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Double Bill and Kei Miller at Poetry Swindon Festival

2 Oct
Kei Miller – but imagine him without all that hair stuff. Photo by Erico Hiller
Double Bill book cover

Double Bill, probably the most confusing title ever. But still an awesome night.

On the surface it was a double bill of two poets, Andy Jackson and Kei Miller. Except Double Bill was the name of Andy’s bit; Kei’s was completely different. And Andy’s Double Bill had about ten poets reading which makes it, what, Tenfold Bill? Sounds like a bank note.

I know, I’m being facetious. Don’t shout at the screen. Double Bill is an old filmic reference. Double Bill was a roll call of aging popular culture, not necessarily loving tributes – this is a poetry night after all. Anyone under the age of thirty without a proper grounding in TV may well have been lost. But, for me, it worked like a top class open mic, the ‘rat pack of the poetry world’ as Andy Jackson described it.
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Ground Signs at Poetry Swindon Festival

2 Oct
Isabel Palmer

Isabel Palmer

Sometimes, listening to poetry reminds me of church-going as a child – I know it’s good for my soul but I just want to sleep. I read some terrible advice back then for lay people reading out the Bible readings: don’t detract from the words by being too animated, it’s not about the reader.

But Isabel Palmer today (Friday) at Poetry Swindon Festival caught me in the tear ducts like Robert Peake last year. Her collection, Ground Signs, was written, I think, as a way of keeping her sanity while her son became a soldier ‘coming of age doing the probably the most dangerous job an infantryman in Afghanistan can do’. Continue reading →

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Poetry Party begins early at Poetry Swindon Festival

2 Oct
Isn’t Lower Shaw Farm pretty?
52ers begin the party early

I’m sure the Poetry Party is Sunday. But it sounds like it’s started early.

Nope, it’s the 52ers, having reunion fun on the hammocks and mattresses of the Lower Shaw Farm play area, on day two (Friday) of Poetry Swindon Festival. Continue reading →

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I was Man for a Day at the Swindon Festival of Poetry

8 Oct

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That sounds fun, I thought, about being a man for a day. But I didn’t expect it to be such a challenge.

I don’t mean keeping the boobs flat (damn bandages kept rolling up), or keeping my ‘penis’ in place, or even perfecting the man’s walk when, essentially, a woman’s hips are different to a man’s.

Yes, these were annoying but all the women poets taking part in Diane Torr’s Man for a Day (Swindon Festival of Poetry) had these problems and it created a certain comradeship between us.

No, what was hard was knowing what kind of man I wanted to be. And this journey – for a while at least – was a lonely one. Did I want to be myself, but male? Did I want to be a man I admired? Or a man I didn’t?

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Battered Moons at the Swindon Festival of Poetry

7 Oct

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This year’s poetry competition didn’t quite go to the moon and back but they certainly made it to the other side of the world.

Judges David Morley and Cristina Navazo-Eguia Newton both took the entries on their travels. On the plane to Australia, David shared the poems around the passengers and asked them to read the poems aloud. Cristina took hers to her native Spain.

A good proportion of the winning pieces were about birds. “I’ve got a feeling some of the entrants researched my interests,” remarked David who’s into ornithology. Continue reading →

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The Roof of the World at Swindon Festival of Poetry

7 Oct

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As an English white woman, I wouldn’t describe Saturday’s event – The Evening News and The Roof of the World – as a culture shock (far too gentle for that) but it was a beautifully different experience.

The spoken poetry on Saturday was in Hindi by Mohan Rana. There were no English subtitles, but this didn’t matter. I opened my mind to it like I would music or dance; a different way of understanding, enjoying the musicality of the language.

To emphasis this and compliment the poetry, Mohan had invited his friend, ‘cellist Jo Quail, to perform alongside him. Jo had previously interpreted his poem The Colour of Water (From the Sea).

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Squandermania with Don Share and Barry Andrews at the Swindon Festival of Poetry

4 Oct
Don Share, editor of Chicago-based Poetry magazine, with musicians at Swindon Festival of Poetry
Event compere Sam Loveless

I guess the obvious question is: did I manically squander my evening last night? So I won’t ask that.

The music was very Cinematic Orchestra / The Free Association (David Holmes) – sinister moody-style jazz travelling from 1970s Shaft to Lemon Jelly.
And Don Share, editor of Chicago-based Poetry magazine, recited to the music.

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Imagined Sons with Carrie Etter at the Swindon Festival of Poetry

4 Oct
Carrie Etter

Carrie Etter

Quite an emotional day yesterday, beginning with Robert Peake and then Carrie Etter. Not to mention the film There is Nothing in the Garden with its toy babies in toilets on day one of the Swindon Festival of Poetry.

Carrie read from her third collection, Imagined Sons. It’s a surreal package of work about ongoing life trauma / serious stuff to work through about giving her son up for adoption at the age of seventeen.

Poetry might be wonderfully cathartic to write but it’s also an invitation to talk openly about traumatic subjects. I had no compunction in talking afterwards to both Carrie and Robert about both their losses knowing that it was almost certainly okay. There isn’t the embarrassment of the unknown, of how they would like me to act, the worry of causing emotional upset – I already had a heads up on where their heads are at. Continue reading →

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Erotic cupcakes – Swindon Slam! in Swindon Festival of Literature

12 May

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So it was Swindon versus love tokens in the final of the 19th Swindon Slam!, on Saturday night.

Bit of a brave decision, dissing the hosting town in your bid to be crowned King of Slam. I’ll admit I quite liked Robert Garnham’s* rhyming of ‘Billie Piper’ and ‘hyper’ and comparison of Swindon to Philip Scofield. I can see where he’s coming from. But whether this counted against him or whether Tina Saderhome’s* domestic tale of love tokens was better, I’m not sure. In case you were wondering, love tokens are those things which really test a relationship – not when your spouse/daughter is kidnapped to ensure you commit a presidential assassination**, no we’re talking about leaving the toilet uncleaned after, ahem, a bowel movement: ‘I didn’t realise you’d literally leave your shit lying around’.***

And – in the bit I was there for anyway – there was *breaking news* no poetry about sex. Unless you count the erotic way cupcakes were described in one stanza, and Fozzie Bear in another (‘Wear the Hat!’). Okay, these were the two poets that slammed in the final. So, actually, if you do want to win a slam, make sure your poetry is loaded with smut.

*This spelling is probably utterly wrong.
**Sorry, been watching all eight series of 24 again.
***This is an appalling paraphrase.

Words by Louisa Davison. Photos by Calyx Pictures.

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Swindon Festival of Poetry Finale

12 Oct

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Claire Trevien. A beautifully spoken poet in holey tights. Professionalism stripped when asked to speak in French on stage. She’s been in a Best British Poetry 2013 book, so, class act. I liked Introduction to Love, which was what would happen if the rules of writing a thesis were applied to a romantic relationship. You can probably guess.

(I missed Kim Moore. Soz. Apparently she was rather good.)

Elvis McGonagall. Richly deserved one-time World Slam champion. Hilarious lefty comedic political rantings. Harpooned the Queen, Prince Charles as ‘Prince of Biscuits’, Iain Duncan Antoinette ‘Drowning in debt? Then give us a wave / Sell yourself in Poundland. Try to save / Dance as you dig your own pauper’s grave / On 53 quid a week’, and Margaret Thatcher in A bed at the Ritz. Really doesn’t like Tony Blair either. Continue reading →

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