Here are two great events I’m looking forward to..
Yes, Poems Not Bombs at the wonderful Spice of Life in Soho. Hosted by the fabulous Paul McGrane. I look forward to joining the lovely Trisha Broomfield there.
And relishing this great event at The Chapel Bar & Bookshop in Broadstairs on the 12th August. A beautiful setting with beautiful poets and beautiful poetry.
Hosted by the wonderful Nick Goodall. Can’t wait. Get there! Don’t miss it!
As we all know, PL’s, there are other hot events coming up. Will keep you informed every step of the way!
Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
With playing host, we mostly think of guests coming to dinner. Which can be a nice occasion but not always the case when the shoe is on the other foot!
Who’s been stuck at someone’s table and served absolutely vile food?! And you dreamt about that cheese sandwich you’re going to have at home through every course?! Yes! We’ve all been this sort of guest, haven’t we.
This piece I hope sums it all up. Please read on ….
Dinner
They say Dinner is a state of mind
But unfortunately butternut squash is real
On a par with anything named Gratin
A form of torture passed off as a meal
Certain dishes spell out Doom
Aubergine bake is best to avoid
Simply embrace the cheeseboard
Because vegetables make you paranoid
Anything with tofu in is also hell
You long to grill cheese on toast
Just be grateful there’s no lentils involved
And plan revenge for when you’re host
I hope you enjoyed that piece, PL’s, and maybe you have had a similar situation at a strange dinner table.
Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…..
Now, hands up who had to quickly sort out their summer clothes? As I suspected, all of us!
Where did this heatwave come from?! Why are we always caught out by this every summer?! And when you drag these poor clothes out, they look pale and uninspiring!
Fantastic poet, Trisha Broomfield has summed this frustration up nicely and poignantly in a super pantoum.
Do read on, it will strike a chord in all of us!
Summer Clothes
My summer clothes are raggedy
they slump about all limp on chairs,
no elegance, a tragedy.
Pink dresses layered in cat hairs
they slump about all limp on chairs.
The mirror never shows me smart,
pink dresses layered in cat hairs
in winter dressing is an art
the mirror never shows me smart,
linen crumpled, viscose creased.
In winter dressing is an art
boobs are hidden not released
linen crumpled, viscose creased,
with corns and bunions on display
boobs are hidden not released
white sandals have been out since May
with corns and bunions on display.
No elegance, a tragedy
white sandals have been out since May
my summer clothes are raggedy.
Trisha Broomfield 2025
Wasn’t that a lovely wistful piece?! Thank you so much, Trisha and more please. We’ve got a wardrobe in all of us, so poems on a postcard please to….
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…
Now we turn to the Toaster. Wonderful poet Sharron Green has penned a beautiful piece on how a toaster can really be a vital part of our lives.
Despite cussing when my own toaster pops up with charcoaled bread, I couldn’t be without one either. Do you remember toasting bread under the grill?! Dire!!
Do read this great poem..
A poem about my Toaster
As a non-cook, but clearly a boaster, I’m exceedingly fond and proud of my toaster.
It enables creations to be more than they might, heating cross buns to a crunchy delight.
My crumpets become a delicate shell in which oodles of butter cosily dwell.
It has a timer, that I’ve learnt to turn to exactly the spot between ‘just right’ and ‘burn’.
I’ve the option of one slice, two or all four (and when they pop up, I can swiftly post more).
My signature dish, ‘Beans on Toast’ (must be Heinz) with shavings of cheese, pleases hearts if not minds.
I know as a chef I’d never get far but my toaster and I are Michelin Star.
@rhymes_n_roses
Isn’t it marvellous?! And true?! Thank you so much, Sharron, more please.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll return with more poetry action real soon….
Yes, you should be excited, because our special guest today is unique and prolific poet Ted Gooda!!
(Standing ovation as our esteemed guest glides on)
Welcome to the show, Ted. So glad you have you as a guest
(audience agree heartily)
Great to be here, Heather. Love what you’ve done with the place!
Thank you. Dobby chose the colours. Of course decorating’s not the same since Homebase went. Sob!
Why don’t you fill us in on your background?
A bit about myself? I began life as ‘Theresa McEvoy’ in North London, but my parents ran pubs and we moved to one in Billingshurst, West Sussex when I was around 11.
Coming from London and stepping off a train into that deserted village on a Sunday afternoon, I thought I’d moved to the end of the world. I rushed back to London as soon as I was old enough.
I studied English & Theatre Arts at Goldsmiths College, by which time most people were calling me ‘Ted’ or ‘Teddy’ instead of Theresa. I trained as a lighting designer, taking 4 shows to the Edinburgh Festival in the late 1990s and working in lots of fringe theatre venues around Central and South East London.
I did plenty of travelling and even lived in Australia for a while, before deciding it was time to curb the wanderlust and be a grown-up: I trained as an English and Drama teacher.
In my late 20s, I realised my parents might have been on to something, and moved right back to that deserted village. I taught for more than 25 years in schools in Surrey and Sussex as well as returning to Australia to teach in Hamilton, Western Victoria.
Before the pandemic, I’d accidentally become a ghostwriter, and as the writing contracts grew, I gradually stepped back from teaching, although I still teach run creative writing workshops from time to time. I made the leap and write full-time, (I’m just on ghostwritten book number 16), plus organise literary festivals.
This is fascinating, Ted. What vast ground you have covered!
When did poetry become a part of your life?
Poetry has always been there, I think. I wrote terrible poetry in my teens – about the storm of ‘87, the Gulf War, environmental disasters, things that were in the news. Very earnest and very awful. And I taught a lot of poetry over the years.
