condemned for humans,
feeds the townsfolk’s cats and dogs.

There are few visitors –
no friends.  Just business.
Chained dogs rage at strangers.

Wait till those windows are dark holes
in white walls washed by moonlight –
then lift the house roof like a lid.

Look down on restless sleepers
separate in shared beds: mother
with daughter, father with son.

Replace the roof.  Later, light
will come and the day’s work:
a matter of knives and livelihood.

 

Sunday Poem – Em Strang

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Evening folks.  This is again, going to be a short post but you can find out more about what I’ve been getting up to if you head over to The Poetry School Campus.  You can find the transcript of a webchat discussion with Hannah Lowe, Amy Wack and Neil Astley here – http://campus.poetryschool.com/?get_group_doc=126/1399484358-first-collections-panel-transcript.pdf

but if you would like to know more about what I’ve been getting up to on a day to day basis, have a look at Part 2 of my logbook which you can find here http://campus.poetryschool.com/logbook-there-was-the-time-i-woke-up-in-the-morning-and-forgot-how-to-walk/

I’ll be putting Part 3 of the logbook up in the next few days or so and there will be news of an online workshop I’ll be running as part of my residency as well – so do keep your eyes open!

Today’s Sunday Poem is by Em Strang who I met last weekend when I headed up to Lockerbie for a rehearsal.  Em is co-organiser of ‘Carrying the Fire’ festival which you can find more information about here.  Along with a violin player called Simon and Rachel Amey, another poet, we have put together a poetry performance exploring what ‘Re-wilding’ means.  There are still a few tickets left for the festival – as well as us, there will be music, storytelling, lectures, all sorts going on and obviously a bonfire.  It would be lovely to see some of you there!  If you would like more information about the festival have a look at the website which is http://www.carryingthefire.co.uk/

I was really impressed with Em’s poetry last weekend.  It lifted me out of a bit of a rut I was in – don’t know if you have ever got into a mood, when you have listened to too much bad poetry and it has finally got to you and you are left wondering whether you will ever love poetry again – too many bad open mics and poets who read for double the length of time they are supposed to etc etc.  Anyway, this wasn’t the poem I heard Em read – I hope she has bigger plans than this blog for that poem and I’m sure she will succeed – but Em was kind enough to send me some poems to choose from and I decided on this one.

I don’t often put poems in a particular form on this blog for some reason but I thought the form in this poem was so well handled.  I don’t think there is a line that really puts a foot wrong – I like the rhymes and their slippage into half rhymes – I love the title which just says so much without over explaining.  I love the little aside ‘(god it was insane)’ and the self realisation the poem is filled with – and the suprising ending, with the woman with small hands who walks into the poem and out again, like a cat walking into a room and ignoring everybody before leaving.

Em Strang also has a website and blog which is http://emstrang.wordpress.com/

You can find news about an upcoming workshop that she is running here which looks really interesting and still has a couple of places left.  Em has published work in New Writing Scotland, The Glasgow Herald,  Dark Mountain and Poetry Scotland amongst other places.  She has also recently been commended in the Wigtown Poetry Competition and the McLellan Poetry Prize.  She has a Phd in creative writing (ecological poetry) from the University of Glasgow.

I hope you enjoy the poem.

Sonnet Without Shouting – Em Strang

It’s true the door no longer fits the frame
and the windows are blown out.
Someone’s been in and torn both our names
out of the curtains, the bedclothes, even that stout
little dresser we bought in the driving rain
that day I suddenly knew it was my fault –
that if I hadn’t loved you so much (god it was insane)
you wouldn’t have left. No doubt
I learnt something valuable. Perhaps I finally overcame
the need to be near you, to decorate the house
with travel photographs and books, that quaint
framed poem you wrote one summer, the one about
the woman with small hands from Lastur in Spain,
who said the only way to make you listen was to shout.

