Fifteen days of poetry in spring

It's been a wonderful couple of weeks of poetry. First, it was the Lyra Bristol poetry festival, and although work commitments prevented me from going to a few events, I did manage to attend an online workshop led by Malika Booker, and I got to see my poetry hero, Ilya Kaminsky, who was one of the headline poets, and who lived up to my sky-high expectations.

And it was a  joy to have him sign my treasured copy of 'Deaf Republic', all battered and filled with notes from when I wrote an essay on it while I was studying for my Masters degree at Manchester Writing School. 

Talking of which, I also attended a showcase featuring some of the poets I studied with a few evenings ago, albeit online. This was my view for most of the evening, but no matter, the poems sounded great.

Throughout this past winter, the IsamBards, whose swan song it is this year, have been working hard, putting together an anthology of their poems, featuring poems from poetry walks held in the centre of Bristol and its floating harbour, the Bristol Botanic Garden, and Arnos Vale Cemetery, plus further sections entitled 'Brunel' and 'Books'. And now, at last, the anthology, called 'Dancing on the bridge', is in the world.

To accompany it, we've done three recent poetry walks, the first one - as part of Lyra Bristol Poetry Festival - on Bristol's waterfront. 

An interlude - with dog - on Narrow Quay

Reading at Pero's Bridge

Part of our rapt audience, which included John Cabot 

At Mud Dock, our final stop

Eight days later, we found ourselves at Arnos Vale Cemetery for two walks, this time as part of Bristol Walk Fest.

The ram's skull I found in Evilcombe on Dartmoor, many years ago, made an appearance as Yorick's skull during one poem

Our guide for the morning walk, Janine, at George Müller's grave

I'm always touched when flowers brimg themselves to a grave

Our guide for the afternoon walk was Alix, and her and Janine's knowledgeable presence made for fascinating walks.

magpie feather

With thanks also to the butterfly, which fluttered by while Janine was talking about Psyche, the goddess of the soul, who's often depicted with butterfly wings and who's the origin of the butterfly as a symbol for the soul, and to the sparrowhawk, which made an appearance seconds after IsamBard Dominic Fisher read his poem 'Sparrow', which features one.

And of course, my collection 'Love the Albatross' has continued to make its way in the world.  In addition to the reading I did in Totnes, also during this wonderful fortnight of poetry, Nigel Kent has kindly published both a short essay, written by me, on one of its poems - 'The counsel of hares' - which can be read here, and his own highly perceptive and empathetic review on the whole collection, which can be read here. 

Finally, from the same collection, my poem 'A betrayal', which was first published in issue 4 of The Fig Tree's online journal, has made its way into the 2024 anthology of poems, published by Tim Fellows of Broken Spire Press - many thanks to him also.

Poetry in the lengthening days of spring

After my trip to Devon last month and the IsamBards' poetry walk through the centre of Bristol, I might have expected things to quieten down a little, but poetry has continued to throw up plenty of surprises and delights.

The first, two days before our poetry walk, was the Bristol Poetry Institute's annual reading by Denise Riley, which had been postponed from just before Christmas. Having written an essay on Riley's collection, 'Say Something Back', while I was studying for my MA in Creative Writing, I was looking forward to re-encountering those mordant poems, but quite unprepared for the added intensity of hearing the poet read them and I have to say, they floored me to the point where I was a bibbling wreck when it came to have the evening's poetry purchase signed by Riley. Driving back along the Downs in the setting sun, all I wanted to do was get home and write - a common reaction after hearing a truly great poet (which sadly doesn't happen as often in Bristol as it used to.) 

The above-mentioned essay also considered 'Deaf Republic' by Ukrainian poet Ilya Kaminsky, and as luck would have it, Kaminsky gave the Annual Lecture of the Poetry Society on the theme 'Poetry in a Time of Crisis'.  Since it was held in Liverpool, my attendance was only virtual but it was a privilege to hear one of my very favourite poets addressing such an important matter, and also reading some of his poems from 'Deaf Republic'. 

Maybe the lecture will be made available in perpetuity in due course. I hope so, because there was too much to think about in one listening. In the meantime - or if not - here's Kaminsky reading 'We lived happily during the war'. 

Two more excellent poets guest-read at Satellite of Love this month, namely, Emma Purshouse and Steve Pottinger, both of whom manage to be hugely entertaining and thought-provoking, at the same time, which is A Feat, and Silver Street Poetry was our best yet, bidding farewell to the local poetry journal Raceme as it published its final issue. Three of the four editors guest read for us, and the open mic-ers who'd had a poem published in one of its issues all came clutching their contributor's copy to read from. I was honoured to emcee this farewell event, and I'll miss Raceme, but if its demise means the editors have more time to concentrate on their own poems, that will be some consolation.

One of my own poems - 'When an albatross crash-lands in a dream' - found a home at Ink Sweat & Tears this month, and settled in very comfortably, and London Grip published a thoughtful review of 'Learning Finity' by Clare Morris. Thanks to everyone involved with both of these forays into print. 

Finally, I got to read some of my poems at a bijou bookshop that hasn't long opened in Bristol, namely, Heron Books in Clifton arcade, along with Mab Jones, whose latest pamphlet is also published by Indigo Dreams. It was a beautiful late afternoon, full of leaves and sunlight and blossom, and the palpable feeling that summer is nearly here at last. Thanks to my publisher, Ronnie Goodyer, for agitating on my behalf, and proprietor Lizzie for organising it all.