'I Don't Call Myself a Poet'

This fascinating site was brought to my attention by Wayne Burrows the other day. A project run by Sophie Mayer. It's a simple idea, students are assigned a contemporary poet, they have to familiarise themselves with that person's work and then interview them. The interviews are fascinating and many of the poets interviewed are refreshingly frank and honest about the way they view themselves as a writer of poetry. This includes an impressive list of 68 writers with more to come. It's the honesty which really appealed to me, especially on the subject of publication, rejection and how writers keep writing. Jane Holland made me laugh out loud when she put it down to 'stupidity and egotism,' however, what becomes clear is that poets become poets because they can't actually stop themselves, not simply because of the kudos of awards and publication. They lap up other poets' work, they see value in a variety of different voices; poets writing at different times, in different languages, different styles and concerns. It becomes a labour of love, I once read Rilke's 'Advice to a Young Poet,' which I think would be relevant to an older poet, a middle-aged poet, someone starting out and someone carrying on. You might be getting my hint. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet I am at liberty to copy and paste this:

You ask whether your verses are good. You ask me. You have already asked others. You send them to journals. You compare them with other poems, and are upset when certain editorial offices reject your efforts. Now (since you’ve permitted me to give you advice) I ask you to abandon all this. You look outside yourself, and that above all else is something you should not do just now. Nobody can advise you and help you, nobody. There’s only one way to proceed. Go inside yourself. Explore the reason that compels you to write; test whether it stretches its roots into the deepest part of your heart, admit to yourself whether you would have to die if the opportunity to write were withheld from you. Above all else, ask yourself at your most silent hour of night: must I write? Dig inside yourself for a deep answer. And if the answer is yes, if it is possible for you to respond to this serious question with a strong and simple I must, then build your life on the basis of this necessity; your life, even at its most indifferent and attenuated, must become a sign and a witness for this compulsion.

On being asked 'What made you become a poet?' Carrie Etter replies in her interview:  'I never felt as though there were a decision or a choice.' Which sums up what Rilke says above. You do it because you have to. I regret having my 'nearly decade off' writing poetry in my 20s, because I decided to let other people get on with, I was going to get on with other things. It didn't work forever, I went back to it because I couldn't stop myself.

Many of the poets discuss the issue of 'truth' in poetry and I liked Maitreyabandhu's response. Incidentally, Maitreyabandhu is the writer of one of my favourite poetry essays, 'The Provenance of Pleasure,' which appeared in the Spring 2011 edition of Poetry Review. We forget that writing itself is a pleasure when we are bogged down with rejections, there is a higher pleasure, perhaps even a spiritual pleasure in the act of writing, but that's another blog post. Anyway, here's the quote:

The way to avoid sentimentality in poetry is to work hard at telling the truth. At the same time, we shouldn’t be so afraid of sentimentality that it stops us expressing any emotion in poetry at all!

My friend Roy Marshall, whom as you know is an exceptional poet, is very good at this. I sometimes wonder that there is an danger in being too clinical with a poem, as well as over-sentimental. Is good poetry more like a paper-cut? In terms of getting 'jolted' into understanding, even if you will never, ever go through the same experience as the person who wrote the poem you are reading.

I could go on, I really could. But I will stop here for the morning as my twins are doing half-days at school and I have not hung out any washing yet. At least I will have something to think about when I am pegging things on the line.

The site of course is here.

Peony Moon

Here's some good news! There is a feature on Melanchrini on Michelle McGrane's excellent blog 'Peony Moon.' As I don't post my own work very often on this blog click here if you'd like to read a selection of my poetry from the blog. Whilst I'm here I'll also include reviews by Matthew Stewart and Roy Marshall. When I started the blog I intended to use it as a 'scrapbook' of sorts, so I'll try and put some links to the book up as a way of keeping things in one place!

Ledbury, July 2012

My Photo of Ledbury at Night

Last weekend we went to the Ledbury festival. I performed on the Sunday in the Shell House Gallery, but I’m very glad I stayed the for two nights as I managed to have a very full weekend of poetry. Despite weather forecasts, we managed to have a lot of sunshine. We arrived on Saturday afternoon and our place was very close to where all the events where taking place, everywhere was within walking distance.