About 15 years ago I won a writing competition with a poem about becoming a mother, and that encouraged me to think I could do more. I finally published my first collection of poems, Silence & Selvedge, in 2024.
Oh I want a copy! We get that turning point, don’t we.
Who were your biggest influences?
My favourite poem as a child was I Saw a Jolly Hunter by Charles Causley. I learnt it by heart and thought it was hilarious. Another favourite, that I could probably still recite now, was Oh, I Wish I’d Looked After Me Teeth by Pam Ayres.
And I loved all the poems that snuck into Beatrix Potter’s stories.
As a student, I got heavily into Irish poetry (the McEvoy influence perhaps?), especially Yeats and Heaney. But Luke Wright has probably had the single biggest practical influence on my poetry life. I love his poetic word-play and the energy of his live shows.
I met him early on in my teaching career when he did a bunch of school performances and have been a fan ever since.
Oh Luke Wright! Swoon! He was the first performance poet I ever saw! Great influences, Ted.
Are you working on anything at the moment?
You know me, Heather, I don’t sit still. After coordinating the Farnham Literary Festival in March, and BilliLit in April, I’m performing in a theatre show at the Brighton Fringe for May. It’s called Mannequim. I co-wrote it with Lexy Medwell and it’s full of poetry, exploring all sorts of gender issues and tackling that question of what it means to be a woman. (Quite timely given last month’s controversial ruling.)
Then The Shrinking Girl, ghostwritten for Louise Allen, comes out in June. I’m directing one of my favourite plays for Billingshurst Dramatic Society, My Mother Said I Never Should by Charlotte Keatley, which will be on in July.
I have a couple of poetry events booked for August and September and then my second poetry pamphlet, The Pull of Water, will be out later in the autumn.
Well, I am bowled over at your prolificness. What a year you are going to have!
(Audience cheer in agreement).
Now, What’s the best poetry gig you’ve ever done. And the worst?!
My best poetry gig was for the Shelley Memorial Project in 2024, where my name was on the bill with Louis de Bernières (although he had a longer slot than my 15 minutes). I’ve framed the poster. Will I ever top that?
My worst was around 4 years ago in Steyning, a village which has a rather famous resident. There were about 20 of us in a pub doing a single poem each, which had to be Christmas-themed.
It was almost my turn, when a woman arrived late and squashed in beside me, thereby taking the next slot. She recited, by heart, a beautiful, wholesome poem about a Christmas tree, which had just been published as The Christmas Pine. It was only Julia feckin’ Donaldson – and I had to follow her with my sweary poem about buying crap gifts as Christmas presents. It was mortifying.
Oh what a story! Love it! I know Steyning! I’ll look at it in a different light now!
Thank you, Ted for being such a great guest
(cheers from the audience)
Do I really have to end this interview on ‘mortifying’? You’re mean! 😉
au contraire! The poetry party is just beginning. Let me just get my platforms on.
Our host searches frantically under her chair
Where are they?!
Our esteemed guest looks sheepish
Ted?! Are you wearing my platforms?!
Er – well, Dobby sold them to me at a reasonable price and er ….. She’s rumpled us, Dobby. Quick!
(Our guest and Dobby leg it up the lighted stairs)
Ted won’t be able to run very fast in those!
Well, it’s back to Freeman Hardy & Willis for me!
Wasn’t Ted a fantastic guest, PL’s?!
(ecstatic applause from the audience and a standing ovation)
Do look out for Ted, she’s a wonderful poet. For a copy of Ted’s book Silence & Selvedge, go to Ted’s website to order http://theresagooda.co.uk
Thanks for attending the talk show studio, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
Today, as part of the Household series, I thought I’d have a go at the washing machine.
This is a little unjust really as it normally is a loyal member of your house.
However, I find it very controlling and I still bear a grudge about that horrible noisy Hotpoint twin tub my Mum used to have. It’s vibration rocking the whole house when I was trying to watch Blue Peter!
I could go on but I won’t. Instead I’ve tried to sum it up in the following piece. Read on
The thing with a washing machine is
The thing is with washing machines
Is you become intimate very quickly
It handles your smalls and underclothes
And stains embarrassing and sticky
It sounds reassuring and smooth
Not like your childhood family kitchen
With that evil and noisy Hotpoint twin tub
An obnoxious force and imposition
But it does have its own magic powers
And make your socks disappear
Maim expensive and loved garments
The price of indifference severe
So treat it with love and respect
Just the right amount of detergent
It wants to be part of your household
But not just a mechanical servant
HM 2025
I hope this resonated with you, PL’s. Stay tuned, we’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
For this post, I thought I’d feature things that are around us. These are usually domestic appliances and household goods, which I thought could be rich pickings.
These items come across as impersonal and yet they’re not. They become a part of us, and sweep up and clean our anguishes and emotions.
Anyway, I’ve picked on the dishwasher on this occasion. Do read on
The Thing with dishwashers is
Your plates reek of rinse aid
To them on a par with Kool-aid
your chinaware is sautéed
You don’t feel in control
your homeware losing its soul
Especially your dessert bowls
But no more scrubbing with suds
While wearing cheap rubber gloves
making you resentful yet smug
Consider your poor fading china
Vital to any kind of diner
Supermarket bought, not designer
Glasses discoloured and faded
The heart of your house invaded
You feel naked and violated
And you’re still scrubbing larger pans
Ruining your once girlish hands
Ironically only the dishwasher understands
HM 2025
I hope you liked that, PL’s. All domestic poems are welcome. A piece on the washing machine perhaps, or that dustpan and brush!
Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
Heather Moulson 