A few words – Nigel Jenkins

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There are tributes all over the internet now for the poet Nigel Jenkins who died very recently.  There is a tribute with details of his life here on the Literature Wales site which gives some idea of the type of man he was – http://www.literaturewales.org/news/i/144334/

I was lucky enough to meet Nigel in August 2007 at Ty Newydd on a week-long residential course.  I think I’d been writing a couple of months  and on the encouragement of my writing group, had decided to book myself on a writing course.  The other tutor was Sarah Kennedy – who has written her own tribute here http://sarahkennedybooks.wordpress.com/2014/01/29/remembering-nigel-jenkins/ where she mentions the course.
That course changed my life in so many ways – I met one of my best friends Manon Ceridwen there.  I left at the end of the week full of confidence and enthusiasm and determination that I could be good at poetry.  I went away, not believing that I was an amazing poet, but believing that I had potential – and it was Sarah and Nigel who gave that to me.  That was so important to me.  Nigel explained to me that learning to write poetry was like learning to play a musical instrument.  He said there were no short cuts.  He told me I should write every day and read every day.  Every single day without fail.  He asked me how much I had practiced when I was at music college.  I said two to three hours a day.  He said that is what you need to do if you want to be a poet.  This was a lightbulb moment for me – it didn’t depress me – it excited me – so hard work was all it took?! I could do that!

And so that is what I did.  Nigel told me that if I did this every day, within a year I would get a poem published.  A year later I had my first poems accepted in ‘Obsessed with Pipework’ and ‘First Time’ magazine.  I remember dancing around my living room brandishing an acceptance slip.  I will never forget that moment!  I emailed Nigel in 2008 and told him about my acceptances and asked his advice about doing an MA in Creative Writing.  I told him his teaching and that week had been inspirational.
He replied and was supportive and gave me some good advice.  I don’t delete any emails so I was able to find the email exchange tonight, which was what made me write this blog.  Reading those emails back I sound like a different person – much more naive about poetry, still barely contained enthusiasm…- Nigel’s voice in the emails sounds just as I remember him – calm, encouraging, full of sense.

If I am running a workshop now I always pass on Nigel’s advice.  I often quote him word for word.  In his poetry book ‘Hotel Gwales’ which I’ve just retrieved from the book shelf he has a poem called ‘Advice for a Young Poet’.  I loved this poem when I first read it.  It is a series of pithy stanzas seperated by asterisks – full of sense, as I said before but beautifully balanced.  Some of them are funny, some serious.  These are the last three sections, but the whole thing runs to seven pages.

from ‘Advice to a Young Poet’
by Nigel Jenkins

“Delight, of course,
in the play and shapeshift
of this serious game,

but don’t flinch from asking
of your new-born creation

‘Who needs it?’

*
Bear in mind, as you write,
that this poem

could be your last.

*

You may have, from the outset,
your creation’s last line,

but a poem’s ending is not its end.”

So in the spirit of telling people when they have touched  our lives for the better before it is too late, here are five poetry folk, most of whom I’ve not told what a difference they have made to me.  I’d love to hear about other people’s experiences as well – who are the poetry people who have touched your lives and made them better or inspired you?  I’ve limited myself to five but I could have gone on much longer.  In a time of sadness and frankly feeling slightly fed up with social media and the awful arguments between poets that I’ve witnessed this week, it would be nice to read some positive experiences…

So here are my five –
1. Andrew Forster – Literature Officer at the Wordsworth Trust and a good friend who has given me advice and support and been immeasurably kind to me.
2. Fiona Sampson – Fiona was another tutor on a residential course at Ty Newydd.  She was a wonderful tutor and every time I have asked her for help -with editing my pamphlet manuscript amongst other things, she has given her time freely and generously.  She published my work in Poetry Review, and then more recently in Poem.  She always treated me as if I was a poet, before I thought of myself as one.
3. Alan Jenkins – another tutor at Ty Newydd on another life changing course.  Alan doesn’t suffer fools but he has been kind, generous and supportive of my work.  Alan has often challenged me to push myself further when I have submitted poems to the TLS and is never afraid to tell me when I am writing a load of old tosh – which I really appreciate!
4. Sarah Kennedy – the tutor on the first residential course I went on at Ty Newydd along with Nigel.  Sarah was warm, funny enthusiastic, inspirational – a wonderful lady.
5. Nigel Jenkins – rest in peace.