After a picnic on the hotel room floor, went to the first event which was a reading in the Burgage Hall by the winners of the National Poetry Competition. Zaffar Kunial read first. He managed to achieve third place by sending in his entry with the attitude of ‘you never know’ – well, that was lucky. Zaffar is rather modest – he dosen’t send out and therefore he’s not appeared in any magazines – but I have no doubt we’ll be hearing more of him, or certainly seeing more of his work in written form. His poems were beautifully formed and often rather personal and touching. Second was Samantha Wynne-Rhydderch, whose reading was dramatic and exceptionally well paced. It was quite a treat to hear someone read who was clearly very skilled in the art of performance. Well you hear work of this calibre it quickly becomes apparent that good poetry ‘breathes,’ it finds a life of its own which is immediate and powerful. Lastly was Allison McVety, whose poem ‘To the Lighthouse’ managed to win first place. It was at some point during this reading I felt a little emotional, I found myself wrapped up in the poems she was reading. I was also just a little stunned. When someone is that good, I can feel myself ‘detune’ I can’t even focus on anything, the words take over. You are absorbed by the imagery and cadences and this is exactly what happened.

Thinking I was off back to the hotel room at this point. I was pleasantly surprised to be invited along to the Poetry Parnassus event in the evening. Poets from across the world were represented: Tishani Doshi (India), Kim Hyesoon (South Korea), Jang Jin Seong (North Korea), Doina Ioanid (Romania), Reza Mohammadi (Afghanistan), Raul Henao (Columbia), Paul Dakeyo (Cameroon), Ribka Sibhatu (Eritrea) and laureate Bill Manhire from New Zealand. Kim Moore also read from translations of the poets’ work. I loved hearing the pieces in their original languages.

Then bed. Now some people might find a bell chiming the hours away romantic but all I felt was stressed. The chimes chimed and when you hear three in a row you can be sure of your status as an insomniac. I had my reading on my mind perhaps.

Next day we did a bit of exploring. Ledbury is truly picturesque and we looked around a nearby church. Unfortunately one of my children fell over so went back and some lovely ladies tended my daughter Miranda, using the festival First Aid box in the hospitality room. After a drink and some scone she felt better. Spun my head round and there was Simon Armitage. Wanted to say hello, but did I? Did I diddly. A little while later went to his ‘Walking Home’ reading which included what he descrbed as a ‘boring’ slide show which wasn’t boring at all. He read from his new book, which also included some new poems. He also talked about the fact he found it very hard to compose poetry whilst walking, but that was mostly due to having to focus on the walk and the elements. Most of the work was written in retrospect. There was an amusing moment which wasn’t really amusing (one of those ‘we can smile about it now but at the time it was terrible' moments) about being lost in the mist. No visibility meant he wasn't sure if he was walking uphill or downhill. That’s lost.

I looked around the room and felt I was in a whole school assembly rather than a poetry reading. There were so many people packed into the community hall. It was a good reading and no doubt a shed load of books were sold.

Of course the Crystal pamphleteers were also reading, but having to look after the twins I could only hear of how good they were. Jonathan Taylor, my husband, introduced the readers. I’m especially looking forward to hearing some new work by Jess Mayhew.

Then it was my turn in the Shell House Gallery at four. For the first time this summer the sun was out. The reading went well and I sold a few books. Some people were friends, but I was interested in the people I didn’t know –what were they thinking? I read 10 poems in twenty minutes, kept the intros short and just got on with it really. Had some good feedback, hurrah. Should say a thank you to Jane Commane from my publishers Nine Arches Press for intro and organisng things.

After that it was straight to the hospitality room of course, drinks and the like. One of my favourite parts of the weekend was listening to Kim Moore’s anecdotes. It was the end of the festival; people were off home. Had a nice chat with Aly Stoneman and Andrew Graves about Ledbury and writing.

There was a little party right at the end and it was lovely to talk to the organisers and have members of The Poetry Society fill your glass. There was a remarkable quiet on the way back to the room, it felt as if the world had gone to bed by 10:30. Then it was me and the bell.

The Bell!

Additional Note: Here are some blog posts about the same weekend by Kim Moore and Roy Marshall, so don't just take my word!

Lichfield

As if Ledbury wasn’t enough, I read at an event in Lichfield at the spark café on Tuesday. The event was superbly organised by Gary Longden and Janet Jenkins of the Lichfield poets. Same structure as the Leicester Shindig readings: four main readers and an open mic. There were so many talented readers that evening that I ended up speaking to lots of people at the end and exchanging details. I heard some interesting things from readers I'd not heard before including Justina Hart, Penny Harper and Bert Flitcroft. I kept the running order sheet to remember names.Sold a few books as well, hurrah!

