Here I am just walking into the Memory Corner now, after going to Pricerite. Bloody Delorean’s got a puncture so I had to bus it here!
I was so delighted to find these photos from 3rd December 2018.
I was honoured to be invited to be featured poet at Donall and Janice’s wonderful 1000 Monkeys in Guildford. Set in a beautiful pub called the Keep.
How I remember the lovely Christmas feel and the vibrant atmosphere there. Especially after two Gin and Tonics! My, they serve big ones in there! So I admit I was nervous but once I got behind that stand, the World was mine!
I don’t know what it is, but everytime I’m photographed reading poetry, there seems to be no audience at all! I swear there were people present – honestly!
I used my Beano notebook because ‘Bunty I Miss You’ had yet to get off the press. In a way, that made it more exciting, the anticipation of being published. So I worked that Beano notebook very hard.
Thank you Donall and Janice for giving me such wonderful memories and taking a chance on me. The audience seemed pleased so hopefully I delivered.
Let’s pray those days will come back soooon…..
Tune in again for another interview!! Book your tickets now!! Same time, same channel ….
Greetings, Poetry Lovers! Intriguing title eh? Certainly got me looking!
This is the title of another beauty, penned by the lovely and talented Trisha Broomfield. Bringing back the memory that we’ve all been to school with someone like this, a classmate who outgrows us very quickly……
Read on
The Second Stain
She’d missed double maths,
no surprise, we thought she’d be skiving
off somewhere,
during needlework, she reappeared
brittle blonde newly backcombed
frosted fudge lipstick overdone
a languid look in her smoky eyes
a glint of knowing, a hint of,
don’t dare ask,
suddenly she was older than us
her clothes, pulled on in haste
bunched odd buttons together
but it wasn’t that
nor the fact that someone had seen her
lying flat in the graveyard grass
a biker beside her
it was the stain the shape of a
continent
on the front of her white blouse
with a matching one,
a second stain
dark like Coca Cola
on the back
Trisha Broomfield
I’ve tagged a nice glamorous one of Trisha on the end here as a Thank You. Wasn’t that a joy? Keep them coming, Trisha.
Thanks for looking in, PL’s. Don’t touch that dial because we have an interview with the enigmatic and amazing Math Jones coming up…..so get queuing! Same time, same channel….
Welcome back to the Poetry Basket Review – and who is in the Poetry Basket today? Answer – the wonderful Carla Scarano D’Antonio and her debut collection Negotiating Caponata!
A wonderful and innovative collection and a joy to review. I’ve known Carla for a while now, and her prolific writing and performances are always impressive. Glad to see Carla’s now in print. Scroll down for a cracking review –
Negotiating Caponata
by Carla Scarano D’Antonio
This beautifully designed debut book of poetry, written by the prolific poet, Carla Scarano D’Antonio, is a very personal collection that presents us with real human values, voices and relationships.
Pajarita embraces us at the beginning of the book. The definition of a delicate yet empowered bird designed in folded paper, that takes us gently on the poet’s journey.
Poignantly unravelling, and placed into three very significant sections, we are greeted by the book’s title – Negotiating caponata which is an emotional reflection expressed in food and its preparation. That part of our lives that we value, but often don’t see. Its subtext ignored, we regularly put food into our mouths and satisfy our hunger without a second thought. The poet’s words emphasises its very significance.
Parsley and Special carbonara have vivid and colourful images of food expressed with the emotion that it is prepared and ate with. Described lingeringly and with passion.
Cooking betrayal is a personal favourite. Where tensions and family issues are tangible, and say so much. A very human situation indeed.
Farina Manitoba also speaks volumes. Midwinter stew being the ultimate comfort food but with a tense overtone. Followed by the stunningly described piece What I was leaving.
Only a cake, a tribute to The Edible Woman, my favourite Margaret Atwood book, has intense detail and a very disturbing comparison.
The second section titled My Father’s Death moves us to a new emotional level, and the poet opens up another dimension.
Early flight is a highly significant journey, and one of many heart-breaking trips to a mother country – “The suitcase is heavy with books” indicates the emotional heaviness weighs a lot more.
Your illness, despite being beautifully written, is hard to read objectively. We tend to turn away from raw truth, and the frank history of a long marriage.
