Yes, I’ve returned to Southern soil after a long weekend at the Morecambe Poetry Festival.
This is Sharron and I at our first ever Morecambe bus stop, newly arrived and ready to take it all on
Well, where to start… our first ever poetry festival and obviously there would be poets there! But such a multitude..!
At the Kings Arms, our first poet was the intriguing and intense Rowan McCabe and his unique triangle of the south. Well known for his door-to-door poetry, he shared his last ever call. A great start to our intense weekend of poetry.
We went on to the splendid (if chilly) Winter Gardens to see a recording of Loose Ends and then a double bill of Mike Harding and Henry Normal. I saw the latter previously at the Poetry Cafe. Wonderful poet.
Then back to the Kings Arms for Atila the Stockbroker – whom I adored in the nineties with John Ottaway. What ravers we were!
Writing this has already exhausted me so the following is a montage of all our poetry encounters and adventures…
Yes, do not adjust your sets! You saw correctly! That was indeed Pam Ayres. Lovely woman and so so sharp and clever. And yes, that was Raymond Antrobus and Lemn Sissay there. Plus the wonderful Martin Figura and Helen Ivory. I don’t just rub shoulders with ‘any old one’!
That nice man posing in front of us is Matt Panesh who jointly made this whole thing possible. What a guy!
And this is me on the open mic on Sunday, having lost my nerve the day before!
And this is us encountering the wonderful Lemn Sissay on the journey home. A lovely and charming poet. The icing on the cake!
The above features Sharron Green in action, a poet called Rowland, and Anna Somerset. I also had the pleasure of getting to know Heather Sullivan. The top picture is of me having a well deserved coffee. That’s my advice to any festival attendee, lots of coffee!
Phew! I’ve got to lie down now, even just recalling my wonderful Morecambe adventures is exhausting!
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry adventures real soon…..
Welcome back to another favourite theme of mine – clothes.
Love writing about these very personal items. After another wonderful workshop with Sue Burge on the subject of Power Dressing, I came up with this couplet number. Wistful yet funny (I hope!).
Hemline
I ruthlessly shed low-cut numbers
Put blousy vintage dresses on eBay
Pulled hemlines over aging knees
Slit skirts a colourful memory
Revealing tops a thing of the past
Part of a glamorous heyday
Wistful glimpses of lace and stockings
Turn into American Tan hosiery
And colourful tights and mini skirts
Put me in the family way!
What do you think, PL’s? Do you have a much loved garment either in or out of your wardrobe? Let me know. Answers on a postcard please…..
Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry adventures real soon…
Welcome back to the Poetry Basket Review. And in our basket this week is
My Acrostic Mother, the brand new collection by prolific and talented poet Trisha Broomfield. Every page contains such absorbing pieces. Do treat yourselves to this wonderful collection. Meanwhile I have given it a very hot review below.
Read on…
My Acrostic Mother
By Trisha Broomfield
Presented with an abundance of glamour and nostalgia, this very personal and introspective collection of acrostic poetry gives us a sharp insight on a mother’s era. Striking a chord of recognition in us all.
Pieces going as far back as Land Army Girl, this will touch something deep within us. From the rustle of our mother’s petticoats to the texture of their lipstick. So many rich and wistful subjects are covered and I’m happy to take you on this glorious bittersweet journey if you’ll hold my gloved hand.
Classily laid out into sections with witty quotes from iconic women, my favourite being Dorothy Parker’s, and full of inked black and white illustrations, we delve into this collection of acrostics. This form isn’t easy for some but for Trisha Broomfield this came naturally and swiftly.
However, don’t be fooled into thinking this is an over-sentimental collection. It’s bright and sharp, and never maudlin.
One feels the elegance of Gloves and Hats, once a must-have for a woman, and the evocative The Red Net Dress that draws us in beautifully before it eases us wistfully into Negligees, the ultimate glamour with the witty realities of those impractical things.
I am particularly drawn to Caftans/Kaftans. The latter reminding readers like me that I treasured such a garment in 1975.
‘Now I feel,’ you’d say, ‘Swish and stylish, like Elizabeth Taylor, in a way.’
We are almost in the room.