Highlights of 2013

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Last year I did a round up of my highlights of the year, month by month which you can find here, if you’re interested https://kimmoorepoet.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/highlights-of-2012/

So I thought this is as good a tradition to start as any, and seeing as for some reason I am not sleepy at all, here goes…

January – I ran poetry workshops at Inglewood Primary School and with Leeds Writers Circle, read at a Penning Perfumes event and went to my friend Manon’s wedding, and went to the TS Eliot prize readings which just happened to coincide with a friend’s birthday and spa weekend.

February – In February I did a poetry workshop at Thwaites School and for Lancaster Spotlight but the highlight of February was tutoring on my first residential poetry course in Grange Over Sands at Abbot Hall Hotel.  The participants were fantastic and it was a great three days.

March – I ran poetry workshops at Greengates School and for Cumbria Adult Education and read at Headingley Literature Festival with the wonderful George Szirtes – but what made March extra special was my junior band, the Barrow Shipyard Junior Band winning their section at the South Cumbria Music Festival.

April – I went on a mini poetry tour in April (very mini) and read at Puzzle Poets in Halifax and Word! in Leicester.  I was also guest poet at Zefferelli’s in Ambleside at their first open mic.

May – I read at Sheffield Lyric Festival and at the Troubadour Club in London – I also discovered one of my new fave poets Kathryn Maris at the Troubadour and met an old friend from music college there after not seeing each other for ten years.

June – I read at the launch of an anthology ‘Sculpted’ and at Lancaster Spotlight but this month was special because my junior brass band spent a day recording their first ever CD.  They worked really hard and I was (am) very proud of them.

July – I did a whole day of workshops with Year 10 pupils at Holy Family College which I really enjoyed and the next day went to the award ceremony for the Lakeland Book of the Year.  Hunter Davies read my ‘Picnic on Stickle Pike’ poem out.  I crawled underneath the expensive table cloth in embarrassment.  It was a lovely afternoon though and definitely a highlight of the year, even though I didn’t win!

August – August was a great month! I went back to Fermoy in Ireland and met up with lots of old friends from last year, but also made some new ones – like the lovely Ben Johnson.  I attended a training day at the Wordsworth Trust so I could work as a freelance tutor for them.  I spent a week at Ty Newydd with tutors Ian Duhig and Ruth Padel who were brilliant – but perhaps the strangest thing this month was reading at the Breastfeeding festival in Ulverston with Hollie McNish and selling loads of pamphlets, despite not having poems about breastfeeding, not having had children…

September – I found out I’d been accepted as a ‘mentee’ on a New Writing North project to work with newly qualified teachers on their own creative practice and went for a training session.  I had the first ever ten minute play that I’d written performed at Theatre by the Lake – the writing of this play went on over the summer and this was a real learning curve for me, but very enjoyable.  I read in Cockermouth, Wakefield and Huddersfield but my favourite reading this month was reading in St Oswalds Church in Grasmere in a collaboration with local artists who made art work in response to the poems that local poets had written about St Oswalds Church.  Luckily this was the month I went down to three days a week at work to have more time for poetry stuff.

October – I ran a workshop for a lovely women’s group down in Leicester and read at De Montfort University the next day.  I read at Swindon Poetry Festival and got to hang out with two of my favourite poetry people – Hilda Sheehan I already knew was my favourite but Michael Scott became my new bestie…I read at Torbay Poetry Festival and met the wonderful Arthur Broomfield who is also new bestie, read in Bolton, organised by the lovely Anne Caldwell and ran my first poetry workshop for a schools group for the Wordsworth Trust.

November – In November I managed to get about a bit – I read for Brewery Poets in Kendal, Lauderdale House in London, April Poets in Lancaster and ran another schools session for the Wordsworth Trust.  I ran a workshop for the talented Malika’s Kitchen group and spent a brilliant three days in Aldeburgh, reading at the Poetry Festival.  This was the month I was shortlisted for the Michael Marks Award and got to spend an evening at the British Library

December – The highlight of December, without question has been taking the band to play christmas carols.  I’ve enjoyed it so much this year I even got the trumpet out and went and played carols with Barrow Steelworks Band.