I’ve also been thinking about how a poet manages to go about the business of selling their own books. Yes it’s important to have the support and admiration of those you perceive as your peers, but there’s nothing like people who ordinarily don’t read poetry who tell you they like your work. One of the mummies from my twin daughters’ playgroup brought a copy of 'Melanchrini' and said she loved it and that means a lot.

Here'a very thorough review of the event from Mal Dewhurst.

Ledbury

I'm reading at the Ledbury Festival on Sunday 8th July at the Shell House Gallery at 4pm. This event is the official launch of Melanchrini. I have of course been practising: standing in my bedroom with a stopwatch, reading to the metal frame of the bed, remembering to make eye contact with the lamp and the alarm clock. Of course I'm nervous. My fellow debut Nine Arches Press poet Daniel Sluman launched his collection Absence Has a Weight of its Own the previous Saturday. I'm also proud that the Crystal pamphleteers will be reading; Andrew Graves and Aly Stoneman at 12:15 and Jess Mayhew, Charles G Lauder and Roy Marshall at 2pm.It should be a great weekend. I've booked a couple of tickets for the Simon Armitage reading at 12:45 and the National Poetry Competition, the day before at 6pm. The tickets for this event are free by the way. I'm really looking forward to hearing Allison McVety reading her winning poem 'To the Lighthouse' and also Zaffar Kunial reading his third place poem 'Hill Speak.' I'm embedding these poems below because I think they're wonderful:

Melanchrini

When I was about 6 or 7 I had a curious urge to write a book. At that point it was a children's book, I wrote my first on A4 paper with lots of illustrations called 'Pinnochio - the true story' but now I'm happy to report my debut collection of poetry, Melanchrini, is out with Nine Arches Press at the beginning of July! There will be a launch at the Ledbury Festival on Sunday July 8th and at the Leicester Shindig at The Western on the 16th as well as other events too. You can read more about the details at the Nine Arches Press website by clicking here.

And here's the front cover...

Ian McMillan: Talking Myself Home, May 24th Leicester.

Nice shirt.

On a very balmy evening at the end of May – yes, balmy, there was actually sunshine – I went to Leicester’s central library to see and hear Ian McMillan. Ian is one of those rare poets in my book, one of the few that I grew up with because occasionally you saw them on the television and they were often on the radio. The whole show was energetic, funny and charged with a poetic eccentricity that made for an engaging evening. Ian begun by talking about the odd things picked up in conversation or strange notices he’d taken off walls because there was something that little bit queer about them. For example, an A4 notice on a library desk somewhere with the words, ‘we do not supply squeezy bottles of washing-up liquid here.’ There’s a poet-as-magpie approach to language, ‘you couldn’t make this up’ was a phrase Ian used a lot that evening, which is true, but maybe it’s more about how poets use this information – the art of random. Poets are always being random I think, even when they don’t intend to be funny, and eventually you create a fresh meaning from ‘the drunkenness of things being various’ as Louis Macneice once said in a poem called ‘Snow.’ This in itself is a random thought.

Ian talked about his family and spent quite a while on recollections of his old, English teacher - debonair and corduroyed – who would later become some sort of media success story due to a surprise career doing voice overs on TV adverts. The reason why this particular teacher was so influential was simply because he asked the class to write poems as opposed to killing them with over analysis. He also talked about some of the things he’s done in his poetic career – yes I’ve just put the words ‘poetic’ and ‘career’ next to each other, astounding. Anyone with half a brain knows that humour isn’t just an indulgence, it comes from a serious and interesting place. Humour can be subversive, surprising and perhaps even more dangerous than outright protest. Funnily enough that documentary recently on John Cooper Clarke supported this thought and he’s another poet I grew up with. To finish, Ian read from his recent Smith/Doorstop pamphlet, This Lake Used to be Frozen: Lamps, which features poems with titles like ‘A Walk Where Almost Nothing Happens’ and ‘Did You Ask for a Decaff off that Other Lady?’. They are funny and serious, (read ‘A Series of Novels). Here’s a quotation from ‘As an Old Man Ian Remembers his Walks’:

‘I remember remembering, and the remembering’