At the hospital, the poet takes us every inch of the way, especially with the last moving line – “Don’t you dare – you said from your deathbed.”
Your last words perversely say’s an awful lot. Words packed with emotion, and a loss emerging like a heavy shadow.
Dispersing your ashes conveys a detailed and vivid story that could only come from real real loss and sadness. A good strong piece to end this razor-sharp section.
In Touch, the last section reflects both ghosts, and family members very much alive. The contrast working well. .
Grandad Ciccio and Grandma Orsola create a strong montage. A lovely tribute to a previous generation. They build a fascinating tableau.
Mum during the war reflects hardship and families pulling together through the harshness of war. Their men gone to fight, they have to fend for themselves.
Childhood tales unravel in Snake eggs, and In touch with my daughter in Tokyo reflects the genuine ache for a grown child. Another painful loss.
Walking through the seasons is a frank and moving account of the year, vividly describing details of nature that opens up to us like a complete picture. Reflective and colourful. The new house – the penultimate poem is a moving account of a new start, and the love and hope that comes with it. A good ending.
A terrific personal collection. I would recommend such a poignant journey. I can’t wait to hear more.
HM 2020
For a real treat, order a copy of Carla’s collection from http://dempseyandwindle.com price £8.00. Worth a read.
My! Is it October already?! – Well, it’s come up with the goods weather-wise! Cold, grey weather like October’s of yesteryear! Keep up the good work! None of this 20 degree nonsense.
I’ve penned a poem about October Harvest Festival set in 1967….
Sit tight….
October
Girls carried goods in a box
I just clutched a tin of beans
I handed it in to the Harvest Festival
Dreaming of other things
The Vicar looked down his nose
at the single tin – I went red.
“We’d like to thank you for all your
generous gifts,” he sarkily said.
My Mum said “Ignore ‘im!
Thinks he’s too good for us lot!
Mean old sod should be grateful,
all that bloody stuff he’s got!”
I didn’t really give a stuff,
it just got me out of class.
It was half-term soon, then
Xmas, he could stuff it up his…
..
I’m racking my brains here, readers, to find the missing word. Answers please on a postcard to…
Any poems about this harvesting month, please do send them in.
Anyway, thank you for watching, tune in for more poetry antics, same time, same channel…..
Hello, Poetry Lovers, welcome to the show! Today we have the unique, wonderful, innovative Celine Hispiche!!
(pandamonium)
Now settle down, PL’s.
(gives them a stern look, audience sit down meekly)
Excellent. Face the front!
Because here she is! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Celine Hispiche!
Hello and welcome to the show, Celine! A greeting from Dobby there, with a secret message to Belu
Thank you for having me, Heather
(rubs her shoulder)
And may I say I love that crochet mini dress, and wet look boots! So cool eh, poetry lovers?! (cheering brings the house down)
Thank you. Sat up several night crocheting this! Still catching up on sleep, and I hope to God I’ve cast it off properly!!
It’s so wild, my sweet! I’m gonna get a crochet hook during the break!
Now, Celine, I’m desperate for you to fill us in on your rich musical and writing background……
I have always been drawn to music, my dad used to manage punk bands when I was a kid. I loved getting into his Morris Minor and driving to different recording and rehearsal rooms. I did my first stand-up gig at 14 at the Frog and Nightgown on The Old Kent Road and I knew then that the stage was for me.
Growing up with the sounds of Edith Piaf and Poly Styrene really inspired me to write in yer face material. I joined the Royal Young People’s writing group when I was 19 and was lucky to work with some talented writers ie April D’Angelis and Hanif Kureishi. I was a featured writer and had my work put on at The Tabernacle in Notting Hill and upstairs at The Royal Court.
I then honed in on my comedy act and performed on the main stage at Glastonbury.
Next port of call was Manhattan where I toured all along the East Coast, including the famous Catskills where Lenny Bruce graced the stage.
Another great honour was performing for Louise Bourgeois at her private salon in NYC. I have had four consecutive years at the Edinburgh Festival. Music and comedy has seen me writing my first musical, five one woman shows and working with Marc Almond and Dave Ball from the legendary Soft Cell.