An early finish to the year (only being three days a week) led me to have too much time on my hands so I decided to set up a brass ensemble of a professional standard.  We will hopefully be performing at a wedding near you in the not too distant future.  If you would like a brass ensemble get in touch – poets rates instead of mates rates!

So it has been a busy and wonderful year.  I hope 2014 brings lots of poetry into my life, more playing of the trumpet and more hanging out with family and friends – maybe that is a lot to expect for one year but who knows!  I hope to see you in 2014, or at least continue to lurk about in cyber space and interact with you all

 

Sunday Poem – Isabel Bermudez

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If feels as if time is accelerating since the start of December – maybe it is because December gets very busy for music teachers and the pressure is now on to get Jingle Bells sounding like Jingle Bells before Christmas in my normal teaching – which is more complicated than it sounds!

I am taking the Barrow Shipyard Junior Band caroling next week – on Monday we can be found playing carols in Asda, on Tuesday we will be at Anchor Court in Dalton and Wednesday we will be at Ormsgill Primary School playing in their carol concert.  On Thursday I’ll be in Grasmere running a schools workshop for the Wordsworth Trust and on Friday you will find me in a heap somewhere…next Monday the band will be caroling in Tesco.  This is our main chance in the year to build our coffers up to enable us to do exciting things throughout the year – last year the money we made caroling meant we could make our first album – which was launched on Tuesday last week.
We sold 44 copies on the night of the launch – I think we need to sell 120 to break even on production costs so if you would like one please get in touch.

Apart from the launch night the other thing I got up to this week was driving over to Darlington to work on a project with New Writing North which is based around the idea of working with newly qualified teachers and helping them to teach more creatively..I was just observing in this session but next time I go over in February I will be teaching part of the session – Anna Woodford led the session this time – a lovely lady who was great fun.  I offered her a lift back to the train station and we nearly got lost – both of us paying no attention to our surroundings when we had arrived at the school a couple of hours later and then mishearing the directions we were given – but we got there eventually!

In other news I went to Sheffield yesterday to the last Writing School meet up at the Poetry Business.  I think I wrote at least one poem which I think will go into my sequence – so that takes me up to 14 (if I keep them all).  I also picked up two copies of The North magazine yesterday with my two poems in ‘My People’ and ‘The Dead Tree’.  There are lots of great poets in this issue – and if you are looking for  a good poetry magazine to subscribe to you can’t go wrong with The North.  You can order it at http://www.poetrybusiness.co.uk

If you haven’t already – do have a look at the ‘Residentials and Workshops’ tab – there are details there of the next residential I’m running in Grange Over Sands with poet Jennifer Copley in April 2014.  You will also find dates for a residential I’m running in October 2014 with poet Clare Shaw down in St Ives – both are now open for booking – the Grange one has 8 places left – the St Ives one is ok for spaces as I’ve only just put the dates up.  Both are £350 and this includes tuition, accommodation, breakfast and dinner.  And my amazing company of course!  A bargain…

Today’s Sunday poem is by a lovely poet I met at Torbay Poetry Festival in October – Isabel Bermudez.  Isabel  was born in Bogota, and came to England as a child. She has been published in various magazines and shortlisted in a number of competitions, including twice for the Bridport. She was Highly Recommended in this year’s Torbay Open Poetry Competition.  Her documentary film  El Corazon de la Basura, was shown on Colombian state television and at the Cuban International Film Festival in 2000.

Isabel’s husband Simon is a wonderful artist and Isabel gave me this poem on a beautiful illustrated post card which Simon had painted…I am always partial to a heron poem but I do like the close descriptions in this poem – and how sure-footed the poem is – each line break feels right.  I also like the questioning or doubt in the middle of the poem and the description of the bird which looks only as if it is sleeping rather than dead – and the unnamed body found in the river that is the shadow behind the poem all the way through…