Fin

Not (not) the Jubilee



Always one to get the timings wrong on this blog post, I was thinking about the Jubilee. No, not the Jubilee that’s just passed, the one held in 1887. The reason why I was thinking about the one 125 years ago was because George Gissing wrote about it in his novel In The Year of the Jubilee (1894). Gissing was born in Wakefield, in 1857 and died in 1903. As a young man he was a brilliant student and won several academic prizes, but he was caught stealing from his fellow students at the University of Manchester, in an attempt to keep his prostitute girlfriend Nell (Marianne Helen Harrison), off the streets. He would later marry her, but the couple separated and Nell died of alcoholism. Gissing married a second time, this time to a lower class woman who also separated from him and was sent to an asylum. ‘Oh dear’, I can hear you saying, ‘this is grim’, but he wrote some exceptional novels which seem coloured by experience. Many of his novels are preoccupied with scenes of working class life in cities and Gissing is regarded as a fine realist. On his deathbed H.G. Wells and his (unofficial – he was still married) third wife Gabrielle Fleury argued over how he should be nursed and fed. Gabrielle in the French corner – starvation to combat the fever - and H.G. Wells in the British corner – beef and brandy.
Anyhow, this illuminating piece of context is drifting away from the Jubilee theme, so let’s return. What’s clear about the way Gissing depicts the Jubilee celebrations in London is the absolute lack of nationalism. It’s all about drinking and partying for the working classes if we are to believe him, as opposed to the 2012 Jubilee, which is more concerned with dainty bunting:

“Beyond sat a working-man, overtaken with liquor, who railed vehemently at the Jubilee, and in no measured terms gave his opinion of our Sovereign Lady; the whole thing was a 'lay,' an occasion for filling the Royal pocket, and it had succeeded to the tune of something like half a million of money, wheedled, most of it, from the imbecile poor. 'Shut up!' roared a loyalist, whose patience could endure no longer. 'We're not going to let a boozing blackguard like you talk in that way about 'er Majesty!' Thereupon, retort of insult, challenge to combat, clamour from many throats, deep and shrill. Nancy laughed, and would rather have enjoyed it if the men had fought.”

It’s also about women getting out of the house. The main character Nancy Lord, rebels against her father, in an effort to taste a bit of freedom:

"I should like to walk about all night...as lots of people will. The public-houses are to be kept open till two o'clock. . . . It's horrible to be tied up as we are; we're not children. Why can't we go about as men do?"

Strident words from Miss Lord. I wonder if our present-day street parties where supermarket magazines advised women on the art of making bunting and decorating cakes with Union Jack colours are actually a step towards a return to conservatism. Or maybe not a return, but a class issue. Middle-class women don’t drink at street parties, they make the sandwiches. Nancy Lord is a lower middle-class woman who wants to have a night off respectability. Gissing is just one voice here, but I imagine he saw a fair deal to support his writing. Also there’s the argument of whether or not women of the time needed a man to do their talking for them, which is one to take into consideration. Still, it’s interesting from a 2012 perspective.

Poems from Roy Marshall and Jess Mayhew

Alice contemplates the flowers...

In the few months which have elapsed between their publication and now, there’s been some very lively interest in the Crystal pamphlets. People from across the UK and worldwide have been purchasing pamphlets; writing reviews and expressing good wishes. Last Friday, another launch was held in Nottingham, and readings have been going on up and down the country, including a reading at Ledbury in July. I’d like to share two poems by Roy Marshall and Jess Mayhew which have received lots of positive attention. It’s interesting to see which poems audiences seem to enjoy:


Rose

For no good reason
we expected his Latin genes to colour him,

for a slick of black to crown him
as he emerged from between her legs;

for olive skin that would darken
at the touch of sun.

Tonight, feverish, oink cheeked,
mousy hair plastered on a milky brow,

he sleeps with her,
a small doppelganger

arms flung above his head,
a mirror of his mother.

Their murmurs and breath
float from open lips

his a perfect miniature
of her own sleep-slackened rose.


As Tim Love said in one of his reviews, this is the ‘kind of poetry which is easy to read but hard to write,’ it’s certainly never laboured.

Here’s Jess’ poem:

Pub Lunch

At the end of your tether
I hunch over Queen’s Head scampi,
bench wood warm under my palms.

On the river, a swam lumbers to air,
black webs tucked and curses
at a man chugging his boat around,

pale under his mildewed lifejacket.
A bee trickles on the lip
of your glass. You swat and miss,
Sending it into shivering flight,
unseaming chubby joined legs, coarse
yellow hairs. Unhook the sting,

until all that is left are the quarks
which tumble and fizz like pollen grains.
You’re not listening, you say.


