Monday, 27 November 2017

Mulled Poems, 30th November

Ashdown Forest, Winter View by Robin Webster

This Thursday evening between 6 and 8pm we will once again meet at Ashdown Forest Centre to raise a glass of mulled wine, tuck away a mince pie or two and read seasonal poems.  Entrance is free and everyone's welcome.  

Monday, 20 November 2017

Reading at Lumen, Tavistock Place

Photograph by Nick Kane

Tomorrow evening I will be reading at Lumen, 88 Tavistock Place, London.   Doors open at around 6.30pm and the reading will take place under the banner of Agenda Poetry.  I will be in fine company, reading alongside Timothy Ades, Patricia McCarthy, Sam Milne, Jess Mookherjee and Shaun Trainer, and poets from the floor will also be welcome.  The event will be run by Ruth O'Callaghan, under the wing of Andrew Motion, and funds raised will benefit homeless people.  

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

Filmpoem Festival, Lewes

On Saturday I'll be in Lewes, doing this.  It looks amazing.  Come if you're close.

Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Seventy Answers

I've come to a pause in typing up Seven Answers.  I need to draw some more initials, which takes time, and recently I don't seem to have had much of that.  There are still more replies to publish, although the end is in sight, and soon I'll have to decide what next.

It's been fun so far.  I didn't read all the replies when I first received them, so I've discovered a lot of lovable new voices and interesting stories.  The process of typing them up has been a delight too: I've felt close to each writer as I've typed, a feeling I used to enjoy when I was young, copying my favourite poems by hand so I could stick them on my walls or give them to friends.

Sometimes I've encountered editing dilemmas.  I've cut a few passages in order to tighten the replies and I've corrected a few spelling and punctuation mistakes.  On the whole though I've tried to keep my interfering fingers to myself and let each person speak.  I've also removed some references to people and places that I thought might make a writer recognisable, but here again I've tried to do as little as possible.

And now spring's become summer and tomorrow will be the solstice.  When I started typing up the replies the first primroses were coming into flower, now my garden's full of roses and there are still a few more replies to come.

Tuesday, 30 May 2017

An Encounter

(I found this fragment stapled to another set of replies.  There might be more of it somewhere else, but it's rather nice as it is).

He likes the same music as me... who'd have thought it!  Another trance, folk, world-music, poppy freak in the world.  He seems interesting and interested - rather than just taking about himself.  Unfortunately, and unusually, he doesn't drink, having stopped a few months ago after looking in the mirror one morning after.  Still, no one seems to be perfect.

All in all, a really enjoyable and romantic evening.  And yes, hopefully we will meet again[...]

A Lie

I'd like to tell you about the time I arranged for someone to steal my ex-boyfriend's car and drive it into the sea; revenge for the hours he spent telling me about how camshafts work and my disappointment that the excitement he obviously felt telling me about car engines didn't last the distance from the garage to the bedroom.  I'd like to tell you that, but it wouldn't be true.  What is true is that I used to pretend for hours that I was really interested because I wanted him to sleep with me.

A Memory

(This isn't my memory.  Like all my recent posts it's one of Seven Answers).

I can remember waking up in my cot and wanting people to come.  But they were all still asleep [...], even my sister who slept in a bed, so I stood up by holding onto the wooden white painted rails and boinged my Humpty Dumpty up and down with the hand I wasn't holding on with.

After a long time my mum or dad would come and let me out, or my sister would get out of her bed and come over to chat and play.  I don't think she was able to open the cot front and release me.

I still have the Humpty Dumpty, he is Chad Valley, about the size of a big Easter egg and made of very faded and worn pink and blue velvet.  The elastic for boinging him up and down tore off a few decades ago.