Lumme, Celine! What a great background and learning curve! There are least four names that that made me swoon. And growing up with the Punk movement there – what a childhood! You’re solid gold! The real thing!
(very emotional applause)
Who were your greatest influences?
My Irish nan as she was a fantastic mimic and storyteller. My Dad Mo, he’s so rock n’ roll. The famous Caberet album and film. Soft Cell, Music Hall, Weimar and Parisian Cabaret. History. People in general and their life stories.
Amazing influences, Celine. Adored Cabaret, played that record thin. Still know the words. And yes, it’s amazing who are under our noses and the things they can tell us.
Now, you’re a big part of Soho, and you have opened doors for a great array of talent. Tell us about Celine’s Salon and how it started.
Celine’s Salon was born in 2015 at The Society Club in Soho. I’m a huge fan of Gertrude Stein and wanted to create my own unique salon.
With my love for cabaret I coined the term Literary Cabaret to bring life and rhythm to the evening. Featuring writers from all genres is our main purpose. Encouraging and supporting and giving writers an appreciative platform to share their work. We now have a monthly residency at Gerry’s Club on Dean Street which we hope to be back in the early new year.
And what about the innovative and cultural Soho Radio show?
Ahhh, I love the radio show. It was always on my wish list to have my own show and ironically Soho Radio was my first choice.
As a Soho boho resident I like being part of the community. Soho is a very tight community and filled with all walks of life. The Salon is a major feature of the show where I invite salon performers to come on as my guests. We also like artists and musicians to come on so we can support their work and spread the word.
Do you want to share your next project with us?
I will be running a series of monthly one woman shows in Soho from late November. The venue is super secret at the moment as we have to wait and see what the current situation will be as the winter comes in. I am really hoping all performers will be back in venues in the not to distant future.
My shows are based on left field women through history from Nell Gwyn to the Marchesa Casati to name but a few.
I will also be working in the new year on a very flamboyant cabaret show and the return of Celine’s Salon, fingers crossed, will be heading up to Glasgow as soon as we get the green light!
Celine! This is so impressive! What a year you’ve got ahead of you! I really want to get my mitts on those one-woman shows! You’ll be dynamite!
Isn’t she prolific and talented, Poetry Lovers?!
(deafening applause.)
Thank you so much for coming on the show, my sweet. It’s been fascinating and wonderful!
(a standing ovation with remaining security standing by)
Now my dear, shall I meet you in The French House with that handsome Ken Thomson ? Or the John Snow with that good-looking Welsh man, Iain Richards?
Umm…. afraid they’re both closed for a private booking, Heather. Iain, Ken, Gary, Pinky and I are invited but er……
I’ll get on that guest list someday! Mark my words! Meanwhile, it’s watching the telly with Dobby.
(Celine coughs awkwardly)
Oh, I see! Dobby’s been invited…. say no more…
Thank you so much for coming on the show, Celine, such an inspiring interview.
(applause, standing ovation, the lot)
Celine gracefully ascends the lighted stairs before being smuggled out in a van.
Celine has left the building!
Wasn’t that a wonderful interview?! Thanks for watching, tune in same time, same channel………
The lovely poet, Sharron Green has come up with these two beautiful pieces about September. They’re such a treat! And in really exciting styles…. Read on…
September – a troilet
Orange leaves are all aglow
Golden fields yield harvest grain
Roses relish one last show
Orange leaves are all aglow
Grey geese gather up and go
Blue skies switch to sulky rain
Orange leaves are all aglow
Golden fields yield harvest grain
Sharron Green 2020
September – a double acrostic
Sweet berrieS
Emerge wherE
Petals droP
The day’s heaT
Ebbs to thE
Moon’s bright beaM
Bonfire’s criB
Embers racE
Red leaves roaR
Sharron Green 2020
Aren’t these wonderful? So very clever. Thank you, Sharron.
Now tune in shortly for another interview! Yes, get queuing now!
We have a real delight for you in the talk show chair, Celine Hispiche. Yes The Celine.
Gosh September, where have you gone?! Has lockdown made you fly away so quickly? And why are you hot now?!
I always think of September as the start of the new year. I suppose this was because we always went back to school then.
Somehow I expect it to turn colder on the very first day. I suppose the prospect of going back to school immediately put a chill on things. The most boring of summers was still preferable to actually doing that.