Mayhew’s sharp observation; the lumbering ‘swan’; the ‘shivering flight’ of the bee, creates a sense of unease, which finally reveals itself in the last line. I like poems which have an almost physical effect on my reading, I can sense the discomfort. It’s this eye for detail that makes her poems memorable.

'Someone Else's Photograph' by Jess and 'Gopagilla' by Roy, are available here at Crystal Clear Creators.

At some point -sooner, rather than later fingers crossed - I hope to write up a blog post about the process of putting together my own poetry collection. To quote Tom Elliot, 'There will be time...'

Interview on 'Necessary Fiction'

Fiction is Stranger Than Truth (Sometimes).

The other week Will Buckingham interviewed me for American webzine 'Necessary Fiction' about my poetry and my reasons for wanting to write poetry. He also asked questions on my first collection, Melanchrini. I've never been interviewed before, so if you would like to read my (first ever) interview, please click here.

The Hail Clanjamfrie



A poet spotted on t'internet

Surely a whole month hasn't whizzed by without a blog entry? Crikey me. It was a busy month with all sorts of happenings. At the beginning of March, CCC had its pamphlet launch at De Montfort Univeristy. A great success with a positive reception from poetry lovers and reviewers and lots of pamphlets sold. Then of course it was the book selling event of the year in the East Midlands, States of Independence on March 17th. Several publishers were represented including HappenStance, Five Leaves, Miel, Longbarrow, Shearsman, Templar, Candlestick, Nine Arches Press, CCC, Shoestring and many others. It was a buzzing, busy day. I came away with various books, mainly pamphlets. There were several reading and events. I attended the CCC event, the Nine Arches Press one, where I read with Deborah Tyler-Bennett and the HappenStance reading, which included Sally Festing, Peter Daniels and Robin Vaughn-Williams. I wish I could have attended more, but mine clashed with Chris Jones and Mark Goodwin reading for Longbarrow Press, a publisher based in Sheffield.  The 21st of March saw another Shindig, was not a well bunny so missed this event. Annoyed because I was looking forward to hearing Jonathan Davidson, whose recent collection 'Early Train' was published by Smith/Doorstop. Another time, dammit. The event itself has been well documented by bloggers such as Jayne Stanton and Gary Longden click and read!

So, by mid-March I was hitting the antibiotics hard, Sinusitis had floored me. However, I managed to read at the 'Word of Mouth' event, organised by Nottingham Writer's Studio, at Antenna in Nottingham, so I drugged myself up and went for it. I was very glad I did. The theme was film and there were some excellent films and readings from Richard Goodson, Andrew Graves, Michael Eaton and a brilliant short film called 'Disturbances' written and presented by Wayne Burrows. A chilling, unnerving film featuring image, sound (by Jon Brooks) and words by Wayne Burrows. Here's the prologue:

I inherited the trunk from my grandmother in 1987, and realised, when I began to unpack its contents, that my grandfather had developed an almost neurotic obsession with images.

He had first witnessed the atmospheric phenomenon he called ‘the disturbances’ in 1944, while stationed in Malaya, and had failed to document what he saw. This was, he told her, not going to happen again.

When the disturbances returned, he would be ready.

For full details and a taste of the film itself, see here.


Title Image from Wayne Burrow's Disturbances



Right, we're still not done! Not one to held back by the bugs, although I should have stayed in bed, I also attended a wonderful Writing Day held at Smith/Doorstop's head office in Sheffield. If you are able to go, go. If you enjoy poetry workshops, you will not be disappointed. The formula is simple but effective: A) you are handed a very good poem, b) you write a poem from scratch - having not painfully over analysed everything to (literally) death, C)  you share. You repeat 5-6 times. After lunch you bring in either a morning poem or one you've prepared earlier, where its receives a through critique. Read about Writing Days here. While we're on the subject of Smith/Doorstop, Alison McVety has only just gone and won The National Poetry Competition and I'd like to mention that Kim Moore was one of the winners in their annual pamphlet competition. Kim will also be appearing at our July Shindig with CCC and Nine Arches Press in Leicester.

This is the longest blog entry I've ever written, I may well expire. The title, for those of you who are wondering, is taken from a poem called 'The Bonnie Broukit Bairn' by Hugh McDiarmid. It was on a poster in a classroom at my high school, back in the day. Poetry had a habit of creeping in, even with a school obsessed with rizlas and New Jack Swing. What the hell, as this is such a long entry, let's finish with the poem:

The Bonnie Broukit Bairn

Mars is braw in crammasy,

Venus in a green silk goun,
The auld mune shak’s her gowden feathers,
Their starry talk’s a wheen o’ blethers,
Nane for thee a thochtie sparin’,
Earth, thou bonnie broukit bairn!
– But greet, an’ in your tears ye’ll droun
The hail clanjamfrie!