We move to extraordinarily detailed pieces with the unforgettable Mascara, receptive of much womanly spit in a hard block case. In Clear Nail Varnish, we can hear a mother’s echo so distinctly. Plus the painful Face Packs, and The Home Perm. Truly mother territory, agonising yet cherished
Mum and a pile of turquoise plastic rollers in the sink.
Weren’t they endless?!
Pond’s Cold Cream will put a shiver down the reader’s spine, recalling the sophistication of that pert white pot. A solid staple on the dressing table. The reader will become more wistful.
We move onto that disappearing domestic staple of Sunday Lunch and Toast and Dripping that will have us salivating, or an urge to run to the shop after reading Walnut Whips. Not to mention the other hallowed whip, Bird’s Instant Whip that has such intricate detail. Surprising the reader at how these foods are still treasured.
The subheadings are skilfully done, moving the reader to tears – and hunger. For instance, Mackeson still stays on the tongue.
Mum swore by a daily dose.
They did indeed. Then we visit that fabulous adage of the sophisticated Rothmans. Once a vital social prop.
Rothmans were elegant.
Such a true line.
Snowball reminds us of that extraordinary illuminated yellow drink with the panache of the vivid red cherry – a ritual once for ladies in my own family. In Darning Socks, a clear and bittersweet image of every mother armed with a large needle and a dark sock will come to mind.
Socks worn until they resemble holey cheese.
Classic line.
Knitting Patterns, once a commonplace sight in every household, visually beautiful and much missed, and the Football Pools now nudged onto the internet, that lost its personal interaction on the doorstep.
Accelerating to darker waters and a layer is stripped away with the poignant Miscarriage and the real hazards of Agoraphobia.
And no-one else could see the world that she could see.
A very private hell indeed.
The stirring Writing Letters and Stories will remind us of that regular occupation with Basildon Bond and other relevant material, such that is used in this glorious piece. A very private view of a lost world. We forget the volume of letters written back then.
We travel right back to a wartime childhood with Little Sister, that unravelled family traumas and every girl’s terror of spinsterhood. A terrible fate back then.
The heartbreaking Desmond really gives us an insight into the poet’s mother’s other life, a cad being a recurring theme through generations, then we are even more illuminated by the astoundingly visual Terry Wogan’s Fight the Flab. Dean Martin gives us a haze of glamour from that glossy show and constant cigarettes.
Now she’s gone, we share Dean Martin Live at The Sands.
A very poignant link and an apt way to end this touching collection.
Some of you will want to stay on this journey and go round again. I highly recommend that you do.
Do treat yourselves to a copy, PL’s. Available on Amazon now.
Also catch Trisha Broomfield’s poetry page on Facebook. Great pieces put on there.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry adventures real soon….
I thought I’d revisit my old pals, the Tricubes. Always loved them. They’re great company.
Do you remember the rules? 3 line stanzas, 3 stanzas and 3 syllables a line. Do try one, they’re great fun. I’ve done one on food, but I’m not sure why Dobby’s crept in there.
Read on….
Stupid Twit
You burnt it
Once again
Charred supper
Daft bugger!
Yes, explain..
Take away
Every day
You’re a pain!
HM 2024
What do you think, PL’s? I’d love to see one from you. Any subject. Dobby will edit them on their arrival.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
Welcome to September. And what’s the best way to start this significant month?! Yes! Some life advice. I’ve thought through everything and I’m sure I’ve covered it all in this piece.
Of course, I welcome your own thoughts but meanwhile, do read on…
Life Advice
First of all, get yourself a good quality coat
Through every outing, it’ll keep you afloat
A nice pair of shoes, but don’t drive in them, my dear
You’ll ruin them for good as you change gear
(Fake) pearls – not such a tragedy if the chain breaks
They’ll give you confidence to have what it takes
A classic regular dish – don’t say fish and chips
A solid home cooked meal should pass your lips
A tablecloth spread out – one of your Mum’s
Much loved material that will pick up crumbs
A Good bra – ignore that pretty one in Primark
Get a well fitted one from John Lewis or Marks
Cotton knickers – the same principle applies
Don’t get skimpy, and keep plenty of supplies
A Good skirt – hung up there in your wardrobe
To be treasured and worn like a luxurious robe
Good trousers that are classic is a nice asset
You’ll feel like a movie star on a Hollywood set
any cardigan is a good one, if you ask me
Cashmere or acrylic, wear it flauntingly
But Being kind is much harder than you think
Just keep being nice even if the company stinks
A Good sense of humour a must-have – but don’t worry
if they don’t laugh, they’re the ones who will be sorry
HM 2024
Well, PL’s, I hope that’s put us on the right track for a new month. Let’s see what September will bring us….and I look forward to any further advice.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
This poem by lovely poet Trisha Broomfield from her first collection The Equator and Other Disappointments really struck a chord with me – with us. Mostly the pack of lies grown-ups told us when we were children! And how we fell for it!