I hope you enjoy the poem…

Heron – Isabel Bermudez

Flung, her wings collapsed, elbows bent, intact,
as if heaving a huge sigh; her beak wrenched this way or that
brought in by the tide; grey lady, wheezed of life
morning in, morning after.  Bodies too, on this stretch of river
cast up bloated with weeds in their hair,
not pristine as this old lady here.  She’s only closed her eyes,
as if temporarily, only temporarily, forgetting to shake her wings,
take flight, as if any moment, she might…Suicide, murder, accident?
We’ll never know; a picture in the paper – party night,
walking home, last seen saying goodbye to friends;
hunched queen on Eel Pie Island, shriven, mute,
a grey flush of wings flying high over the slatey Thames.
No rescue boat, police cordon, divers, journalists
to document her demise, but for a short time only she’s
foreshore news for Sunday joggers, dog-walkers, wino
and the couples that walk on the towpath down by the brewery;
arms crooked; counting the days till spring

 

Sunday Poem – Chrissy Williams

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Evening folks.  I am so excited about my Sunday Poem this week that I can hardly bear to tell you any other news – then again, I haven’t got that much so that is ok!

On Friday I read at the Brewery Arts Centre with Gill Nicholson and Mark Carson – two lovely poet friends, who I realised as I got up to do my set, were at the first writing group I ever went to, so have the dubious honour of being some of the first people to ever see one of my poems.  So this is all their fault, I think! Anyway, they were lovely and encouraging to me, so it was wonderful to read alongside them on Friday.

Pauline Yarwood, another lovely poet-friend was the MC for the night, and she did a great job – her introductions were warm and generous and full of enthusiasm for poetry, real enthusiasm, which as we all know is contagious and is what we need more of in the world.

I read some new poems and broke out from my usual set that I do from the pamphlet, which was both scary and liberating.  Reading from the pamphlet is like putting on a pair of comfy shoes – I do the same poems in the same order – but Friday’s reading made me realise that it is ok to shake it up a little bit!

I have had a great week for selling books – I sold six on Thursday in Carlisle and the bookshop took five to sell, which I am very grateful for as it is hard to get my poor spineless pamphlets onto a shelf, and I sold six on Friday in Kendal and then two through my lovely paypal button on this blog this week which takes my grand total to 406 copies sold!  Da da!  I’ll let you all know again when/if I get to 500…..

But! Off this unimportant stuff – and lets face it – it is not that important really – not compared to finding a poem that makes you wish you had written it – that makes you read and re-read it to get to the heart of it, and then realise you won’t get to the heart of it, and that’s kind of the point…and I have such a poem as my Sunday poem this week!

When I was shortlisted for the Michael Marks a week or so ago, it jolted me into ordering some pamphlets that I’ve been meaning to order for ages.  One of the other shortlisted poets was Chrissy Williams with her Happenstance pamphlet ‘Flying into the Bear’.  I read the first poem, and became a bit besotted with it.  Maybe it is because that bears slip in and out of Chrissy’s poems in the same way wolves lurk at the edges of mine – but it also has something to do with the beautiful language and the inner logic of the poem that holds it together against the more rational logic of the outside world.

I feel I’m gushing too much, so I’m going to stop as I will be meeting Chrissy soon at the Michael Marks Awards and I don’t want her to think she has a crazy stalker – but you should really order the pamphlet – it’s exciting stuff.  Some of it is bonkers – in a good way.  There are a few bear poems – there are a few strangely shaped poems – this is not a pamphlet which will bore you – you will be entertained from cover to cover, I promise.  An extra bonus – there is also a comic to go with this poem here: http://chrissywilliams.blogspot.co.uk/p/poems.html

Chrissy Williams lives in London and works at the Poetry Library and is half-Italian.  She is also joint organiser of the annual Free Verse Poetry Book Fair and has been published in various poetry magazines and anthologies.  You can order ‘Flying with the Bear at http://www.happenstancepress.com

I hope you enjoy – let me know what you think!

The Bear of the Artist – Chrissy Williams

I asked the artist to draw me a heart and instead he drew a bear.

I asked him, ‘What kind of heart is this?’ and he said, ‘It’s not

a heart at all.’

I asked him, ‘What kind of bear is this?’ and he said, ‘It’s not

a bear either.’