The last line refering to the 'whole mob.'

Gwyneth Lewis - Bardd Ac Awdur

Gwyneth Lewis

Last week was Cultural Exchanges at DMU. Before it becomes a dim and distant memory I shall try and write up a few blog posts about events, including the CCC pamphlet launch last Friday. Wednesday was Gwyneth Lewis, a poet I didn’t know very much about other than she was the first ever Laureate of Wales. I'd read some of her poems here and there and looked forward to finding out more. She read an impressive range of work and I really enjoyed listening. Isn’t listening just as, if not more important than reading? Her poetry and prose was approachable and struck a nerve. Poetry read from A Hospital Odyssey was very moving and also chimed with my theory that hospitals are rather like the underworld, ‘and airports’ as Lewis noted. There were also poems from Sparrow Tree; full of blue tits, blackbirds, egrets, juncos, starlings, herons and hummingbirds and of course sparrows.

Gwyneth opened the evening with this poem, one which I’d come across in many publications and texts. It appeals to me for its range of imagery. There are images here which you can actually feel:

'One day, feeling hungry'

One day, feeling hungry, I swallowed the moon.

It stuck, like a wafer, to the top of my mouth,

dry as an aspirin. It slowly went down,

showing the gills of my vocal cords,

the folded wings in my abdomen,

the horrible twitch of my insect blood.

Lit from inside, I stood alone

(dark to myself) but could see from afar

the brightness of others who had swallowed stars.


Gwyneth Lewis

The Pamphlets are Here!

I couldn't resist putting these up for your delectation. Here are the covers of the six lucky winners of the Crystal Clear Creators pamphlet competition. They are stunning and thanks to Helen Walsh for her beautiful designs, hope to write more about these. The launch for the pamplets is on Friday 2nd March at De Montfort University Leicester, at the Cultural Exchanges Festival see here. The lucky pamphleteers are Roy Marshall, Aly Stoneman, Charles G. Lauder, Hannah Stevens, Andrew 'Mulletproofpoet' Graves and Jess Mayhew, who I mentored for this project. I should also mention Jonathan Taylor, a wonderful editor and of course I knew first-hand how hard he worked on these.

Litter Bugging

As it's Burns' Night, here's a lovely stamp

It feels like a long time since I've blogged. Actually it's three weeks, but three weeks is a long time in some ways. Or maybe not. Anyhow, I have a poem here at Alan Baker's excellent on-line magazine Litter. There's some very interesting work on the site by many excellent poets and some very impressive reviews. Have a look here for my poem, it is a little strange. Engaged as I am in a oily self-promoting mood, I am also in the latest copy of The North. It's time to have a bath perhaps? Ok, what I really what to say is that issue 48 of The North is wonderful with some memorable and exquisite pieces of work. Now that you've seen Litter, look here for The North. It's next to the bed and read frequently at the moment.

Oh yes, as for the latest Leicester shindig, I don't even need to write a word, it's been done for me, look here at Matt Merritt's Polyolbion and Jayne Stanton's Poetic Licensee. My Crystal Clear mentoree Jess Mayhew did a wonderful reading. Very enjoyable evening as ever, sad though that Phil Brown was unable to come in the end, but I purchased a copy of Il Avilit and I'm looking forward to reading the contents.

I Tweet, therefore I am.

I am now on Twitter. To be frank I don't get it. I'm still a Tweeting virgin and feel all clumsy and am not sure what to put where. If you would like to follow my confusion you can do so here: @MariaTaylor_  That's my login name apparently. I don't really get it. If you do you can follow me if you like.

Salt Modern Voices at The Poetry Cafe

Bricks or cobbles? At any rate, tres urban.

