Tonbridge Poetry Trail Poetry Reading

I walked the trail of poems in Tonbridge last weekend and was delighted to see my poem 'The Window Seat' up in the Beyond the Grounds café window. I enjoyed this moment, followed by a welcome cup of in-house hot chocolate on the very same seat that I have come to enjoy, with the views, both inside and out, that inspired the poem. 

Then this evening was the night where all Poetry Trail Poets available read their poems for the delight of the surrounding poetry lovers. The running order followed the Trail itself. I was a third of the way down. It was very enjoyable and it was nice to read poetry live locally, as well as hearing the talents of the fellow poets in town. I hope to engage more with this lovely and friendly community. 

The Tonbridge Poetry Trail

Poetry in Tonbridge is alive and kicking (or should I say 'walking'?) with the Tonbridge Poetry Trail organised by the 'Roundel Poetry in Tonbridge' group. Throughout the month of October, 24 poems written by 24 poets will be displayed in 24 participating shops around the town. I was fortunate enough to get involved by being asked to write a poem for the 'Beyond the Grounds' coffee shop by the river, which is now displayed in the shop window. It is entitled 'The Window Seat' and is based upon my experiences of using this same location to think and work in nice surroundings of a weekend. This was an exciting opportunity to get words shared beyond the written page.  Later there will be a Poetry Reading evening where the poets involved will share their poems, an evening that I am looking forward to in order to finally get connected with the other local poets in town.

Deeds & Words - A Festival of Women's Voices

I had the welcome opportunity to attend a poetry reading on 7th October at 'Deeds & Words Tonbridge - a festival of women's voices'. As part of the three day programme, two established poets, Elisabeth Cook and Rebecca Goss, read poems from their own published and soon to be published collections. Whilst listening to their stories through their words and looking at those present in the audience with me, I reflected how many people must write poetry but simply aren't published. If we all got published the world would be saturated with words, but would that be a bad thing? We all have stories to tell and we can all learn from sharing and listening to each other. Regardless of the merits of being published or not, it is great how writing poetry is so accessible to many. You just need a pen, some paper and the courage to write down some thoughts and see what happens. Granted, some  people will be more successful than others on a first attempt, but there are plenty of 'How To...' videos online to help. With a continuous view to keep an open mind regarding the theories of poetry writing (I tend to write mine automatically, like a personal journal), I attended the follow-up workshop by Elisabeth Cook: 'Starting to write: A Practical workshop.'

This was a great opportunity to hear a poet's perspective and try out a different approach. First of all, as part of the warm up, she offered some lovely observations about poetry: 'It's really important that we do give certain experiences a voice and recognise that they do matter.' - 'Don't dismiss anything as not exalted enough to use in a poem. At the heart of it is observation' - 'Things observed in a certain way have a sacramental clarity', and finally, 'You discover your feelings about objects by writing about them. You discover meaning. Let yourself play.' So we did just that. We observed our surroundings (quite a bland and dark indoor studio interior), focussed on a few objects and tried to write around them. This was my creation (of no title):

The shiny cavern of the curve of the chairs,

are looked over by the lights

as if to say:

'It is by my might, not thine,

that you shine so bright.'

The bright light of the beams of the lights so high,

are looked over and across at by the wires

as if to say:

'It is by my power, not thine,

that you shine so bright,

your glory I deny.'

The power of the wires that are curled so high,

are looked over and across and up at by the scaffolding all around,

as if to say:

'It is by my might, not thine

that your power flights,

that your beams shine so bright,

that your curves are alight.'

At this, they all agreed,

the sound resounding back

into the background of this scene

so yet unseen

by you or I.

7 October 2018

Copyright EH 2018

As part of the discussion, we also touched upon line breaks in poetry, something that has intrigued me before whilst writing or retrospectively. She offered these thoughts: 'In poetry, line breaks are incredibly important, the line becomes something you see, a unit of meaning.' This has given me fresh perspective on the allocation of line breaks and I shall mull further both as I continue to write, and as I re-read ones that I have yet to type up. 