I also recall how I was betrayed by Beano comic that Australasia was upside down! Apparently it isn’t! How could the hallowed Beano spin me a line like that?! There, you see how the bitterness is unleashed. Shame on you, Beano!!
Read Trisha’s frank and personal piece below, and I think you’ll feel the way I do….
The Equator and Other Disappointments
They told me if I watched the water as we crossed the Equator
It would
Flow the opposite way
Down the plughole but it didn’t
They told me if I was good when I had my tonsils out
I could have ice-cream
But they brought me junket
Have you any idea how that tastes?
They told me if I ate the skin from the fish
I would be brainy
Really
They told me if I ate all the crusts from my toast
I would have curly hair
And if I finished my supper
there would be no starving children
in the world
TB 2016
There you are, Poetry Lovers, so true, it’s almost painful. What nonsense were you told as a child?! Adults were just awful, weren’t they?!
A beautiful piece, Trisha. Thank you so much for letting me publish it on here.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…..
Welcome back to the Talk Show studio (audience cheer rapturously)
Today, our special guest is prolific and talented poet Adam Gary (standing ovation)
Dobby! Let him in!
(Eventually) our esteemed guest glides elegantly down the lighted stairs. (Rapturous applause)
Welcome to the show, Adam. I hope Dobby didn’t give you a too hard a time back there.
Hi! Thank you so much for letting me take part in this!
No problem, Dobby just demanded Dreamies. Luckily, I had a packet on me!
That’s a relief! Thank you so much for coming on the show.
Why don’t you fill us in on your background, Adam?
My first creative passion was performing arts which is what I had started pursuing first from 12yrs old right up until about 26.
I’m a proud alumnus of the National Youth Theatre and have found myself on some pretty exciting sets over the years.
25 was when I began transitioning into poetry, and my exploits with that include a YouTube channel (Adam Gary Poetry) where I make videos of all styles, but always centred around poetry.
I also have a company called The Poetry Cove, where I’m trying to create the most extensive poetry community available.
From a community forum, magazine, online school, we even had a 24hr poetry radio station at one point, which I hope to get back to when things are more financially suitable.
I’m also now at the forefront of a new county Laureateship programme, which aims to bring more poetry events across the whole of Surrey, which I’m very passionate about.
Gosh! The hallowed National Youth Theatre. Only the best get in there. So impressive.
They’re really impressive projects, Adam. And I can certainly recommend your YouTube channel…
When did poetry become a part of your life?
My journey with poetry has been an ironic one. When the poetry module came round in year 10 or 11, I survived just one class. The rest I used to truant and bunk off over on the heath that backed on to my school, Feltham Community College; I think it’s rebranded now to an academy.
Funny to think that, when I’ve now wound-up teaching basic poetry writing to mayors! I don’t blame the teacher; it just never sparked my teenage, rebellious side.
Then when I was 18, I wrote my first poem for the first love of my life and electricity raced through my veins. It felt like an actual physical thing happening inside of me. The best way I can describe it is the moment Harry Potter gets his wand. I never felt that with acting.
After that, my poetry writing went dormant for about 3 years – but the sensation always stuck with me. Then, on the underground to work, I was reading an autobiography by Ray Manzarek, ‘My Life with The Doors’ and discovered Jim Morrison was an avid poet and poetry appreciator.
Once I found out that The Lizard King himself found poetry worthwhile, I fully accepted my inner poet and haven’t looked back since!
I have happy memories of that school from Slimmer’s World! A lifeline to me once.
I drive past it a lot, it’s looks completely changed now.
It’s funny isn’t it where life takes us. It sounded like the time just wasn’t right. It certainly is now.
When did poetry become a part of your life ?
Coming from a performance background, and growing up in England, Shakespeare has been inescapable. He is my biggest influence. His technique and word choice and influence he’s had is admirable and definitely something I look up to.
