Poems in the Toilet and Elsewhere

I've had poems published in collections, anthologies, magazines and journals, broadcast on radio programmes (including BBC Radio 4's Poetry Please), displayed in galleries and concert venues, but in nothing quite as singular as Bob Walton's brainchild, the Poemas en el Banõ installation, which is happening in one of the toilets at El Rincón, where the wonderful monthly poetry night Under the Red Guitar is held.

Athough it's been in situ for a few months now, I went in it to have a look for the first time in February, and found my poem front row centre, behind the toilet rolls and with an honour guard of bleach. 

On this particular evening, the guest poet at Under the Red Guitar was Philip Gross, reading from his latest collection, 'The Shores of Vaikus', which made for a magical evening.

Another lovely venue, also with stained glass, is Riff Corner in Clevedon, where Dominic Fisher was reading in early February. Hopefully now the evenings are getting lighter, I can get out to more poetry readings, like when I travelled all the way to Teignmouth to listen to - and watch - Raymond Antrobus read  at Teignmouth Poetry Festival in March.

A day before my trip to Teignmouth, we'd hosted Wells Fountain Poets at Silver Street Poetry and Open Mic, in a celebration of Sara Butler and her collection of beautiful, clear-eyed poems, 'Waiting for a change'.

Sara's no longer well enough to read her work, so that honour went to her friends in Wells, and those poets Sara knew when she used to come up to Bristol to take part in one of the poetry groups the Leaping Word runs at Bristol Folk House. Here are some of them:

Meanwhile, I had a guest poet slot at Virtual Voices, which is hosted by my former classmate at Manchester Writing School, Cherry Doyle, and Kuli Kohli, on behalf of Offa's Press, which specialises in publishing and supporting poets from the West Midlands, and it was great to spend the evening listening to readings by poets that were new to me. 

Then it was down to Wells to meet up with the Wells Fountain Poets for a reading in the King's Head, which always feels like coming home to me, such is the warmth and friendliness of that group of fine poets. No photos of the actual reading, but I was given a hagstone afterwards, which I hung on my bedroom wall, so as not to get it mixed up with the stones I've found myself, and very well it looks too. 

And then, to round off a very busy week, a reading in Heron Bookshop, in their new, larger premises in Regent Street, Clifton, which again felt welcoming, and a friendly place to read challenging poems. Thanks to Lizzie and Harry for their welcome, and to Emily for the photo. 

A couple of lovely publications, in which my poems have the honour of appearing, have landed on my hall floor too. First, Issue 70 of Indigo Dream's 'The Dawntreader', with almost certainly the most beautiful cover I've ever seen for a poetry journal ... 

... and then, my contributor's copy of 'The Butterfly Book', by Andrew Fusek Peters and Jane Russ, published by Graffeg.

Oh, and the recording of Words and Ears at Bradford Roots, which I blogged about a while back, is available to hear on West Wilts Radio's The Poetry Place, thanks to Dawn Gorman and Peter O'Grady. You can hear it here.

Finally, a reveiw for 'Love the Albatross', written by Hannah Stone and published in 'The Lake' - you can read it here. (Have to say, I'm a little disappointed by the observation concerning my estranged child and how they might not find their truth in the poems, as they are perfectly able to speak their truth themself, and actually, I don't even tell my own story in the collection, but it's a small quibble in an otherwise constructive and positive reading.)

And that's it. My next poetry trip is to Totnes to read in the Barrel House on Wednesday 30th April, with Tom Sastry and Gora Ensemble also on the bill - if you're in the area and can be there, it would be fantastic to see you.

Daffodils on Dartmoor and poetry in Teignmouth

If ever a poet is worth travelling to hear read, it's Raymond Antrobus, and he was appearing in Teignmouth this last weekend, so I was able to combine my love of poetry with my admiration for Deaf culture (for Raymond is Deaf), and squeeze in a trip to my beloved Dartmoor just when the wild daffodils were blooming in the Teign valley. What good fortune.

My plan was to park at Steps bridge and walk the footpath through Cod Wood, along the right bank of the river, but for some reason it was closed off, so I walked instead through Dunsford Wood, on the opposite side. The first daffodils I spotted were all on the far bank, but it wasn't long before I encountered some Dunsford daffodils.

There was a lot of bracken in this particular spot, which meant the daffodils were spread rather more thinly than you might spread butter, which is the preferred density for daffodils, but I knew there'd be more upstream ...   

... and after passing fungi, clumps of wood anemones, and many magnificently mossy trees, we reached them. 

The bum of a bumblebee (Common Carder, I think)

A sight to butter up the spirits.

robin

Most of the primroses I so associate with Devon had gone over, but there were still a few in shadier pockets of the wood.

A pair of goosanders

On the return leg I sat on a bench for a while, to which there was a small plaque attached. Forgive me, human Ted, to whom the bench was dedicated, but the Ted I was remembering was my dog, who did, indeed, love Devon, and Dartmoor in particular. Always in my heart.

Wood anemones - yet to bloom - in the crook of a tree

The weather had turned by the time I reached Teignmouth, and it was overcast and blustery, with the high tide making a walk along the beach impossible, but it was good to be there all the same.

Meanwhile, the welcome from poetry friends in Teignmouth and the surrounding area was warm, and Raymond's reading, of poems written in English but incorporating a significant amount of British Sign Language, was enthralling. It really did seem to have a profound effect on the members of the audience, many of whom I suspect hadn't had the privilege of much exposure to Deaf culture, and I couldn't help thinking how wonderful it would be to get him to visit the deaf school where I work. Our students would love it. Maybe one day.