The 'I Can't Sleep' Monologues

Here it is - after a sleepless night due to 'Storm Eleanor', I have finally created a stand alone section of poems called "The 'I can't Sleep' Monologues".  This has been a long time coming, the usual entries on this theme merely added to my 'Poetry Misc 2' collection. However, after last night's three poem splurge due to broken sleep, I decided it was time. This Met Office - Weather forecast video (1:08-1:28 mins in) describes the sleep disturbing weather I was experiencing:


It's fascinating to see the band of rain fly over at the exact period of time I was writing poems. Here is the first that I wrote:

11:45 p.m. (Wind – Overture)

Look, wind! 

How you blow against my window pane,

Leaves me feigning sleep

As I lie here 

Disturbed by your noise. 
The rain falls with inelegance,

For to you it's irrelevance -

How it falls from the sky,

Be it straight,

Or flat lined

On the panes of my window,

A mere shadow of its former orderly self.

It's lashings come by stealth 

To prevent my slumber.

It's a wonder there's no thunder

Given the efforts you make

To keep my sleep fake.

A slight dip, then awake,

Which repeats... 

My good mood at stake.

Ah - you've gone away

And peace weighs heavy.

Oh no, silly me,

You were just getting ready

To turn and replay this dull game.

And I'd gone to bed early,

What a shame.

Copyright (a tired) EH 2018

Open Mic

The Open Mic event today provided a great platform for those needing experience to perform their songs, poetry and skits to an audience. I delivered poems from, what I have affectionately named, the 'I can't Sleep Monologues' series. I've written quite a few now that I'm debating dedicating a whole (typed) collection to this theme. I currently have them stored under 'Poetry Misc 2', but I feel they are beginning to take a life of their own. It has been interesting to see how creating expectation in what you are going to deliver over a series of events can create a warm audience reaction that builds over time.

Who Knew? Charlie Sheen: The Poet

With Charlie Sheen fresh in the news, the media has picked up on his previous history as a Poet. He has one published book which is rare to find, I understand from this online article by GQ. From these examples he presents a short and concise style of writing. However, I am reminded how effective poetry can be to provide a window into the emotions behind the writer's outside persona, this being particularly effective when seeing 'behind' the media portrayal of a celebrity. Poetry seems to unlock something that prose doesn't: a stark reflection of the inner mind, with no fillers or description to crowd out the purity of meaning. Prose takes more words to do something that poetry does in less, yet with deeper impact. It is in what is not said that power of this communicative medium lies. 

EMD Week Performance Poetry Evening

Fresh from an evening at work, which hosted a Performance Poetry Evening, I am basking in the delight of dipping in to my passion for a while in an unexpected context. It was like being home from home and it was a delight to see students come to the fore with unearthed talent. After reading a 'medium' serious poem, vetted for its suitableness in front of students, I shared a couple of light hearted poems of a thematic series, (that of 'no sleep'). It was great to have an unaffected audience, not out to prove anything, just there for the delight of sharing in a great evening of poetry and musical talent. Well done to my fantastic colleague who set the evening up with a great choice of location, and a professional looking stage setting. Photos might follow if they emerge.

Spoken Word - Filming

I've just come back from spending the day filming two spoken word poems in a local park and lake area to represent the seasons 'Summer' and 'Autumn'. This was to reflect two of the seasons that we may experience in our life of faith as we go through our lives and will be used to accompany a sermon series at church which will be delivered in the next few months. It was an interesting experience from the visual techniques used to memorise the words, to an appreciation of the stages involved with filming and editing a video as I watched my colleague in this creative project at work. Delivery of the poems was achieved when both sitting and walking, which was also a great experience to test the effectiveness of both the preparation process ahead of the day and the memory techniques used. Interestingly, this has put to rest a long lived insecurity that I had from my days in a public speaking club, where I lost my words halfway through a five minute speech and had to check my notes. Admittedly, the length of the speech back then was longer than the poems I read for these videos, but the distractions of the outside environment, along with the forward motion whilst walking, were satisfying challenges to overcome. It's been a good day.