I am determined to get this post in before 2012; it may be the only constructive piece of writing I've achieved over the Christmas break. Also, it seems rather fitting to close the year with a summing up of the last installment of readings at The Flying Goose in Beeston, arranged by the Nottingham Poetry Series and Nottingham Trent University. December 13th was Salt Modern Voices night, a new series described by the publishers as: 'a brand new series from Salt which aims to deliver short works to new readerships....experiments or side-projects which have a distinctive literary merit...issued like an EP prior to the development of a full-length collection and aimed at breaking new talent and building reception for the writer.' Which sounds very understandable to me. I love the idea of pamphlet being like an EP, I always thought of them in a similar way. Individual poems in magazines are like singles; pamphlets EPs and the collection is the album. My pop upbringing has clearly affected my perception of poetry publishing then. It's also a very savvy project and the web page I lifted this quotation from reads more like a manifesto rather than an introduction to the Salt Modern Voices Series. You can read it here:

It's been two years since I decided to get serious about poetry and it was two years ago I started buying pamphlets, primarily over collections, simply because they felt more accessible and you could buy a few at a time and read works by different authors; then you'd buy the 'album.' Nine Arches have published some very attractive and desirable pamphlets for instance, The Sopranos by Roz Goddard and The Night of the Day by David Morley. I should also mention the work of Smith/Doorstop (click!)at this juncture who produce remarkable poetry pamphlets too and have done for a very long time. I am currently reading The Sea and the Forest, by Sally Baker, lovely.

The Salt project seems rather ambitious due to the amount being published in a relatively short space of time, but that seems to be a Salt trait, something to do with capturing zeitgeist, I suspect. Beeston's Flying Goose cafe was one of the many venues up and down the country showcasing this new series. Four readers: Emily Hasler, Shaun Belcher, JT Welsch and Adrian Slatcher, as well as a single poem at the end by Tim Cockburn as well. Very different in subject matter, but I felt that a similar cadence seemed to resonate through some of the readings, so there was almost an incantatory tone to the evening and bound the readings together rather effectively. Welsch took us to the movies, which was rather exciting for a chilly December night in Nottinghamshire. Belcher's poetry seemed reflective and sonorous; Slatcher's were lyrical and seemed to focus on smaller details in the context of a global experience. It was great to hear Emily Hasler again who read from her pamphlet Natural Histories.


Hasler's opening poem was 'The Cormorants':

You scan the bay and always see one -
plumped like a discarded coat on some
purposeful post of sea-bleached wood.

Hasler has also appeared in Salt's The Best British Poetry 2011, with a poem called 'Valediction', a very memorable love poem which finishes:

The weekend laid out - a mahogany table - I know
where it is; I know where you are. When it rains

the earth smells like it's been there for years.

I always enjoy Emily's readings and have been lucky to catch her twice this year, Natural Histories is a very readable and enticing publication. There was also a chance for us non-Salty beings to read a poem of our own, so Deborah Tyler-Bennett and Roy Marshall had a go amongst others. I lowered the tone with a poem based on teaching Larkin, called 'Larkin' oddly enough.

The drive home was equally memorable for different reasons, lost on the A52 with three poets in a car, headed for some far-flung corner of Derbyshire and not Leicestershire,where we actually live, with 'The Organist Entertains' on Radio 2. Yikes.

Breaking New Year, 2012

This is traditionally the time of year when people put up thoughtful, balanced and considered retrospectives of the year. I'm of moderate intelligence, but am very slow this evening. I felt I should mark the passing of the year in some way. There's no rush. After all, wasn't the term Romantic coined after the era had gone? I hope to put up some thoughtful, balanced and considered blog posts on some recent events I attended very soon, but in the meantime here is a little tune by Scott Walker, which seems to be about passing years, which seems incredibly relevant for Dec 30th.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qg8-3wbCFi4

I'm Pregnant!

No, that's a lie. It's only true in a metaphorical sense, and you know how writers like that sort of thing. Ok, I'd like to announce that my debut collection Melanchrini is scheduled for publication in Summer 2012 with Nine Arches Press! I'm part of the debut series which features first collections from Andrew Frolish, Alistair Noon, Daniel Sluman. Phil Brown's Il Avilit was recently launched in London and I've heard tell it was a great event. I'll be looking forward to getting a copy very soon. Why Melanchrini? It's a Greek word meaning 'dark featured' for women, the masculine is Melanchrino.I was called Melanchrini when I was growing up, by my family. So it's personal choice, but it also rhymes with Martini, and I think that's a good thing. I like the chime with melancholy too. You can read about the debut series here: http://www.ninearchespress.com/debut.html

For the record, when I was pregnant, four whole years ago, I wrote a blog entry on how I thought I'd never write a word again. I had morning sickness from hell and it interfered with everything creative. The creativity was obviously being diverted to the twins, who were at that point floating around in the womb.The website is falling apart due to neglect, but it's still out there in Internet la la land for the time being: http://jonnyandmaria.blogspot.com/2007/12/on-not-writing-great-novel.html

A Night of HappenStance



hap•pen•stance [hap-uh n-stans] noun: a chance happening or event.

