Tag: lewes

Poems for a Christmas concert

I was recently asked to select some readings to go in between the movements of a choral piece. The piece is Bob Chilcott’s On Christmas Night. In it, Chilcott sets a number of carols in a sequence, telling the Christmas story from the fall of Adam and Eve (yes, it hadn’t occurred to me that it starts there – Nativity Plays usually skip straight to the shepherds in the fields) – to the birth of Jesus.

I’ll come clean now – it was my husband who asked me, on behalf of the East Sussex Community Choir which he conducts. The project interested me, so even though I knew there wouldn’t be any payment on this occasion (!) I was happy to take it on.

The score suggests which readings would be suitable, but that others may be substituted. Now, I’ve been to plenty of concerts (especially at Christmas) where there are readings in between the music. Almost without exception they are either the standard Bible readings of ‘lessons and carols’ (such as the one that’s broadcast each year from King’s College Cambridge), or they are ‘light’ – passages from Dickens or ‘The night before Christmas’ by Clement Clark Moore, amusing Christmas-themed stories or anecdotes. Or else it’s Eliot’s Journey of the Magi.

I wasn’t interested in doing the ‘same old’, so I set out to find poems or texts that were by living/contemporary writers. I wanted secular, not sacred – words that would complement the religious story being told by the choir, and invite contemplation of the wider spiritual context – themes of wonder, joy, love, birth, death and the cycle of nature.

I topped and tailed with two extracts from A C Grayling‘s extraordinary The Good Book, a kind of secular Bible and a fascinating compilation of thousands of texts by philosophers, teachers, prophets, leaders, literary figures and writers. So, alongside the carol about Adam eating the apple and falling from grace, we are reminded how a tree bears both flowers and fruit, and its fruit is knowledge, which teaches the good gardener how to understand the world.  The closing extract is a short passage about the nature of wisdom, which parallels the Biblical story of the ‘wise men’.

For the rest of the readings I chose poems:

Janet Sutherland‘s ‘line’ from her collection Hangman’s Acre takes us into a wintry but beautiful landscape where geese ‘carve a soundless line’, where ‘simple shapes’ and ‘muffled earth’ set a scene of waiting and anticipation, before ‘the line sets out alone’. There is both apprehension and wonder in this – to navigate a path (through life?) with ‘no compass   no margin’ and yet not to hesitate, but to simply wait for the moment. For me, this approximates to the journey facing Mary, and indeed Christ after her – they face up to the unknown because they have no choice – they have faith and they accept.

‘Prayer’ by Carol Ann Duffy is a favourite of mine, and I knew that it would be familiar to at least some of the audience. For me it examines self-doubt, sadness, possibly even grief, in a way that uplifts by showing us the hope and love present when we open our ears to the quotidian sounds around us. Life goes on, children practise their piano scales, we cope with bad days – all this and more expressed in a sonnet which concludes with an extract from the Shipping Forecast, an enduring and recognisable ritual not unlike daily prayers and ‘Latin chants’. And as with ‘line’, there are musical references in ‘Prayer’ which felt appropriate for this context.

When it came to the nativity, I wanted a poem to express all the wonder, hope, and love felt by a parent at the birth of a child. ‘William’ by Jack Underwood (from his collection Happiness) is a creative, exuberant and highly original love poem to a new baby, from his father. Starting from the point of what he is familiar with, the speaker then finds himself at a loss when faced with ‘your fine melon head, your innocent daring-to-be’ – completely ‘uncooked’ at the newness and intensity of his feelings – ‘I can feel my socks being on’ – pure joy and a lot of fun.

The final poem I chose was the wonderful song-like ‘A short story of falling’ by Alice Oswald from her collection Falling Awake. It takes the audience back to the theme of birth, lifecycles, regeneration and the wonder of nature. The title also plays on the idea of the Biblical ‘fall’ with which we began. There is so much beauty in this poem – the summer shower that ‘steals the light and hides it in a flower’ and the narrator wanting to know how to ‘balance/ the weight of hope against the light of patience’. Like a song, we reach the end and feel we are ready to being again – ‘the story of the falling rain / that rises to the light and falls again’.