Poetry Unplugged

So, this evening I finally took part in an open mic event. I've read poems out at a local poetry reading before, and spontaneously at conferences or church events, but this was with microphone at the Poetry Café 'Poetry Unplugged' event in London. The poetry readings were in the basement below the café, so I bought a drink at the bar upstairs and went down below to sign myself up for a reading. The room was small, with enough seating for about 40 people. I noticed that I was number 35 on the sign up list, so I was in for a long night - though understanding the etiquette that you don't leave half way through once an evening has started, especially if you read in the first half. The small crowd grew and the buzz began to build. There were such a range of characters in the room: old / young; modern / traditional; student / professional; 'arty' / cool; and other such society sector categories. The young American next to me, here on a creative writing course for the summer, began practising his 'spits', taking the tension up to the next level. The man to my right was calmly reading over his lyrical creation, perhaps practising, perhaps choosing which to read. I had been informed by the MC that poets would have 4 minutes at the microphone, to do with whatever we wished. I began to mull over my own choices: should I bare my soul and read 'Disappointment' - a tale of heart ache angst, lightened only by the love that I feel from heaven, thereby exposing my faith, or stick to a more 'socially acceptable' theme - school or death, perhaps. Whatever, I put my hair up. It's going to get hot in here. 

And so it did, throughout the hour and a half of poet filled angst at the mic, I needed some air. It was half time and I hadn't been up yet. I had signed up just fifteen minutes before the cut off time after all. I made mental plans to sign up earlier next time. However, it turned out that the order you sign up, isn't always the order in which you speak. As one of the proclaimed 'Poetry Unplugged Virgins' I got to go ahead of the remaining regulars towards the end. Having heard a range of poets and points of view, I dived in and read 'Disappointment'. It was met with noises of deep appreciation from the front rows of the crowd. It was hard to know how it was being met whilst concentrating on delivery, but I was there to flex my poetic muscles and to find my voice in a place where any viewpoint would do. I was there to push through any insecurities about what I should and shouldn't read in front of others. They (the abused; homosexuals; God haters...) have a voice, and so do I. Their voice is no more important than mine and nor is mine more important than theirs. I have a voice and have a right to be heard. It was also good to find a place where poets were understood, where angst of the soul was accepted as the 'norm' and where sharing words was considered to be an evening out well spent. I have found my home: amongst poets.

Spoken Word: Walk and Talk

I'm researching ways to present Spoken Word in different ways for a current project. Here are some different styles I've found: 'Face to camera (plus words)'; 'Animation accompanied'; 'Walk and talk' (names created by me rather than 'official' terms). See this link for 'Walk and Talk' (WARNING: Adult language used), see below for 'Animation Accompanied' (despite this not being a poem, it is the style of the animation which inspires me), and further below for 'Face to Camera (plus words). 

Spoken Word: Animation Accompanied

Spoken Word: Face to Camera (plus words)

Grime vs Spoken Word

BBC Radio 1 produced a Live Lounge special entitled: 'Grime vs Spoken Word Special' (5/6/15). It was a fantastic series of duets from the two styles, enabling the sound of lesser known artists to come to the fore. Check it out.

BBC: The Poets Will Be Heard

The accompanying blurb for this BBC programme stated: 'The UK’s leading spoken word poets share how they found their voice. Featuring George The Poet, Suli Breaks, Hollie Poetry and more.' It was a short but interesting programme about the rising voice of poets in the country and how it can be used to connect people with stories. I was particularly impacted by the words of George the Poet in his poem 'Impossible': '...there are no winners until someone's won it, you won't know what I'm capable of until I've done it. ...Fear of trying is fear of flying. ...you are starting to doubt yourself, ...now you're worried about people calling your bluff, second guessing your ability and all of your stuff, but no: you alone is more than enough. ...I knew my time would come eventually, so I celebrate every test that's sent to me, because what's about to be, was meant to be. It's remarkable to try, but I can't afford to die, knowing my ambition didn't kill me. Forget the voice of reason, listen to the real me: no guts, no glory.' I'm tempted to buy his book. The more I listen or read other people's poetry, the more I realise we all have our own niche. Everyone's words have a place and a purpose.