I asked him, ‘What kind of artist are you anyway?’ and he said,

‘I am the one who exists to put bears in your head, who exists

to put ideas in your head in place of bears, who mistrusts anyone

who tells you they know what kind of place the heart is,

the head, how it should look, what size, what stopping distance,

and as long as you keep me existing to put bears in your head

I will, because nights are getting shorter, and we’re all tired,

we’re all so tired, and everyone could use a bear sometimes,

everyone could use a wild bear, though they can be dangerous

and there’s nothing worse than a bear in the face, when it breaks

—always—remember how your bear breaks down

against the shore, the shore, the shore.’

 

 

 

Timetables, Readings and Traffic

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Not a very exciting title I know – but it does sum up my week rather nicely.

I have been on half term this week – but last weekend I drove back from Torbay Poetry Festival to my parents in Leicester, then the next day from Leicester to Barrow, and it feels like I’ve spent the whole week stuck in traffic on a motorway somewhere.

Last night I drove to Carlisle to read at the Bookcase in Carlisle – what an amazing book shop – one of the biggest in the UK and an absolutely huge second hand poetry section, which I didn’t get enough time to properly look at – but I did manage to buy an Adrienne Rich ‘Early Poems’ hardback which I am very happy at finding.  I am planning a return visit to pick up some more poetry from them!

The other readers were Geraldine Green and Josephine Dickinson – I’ve heard Geraldine read before and she didn’t disappoint – but although I have crossed paths with Josephine at poetry events have never seen her perform.  Her reading and her poetry is completely compelling – to use a well worn metaphor – you could have heard a pin drop.  Josephine also talked about the wonderful people she had met through poetry – a subject close to my heart – I feel that we have a very unique, supportive community of writers in Cumbria – it is one of my favourite things about poetry!

And going back to traffic – I got stuck in traffic again, on the cursed M6 – which will, one day I’m sure drive me to some sort of breakdown.  I got to the reading with ten minutes to spare but no chance to eat but Gwenda from the bookshop kindly made me a cup of tea – a lovely poet called Deborah Hodge(s?) listened to me while I ranted for five minutes about the traffic and then I calmed down and was back to my normal, sane (or more sane) self.

There were some lovely people in the audience – one of my favourite people to bump into, Mick North and two Daves from the local poetry group – which they informed me was a reading group, not a writing group.  What a good idea – and a brilliant way to encourage people into poetry.  I’m vaguely toying with the idea of starting one in Barrow – but it’s fitting it in…

I am off to the Brewery in Kendal tonight to read with poets Gill Nicholson and Mark Carson which I’m looking forward to.  I’m mainly planning to read new poems I think as I am guessing most of the audience will have read/heard the pamphlet before.

Today I have been drafting the timetable for the residential course that I’m running with poet Jennifer Copley in April 2014.  This still has a couple of details to be put on – like what time the evening meal is (waiting to hear back from the lovely Hotel Manager) but this is the bones of the course.  Over the next couple of months I will post more detailed blurbs about the workshops we will be running.  You can also find this information on the ‘Residential Courses and Workshops’ tab at the top of the page.

Encounters and Collisions 14th-18th April 2014

 

Monday 14th April

2.30pm-5pmWorkshop with Jennifer Copley and Kim Moore
“Encounters and Collisions with Art and Other Media”

Dinner

8pmEvening Reading in the lounge
Bring a favourite poem to share with the group, written by somebody else.

Tuesday 15th April

10am-1pm – Morning Workshop with Jennifer Copley
“Encounters and Collisions with the Past”

3pm-5pmAfternoon Workshop with Kim Moore
“Encounters and Collisions with Animals, Birds and Other”

8pm – Poetry Reading in the Lounge with Kim Moore and Jennifer Copley

Wednesday 16th April

10am-1pm Morning Workshop with Jennifer Copley and Kim Moore –
“Encounters and Collisions with Landscape”

Free Afternoon – Tutorials available – participants to sign up at the beginning of the week

8pm – Poetry Reading in the lounge with two Mystery Guests

Thursday 17th April

10am-1pm – Morning Workshop  with Kim Moore
“Encounters with the Body”

3-5pm – Afternoon Workshop  with Jennifer Copley
Encounters and Collisions with Ghosts and the dead”

8pm – Poetry Reading in the lounge by Course Participants

Friday 18th April

10am – 1pm – Critiquing workshop in the lounge

1pm – Course finishes