On the other side of that, the other biggest influence on me has been Jack Kerouac, of the beat generation. Two very different voices and styles, which I like to think somehow fuse together in my own work.
Fascinating influences, Adam, especially the latter.
Are you working on anything at the moment?
Just the other day I started work on an anthology I will be publishing through The Poetry Cove. It will collect poetry from the 1600s right up to 1920s.
I’m also slowly putting together my next limited-edition Chapbook. I started making DIY chapbooks – my first being Fungal Matter, which came out in April and is themed on mental health.
They are handmade and each one I try to make individual with a slight tweak on the cover somewhere and are numbered on the inside like a collector’s item type thing.
Oh beautiful, I’ve always wanted to do that. They’re a joy and a treasure.
Okay, (sweeps everything off the desk – the audience gasp)
What is the best gig you’ve ever done? And the worst?!
Gosh! That’s really difficult. Every time I visit an open mic night for the first time, I truly leave elevated. I love being in new surroundings and enjoying new poets.
Each open mic night has its regulars and it may sound odd, but I enjoy observing each different friend group and witnessing the bond they’ve forged through their poetry.
Open mics always recharge me, and I get up the next morning feeling like I’ve had a night on the town, less the hangover.
The worst night? Actually, a couple of weeks ago I was at a night and I thought I’d gotten there early. I hadn’t, I was right on time but I was the first POET to arrive.
The organisers had set up and were enjoying a cold brew before the festivities kicked off, but centre stage was a gentleman rather off his rocker. It was only 7pm and the night hadn’t even begun and there was this guy barely able to sit up straight in his seat.
For clarity, he clearly wasn’t there for the poetry… he had been day drinking in another part of the venue and had wandered through to our bar.
Anyway, as you can imagine he didn’t sober up as the night went on, rather the opposite, until eventually he was asked to leave by the landlord. Of course, he didn’t go quietly and didn’t leave until he’d slammed a few doors and called our host a few names I shan’t repeat here.
He was very appreciative of the live music (it was a mixed night), getting up and giving it full air guitar, but less so with the poetry. It was difficult to get through my set but thankfully I’ve managed to build a thick skin from the inevitable hate comments one receives when putting yourself out there on platforms like YouTube. All in good fun, eh?
Lordy! What a learning curve!
I’ve also experienced difficulties with inebriated patrons, their ungenerous presence can really put you off. But you’ve seemed to come out of it as a stronger person.
You’ve been a fascinating guest, Adam. Where are you off to now?
Well, I’ve got some Dreamies left to bribe Dobby to take me to an exclusive open mic
Dobby told me it was all booked up! I should have known!!
Have a lovely evening, and beware, Dobby gets a bit wild! Thank you so much for coming on the show, Adam.
(A standing ovation as the plucky and talented poet ascends the lighted stairs)
Wasn’t Adam a wonderful guest?! So full of insight. Do look at Adam’s website, it’s brilliant. http://www.adamgary.co.uk
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…..
Welcome to our Poetry Tea Break. We all deserve one of these as hard-working poets!
The prolific and talented Trisha Broomfield has summed up this vital backbone-of-the-nation drink very well, and how we would do anything sometimes for a cup. And it’s a ghazal – a form in which I fall at the fence. So that makes it even more special.
Read on, it’s marvellous ….
Ghazal TEA
It’s been eight hours since my last cup of tea
I’m close to going out and buying a cup of tea
Cappuccinos, lattes, espressos will not do for me
fobbing me off with Ovaltine? I’m spying a cup of tea
my poor old body’s starved of tannin not to mention
caffeine of a certain strength, there’s no denying a cup of tea
I know you have some, I’ve heard the kettle, seen the tea cosy
hot chocolate will not do, you’re lying, you have a cup of tea
I sneak a peek in your kitchen cupboard, wrong I know
I can see the box and the caddy, I’m prying, there’ll be a cup of tea!
I see a real pot and strainer, I just need boiling water, leaves
that’s all a girl like me needs for scrying, a real cup of tea
I’m desperate, any tea, provided it’s hot and wet will do
almost, though I draw the line at herbal. I’m trying a Rooibos cup of tea.
Well that was ghastly, Rooibos doesn’t do it for me
compromising doesn’t suit, I’m still dying for a real cup of TEA!
Heather Moulson 