Heaven Touches Earth

I'm finally typing up more poems from my poem journals. I'm way behind, typing up poems from July 2013+. I have a long typing session / sessions ahead of me! I've updated up to 605 poems, with more to go. Despite sounding like a laborious task, typing them up gives me the opportunity to 'live' them again, to feel how I felt when I wrote them, and to experience the presence of God that I felt in that moment. Sometimes it's an emotional experience, which I allow myself the space to press into. Others, they bring me joy again. I so appreciate the gift of words to express my journey with God. Heaven touches earth every now and again...

On a wider note, poetry is just one of the methods that I use to journal my way through the ups and downs of life. I love doodling in my sketch book and listening to music, both of which help me enter God's presence. Life is good when Heaven touches earth...

'Released' Women's Conference TBC 31 Jan 2015

It was a pleasure to have been part of the programme at the 'Released' Women's Conference held at Tonbridge Baptist Church today. The worship at the start was incredible, the speaker, Jenny Baker, presented a discussion about gender equality, image and empowerment, and the lunch included a wonderful rustic bread and cheese spread. My eyes widened on seeing what looked like a French dinner table scene. In the afternoon, I had been asked to lead a workshop on 'Released to Create', in which we explored a range of ways to release our creativity with words. I used Isaiah 55:8-9 as inspiration to reach higher than our normal self-imposed limits, whilst Isaiah 55:10-11 was used to encourage those who felt less confident in their potential:

Isaiah 55:8-11 New International Version (NIV)

 

⁸ “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
⁹ “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.¹⁰ As the rain and the snow
    come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
    without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,    so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
¹¹ so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
    It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
    and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

 

Having the pictures of enlarged flowers in my mind to represent the buds flourishing, I had a go at an overdue creative project and made some giant paper flowers, formation and materials courtesy of Pinterest and a wonderful trip to Hobbycraft. Some lovely women participated in the workshop, reminding me that gold can be found in the fewest of words, whilst experience and context can make some writing styles more accessible for some than others. It was a precious time of personal reflection and intimate sharing. Feedback as we worked our way through various word play techniques included: 'It was fun! I did things I did not think I could do.' Thank you for making it enjoyable to lead.

 

  

 

 

Abandoman - Improvisation

This evening I went to see 'Abandoman', described as 'Ireland's top comedy hip hop improv team with their biggest show to date'. They have performed at the Edinburgh Festival and have supported Ed Sheeran on his UK tour. Improvisation, story telling with the use of audience participation and flowing words create an entertaining evening of word prowess. I felt exhausted for him. It's quite hard work thinking up rhymes for an hour solid. Yet he managed, despite some unfortunately placid audience offerings, and, ably accompanied by his musician 'band' mates, he fed off those who offered richer pickings for his word gymnastics. It was an hour, so short, but intense and held your attention throughout. I'd like to see them with a different audience to see how they adapt to the different context.

 

Easter Worship Day

It's been a while since I have shared a poem of mine, and as this is primarily a poetry blog, it's about time: Yesterday, whilst sitting and enjoying the chilled out vibe at the Easter Worship Day at Tonbridge Baptist Church, I took the opportunity to read through my current poetry note book. Towards the end, I found this poem which encapsulated for me, in the moment of writing, back in December, how words are inadequate to describe the depth and breadth of God, despite the richness they might try to convey:

Few Words

There are but few words that can adequately describe you.

Each word relying on the other

To bring another facet into play

To fully display

The fuller array of you.
For no word will do
To fully display you.

How words cannot compare
to this sight so rare
of you.
If my experience of you could be as rich
as the hundreds of words that exist,
I'd only catch a glimpse of you.

Oh how words fail to satisfy my desire
to convey you.

I could twist and turn,
I could tumble and shake,
But no sound do they make
In comparison to
the symphony of you.

Oh how could I stay true to the truth of you
with mere words,
despite their flooding to me
in herds?

Copyright EH 2013. 
All rights reserved.

It was great to revisit a poem and give it some 'air'. The worship was led by the youth leaders and returning university students. They set it up in the round with opportunities for others to lead as they felt led, whether pre-planned or spontaneous. Thank you to them for the opportunity to share some words in praise of our wondrous God.