Anyway, I’ve penned an acrostic poem as a tribute to September 2020.
September
Shed looks a bit of a state – but have you seen the price of them?!
Embracing the autumn air – as much as you can in 29 degrees!
Packing away summer bedding and clothes – only to get them back out again quickly!
There used to be proper autumns! Russet skies and leaves falling.
Embers of summer memories – holidays cancelled and overspending in Tesco!
Muted sounds as children go back to school – good bloody riddance!
Bollocks to this! I’ve got to wash out my face mask again!
Evening time and the sky darkens swiftly – an end to another day of being stuck indoors.
Remember when there were proper autumns?
What’s on Netflix?
Now, PL’s, if you have any less foul-mouthed recollections of September 2020, do send them in. My contact form is now working.
Thank you for watching, Poetry Lovers, and let’s hope October cools down a bit……. Tune in same time, same channel…..
Welcome back to the Poetry Basket Reviews. We’re blowing off the dust, and evicting Dobby from there! We’re also rehoming PB to this page.
Out of there at once, Dobby!
Most honoured today to have Jenny Mitchell’s wonderful debut collection Her Lost Language, in the review basket. A joint winner of the Geoff Stevens Memorial Poetry Prize, Jenny has written work of raw emotion and poignancy.
The debut pamphlet, Her Lost Language, by the vibrant poet Jenny Mitchell, is a powerful read and unleashes voices that previously couldn’t be heard. Legacies of British transatlantic enslavement, and the Windrush generation are candidly voiced.
A joint winner of the Geoff Stevens Memorial Poetry Prize, this welcome collection is neatly placed into two sections. There are vivid homages to enslaved ancestors and others previously unacknowledged. Yet, it’s real power is the moving voices and strong human emotions.. With good use of tenses and verse that work well.
My Five Times Great Grandmother was Enslaved is a very personal piece in a collection of personal pieces, drawing us in deeper, until we feel we’re at the point of no return.
Song for A Former Slave, Someone Thank the Tailor, Black Men Should Wear Colour and Blood the Seamstress – with the incredible first line ‘I’ll be the dress she never owned’, are raw emotions and memories and tributes told through clothes, and other things next to our skin. A simple concept that opens doors to the very different life that ancestors have had. Vivid and detailed, yet the emotions are all ours.
Emancipating Ancestors is a tribute to those who died on slave plantations and opens a whole new and poignant chapter of suffering and inhumane history. We are confronted with how human beings could be so cruel to each other.
A personal favourite is Missing Grandmother, who worked so hard but never appeared in a photograph, nor any foreground, unlike the men of the family. This says so very much for the women who worked so thanklessly to get them there. Becoming Queen, opens another window of a hard life not documented.
My Family Shares its Voices jumps out at the reader, the brutal grandfather and the secret burden women still have to carry.
Before the Silence tells us of a young girl, against a strict upbringing, who really had no choice nor opportunity. Plus the father’s cruel punishment. The tenses work very well in this piece.
The collection turns about with the account of immigrants coming to Britain and their encounter with a cold and hostile new land. This is reflected in the incredibly detailed Strange Land. We get closer to the poet with The Bride and a Veil, and the loss of a father, and the mother’s reflections. The air of loss and mourning are tangible.
One stanza tells so much, two are powerful.
The Mess They Made and Monica Darling expresses the decline and sheer pain of a loved one with dementia, and how a mother can deny their children.
Retreat Jamaica (1939), is a candid account in two stanza sections of a difficult birth, and an account of how men would walk away from the woman’s agony. Here, the poet really excels and we are taken on this road. Taking His Leave gives us insight into an upbringing in sheer hardship, and a Mother’s suffering. We are reminded of what once had to be hidden, and we wouldn’t dream of not sharing this journey.
In Eve’s Lost Daughter, the images genuinely shock and disturb us, and as we cross to English Fields there are other tales from the outside that bring us the painful realisation that women were truly helpless.
Incident and Her Lost Language are a fitting and sad climax. Uncomfortable and very true, yet such compulsive reading.
This collection will stay with you, and touch things that we in so many ways ignore, but you’d still read it again. A triumphant debut.