I have a new heroine and her name is Helena Nelson, the chief editor of HappenStance. What a great night we had on Saturday at Lee Rosy’s in Nottingham. This was the venue for ‘A Night of HappenStance,’ which featured Happenstance poets D.A.Prince, Robin Vaughan-Williams, Marilyn Ricci, Ross Kightly, Matthew Stewart and Helena Nelson. A rare treat as Helena is based in Fife and Matthew had travelled from Spain. I actually managed to have a good long talk with Helena afterwards about various things, some of which included poetry. She’s clearly interested in people, is extremely approachable and it was a pleasure to meet her. The readings were top notch and Helena’s approach was to introduce the poets by reading out the lines which most appealed to her from their poems. Take these lines from Marilyn Ricci:

‘...she yells, above the roar of her

welding torch out in the hall where she’s rebuilding

a number 39 which used to go to the Crystal Palace,

and will do again if she’s anything to do with it.’

Wonderful stuff. It was great to hear Matthew again, as I so enjoyed his pamphlet ‘Inventing Truth.’ He has a deeply engaging style. He read his poem ‘Instructions for Coming Home’ at the beginning and end of his reading. The perspective altered when he mentioned at the end that the poem was written from the point of view of a widower, the preparation of a simple meal is given a certain gravity by the final line ‘Now confront the day, bite by bite.’

Robin Vaughan-Williams read from ‘The Manager,’ and I think this was my favourite reading by him, probably because it was the longest. ‘The Manager’ is a strange and fantastically sinister short collection and one worth digging out. Ross Kightly was another writer I’d come across for the first time and he was great, despite his own admission that he was being followed by a Mafia boss. It was interesting to hear his work which was certainly entertaining. D.A. Prince was excellent, and I’m always struck by her clarity and ability to simply express what’s there without any superfluity. I think that was a trademark of all the Happenstance poets, and I imagine Helena’s editing has a lot to do with it. It’s sharp, measured and alert writing.

I’d never heard Helena read before, I knew she was probably going to be good, but my word she was better. Her writing is beautifully formed, memorable and – and – funny. Yes, funny, as in it makes you laugh. There are not many poets you can say that about, (Ok, maybe Geoff Hatterlsey, I love his work too).The imagination and verve is startling, for instance ‘Poetry Virgin’ which turns a humdrum excursion on a Virgin Train, with its mundane announcements, into something deliciously surreal:

‘A quiet stanza is situated near the rear of the poem

For readers who do not like howling.

Passengers should familiarise themselves

With the safety exits and the layout of the poem.

I brought a copy of her ‘Unsuitable Poems,’ which I’ve been dipping into since the weekend. At the post-reading drink (obligatory, it was a Saturday) local poet Roy Marshall was there and we also bumped into another local poet Sarah Jackson, completely by ... (forgive me) happenstance. Well, I think that’s a neat ending.

I'd like to thank...

I've been nominated for the Leibster blog award by Gary Longden, a lovely initiative to support bloggers with small but perfectly formed follower lists of less than 200. It's all described by Gary here: http://garylongden.wordpress.com/2011/11/20/the-liebster-award/#comment-354
I have to nominate some blogs of my own in turn.

1. Jess Mayhew's Drift Rook blog which is here: http://driftrook.blogspot.com/ Jess Mayhew was one of the winners of the Crystal Clear Creators pamphlet competition and is a superb writer. She's one of those people who definitely worth keeping an eye on.

2. Left and to the Back: http://left-and-to-the-back.blogspot.com/ A music blog run by Dave Bryant, who is absolutely dedicated to sharing the best of the obscure. The sort of blog where you come across quirky records and is so well written too. Dave, funnily enough, is also a poet.

3. The Literary Critical Detective, by James Holden, here on http://theliterarycriticaldetective.blogspot.com/ a fascinating foray into the creative and the critical...

4. Laura Smith's Made by Lolly, here: http://thoughtsbylolly.blogspot.com/ very beautiful objects d'art for all to enjoy!

5. Jayne Stanton's lovely writing blog Poetic Licensee http://poeticlicensee.blogspot.com/ which is full of writing! The kind of thing I should do on my own blog really!