The National Gallery Room 9

On the 5th April 2014, I went to see the 'Magnificence in Renaissance Venice' exhibition at the National Gallery. It was a show case of around 50 masterpieces by the painter Paolo Veronese, the biggest collection of his works to be displayed in the UK, including some major loans from around the world. According to the National Gallery exhibition page,  it required a large scale re-hang of the gallery's collection, with some works being reunited in the same location for the first time in hundreds of years. What has this to do with poetry? Well I fell in love with his work 'The Adoration of the Kings' years ago when it was displayed in Room 9 of the National Gallery. I returned on many occasions to see this same painting as it symbolically represented something quite close to my personal experience of God. I also fell in love with the painting 'The Conversion of Mary Magdalene,' about 1548, previously entitled 'Christ Addressing a Kneeling Woman', which was also displayed in Room 9. I wrote a poem simply entitled 'The National Gallery Room 9' expressing the links between the two paintings in my mind. Then the inevitable, yet unthinkable in my naivety, happened: they removed 'The Adoration of the Kings'. I was sad, but knew that things change and it wasn't my room to decide what was displayed in there. Nevertheless, I excitedly discovered, on reading about this current exhibition, that the reason for its removal, was that it was being restored! Excellent news. So I paid for tickets to see two paintings that I have seen numerous times for free, but within the context of Veronese's other works, including a previous version of the 'The Adoration of the Kings' which I didn't know existed. All that to say that it has given me reason to revisit my poem, simply entitled 'The National Gallery Room 9'. It is good to reflect on times past and to see how far your journey has brought you, how things change, and underneath it all, how great it is to have a faith in God with whom you can share the journey.

'The Adoration of the Kings', Paolo Veronese, 1573-4

As for other links, it seems that Veronese was influenced by Michelangelo - another favourite painter of mine (see 'The Temptation of Saint Anthony Abbot, 1552) who was also a poet. See my previous post 28 April 2011 on this topic.

Women's Creative Worship Evening, 16 November 2013

I thoroughly enjoyed being part of the team setting up the women's Creative Worship Evening at the Tonbridge Baptist Church on 16th November 2013. We had areas set up for varied avenues of expression, designed for the women to filter in and out of throughout the evening with no fixed timetable. I was brought in to add a 'Words' section where those who wished could write, in any form, standard or amount, in order to express their worship to God, (even blank pages are fine). However, following a picture in my mind of a river, during one of the pre-event prayer / planning meetings, the area I was developing moved from a simple table with examples for thought and resources, to a full blown river, created out of material and cardboard boxes, (to create the 3D illusion), placed / sewn together. (Six hours of sewing was involved, but I have been looking for a project to use textiles with for years so it was a very satisfying process.) I knew this had to be an interactive space, so I researched the bible for 'water/river' linked quotes and I was excited to find Acts 16:13:

'On the Sabbath we went outside the city gate to the river, where we expected to find a place of prayer. We sat down and began to speak to the women who had gathered there.' Acts 16:13

So I set about putting cushions around the 'river' to allow the women attending the event to sit around and 'reflect, contemplate, think, doodle, write, pray...' I also created a 'tree' at the top on a stand alone notice board and the remnants of material, to frame example poems of mine, one being tree based, which were offered to prompt inspired creativity or simply just something to meditate on. I was also excited to find the below example from scripture:

'Blessed is the one
    who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
    or sit in the company of mockers,² but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,    and who meditates on his law day and night.³ That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,    which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
    whatever they do prospers.' Psalm 1:1-3

To encourage the women to interact with the 'river' further, I put a selection of water/river themed quotes from scripture at the bottom of the 'water's edge' to be taken away and kept by those who felt the quotes spoke to them in some way. One woman said that she had had a picture of a river in her mind that morning which was evening more exciting! What an honour to have been part of the process of her meeting with God. I was inspired to see the women interacting with river and tree area, and all in all it was a wonderful evening full of time to stop and reflect on God, whether via sung worship, art, prayer, words, dance or prophecy. I look forward to the next one...