I can’t say yet whether all this will work or not, as the concert is this evening in Lewes! The reader will be a member of the choir who’s also an actor – in rehearsal he delivered the poems with sensitivity and clarity. I haven’t asked for the poems to be printed in the programme as I didn’t want to risk breaching any copyright, so it’s all in the reading. All the poems are credited though, and I hope it may encourage some people to seek out the books in which they appear. Not everyone will be that interested, but at least it gets contemporary writing in front of a general audience.

So no ‘jolly old Saint Nick’ or Tiny Tim or the ghost of Christmas past for the audience tonight, but more challenging fare! Let’s do it!

Charlotte Gann book launch

It’s always a joy to hear poet friend Charlotte giving a reading. There’s a weight to her voice, a rootedness … it’s hard to explain what I mean. There’s no act, no funny stuff. She presents her poems simply, and they just seem to appear in the room – completely in the proper place – like great trees that have been growing for hundreds of years.

Charlotte Gann

Last night was the first launch of Noir, Charlotte’s first full-length collection, published by HappenStance, and it was in her home town of Lewes. It was my home too, for fourteen years (just passing through!), and it’s still slightly weird to go back to, especially on (almost) the eve of Bonfire, its biggest day of the year. I walked down the High Street and Sarah Barnsley and I almost didn’t recognise each other in the dark as we waited to cross the road. Spookily appropriate for the book’s title. But everything about the event was the opposite of noir – a wonderful gathering of friends, family and supporters, a happy audience.

audience at Charlotte's reading

I loved hearing Charlotte’s ‘trailer’ for the book – a selection of poems from the different sections, ending with ‘Molecular Biologist’, a poem from Charlotte’s 2011 pamphlet The Long Woman, and written for her brother (who was there last night). One of the poems is written in the shape/layout of a letter, which Charlotte helpfully explained…

Charlotte Gann reading

My phone takes terrible photos in the dark, so many thanks to Julia O’Brien, Peter Kenny and Jemma Borg for the pics.

Noir is one of those books you have to keep reading once you start…I’m not very good at reviewing friends’ work but please do read Peter Kenny’s review of Noir to get a feel for this intriguing collection. I’m sure we’ll be hearing more about it.

 

Readings, launches & seeds of a new project or two

We’ve been in Eastbourne a month. It probably sounds daft but I’ve been struck at how mild it seems to be here compared to Lewes or Brighton. The latter in particular. And yet they’re only a few miles away. Maybe we don’t get those biting Brighton winds here?

But today I’ve spent all day at the computer.  I have a pretty good 180 degree view of the weather from where I’m sitting and let me tell you there was no reason to go out today.

If you read my post last week you’ll know I was out and about last week though – lots of lovely readings, poetry gatherings and a very low-key talk to the ladies of the SWWJ about blogging, twitter and the like. It’s always a pleasure to read alongside wonderful poets and last week was no exception – on Friday it was an intimate affair at the Albion Beatnik in Oxford, where Martin Malone was celebrating the launch of his new collection Cur (more on that in a post very soon). My fellow readers in the warm-up act were Telltale stable-mate Siegfried Baber, Roy Marshall, Josephine Corcoran and Hilda Sheehan. I really enjoyed the evening and was sad to rush off, but after a 5 hour drive to get there I wanted to get to my bed by a reasonable hour. In fact the journey back was a mere 2 hours 40 mins which I was pleased about, although I think I may have been papped by a speed camera on the A22 – ugh. I was personally pleased with my reading as it was all from memory (three poems, all relatively short.) I’m determined to read more and more from memory, it’s such a different experience (and rescues the reading-glasses scenario.)

Last night I was at a different kind of reading, to celebrate the launch of True Tales from the Old Hill, a new anthology of life-writing essays by people living in and around Lewes, published by The Frogmore Press and the Centre for Life History and Writing Research at the University Sussex. It’s a fascinating project, not one I thought I could contribute to, but I’m glad I did. I suppose if you call it ‘creative non-fiction’ it sounds different from ‘memoir’. We heard some brilliant readings, and I especially loved the family ‘vignettes’ from poet friend Charlotte Gann, so much so that I had to read them out to my husband as soon as I got home. Classy stuff.

On Monday it was the second session of the poetry course I’m on at New Writing South, led by John McCullough. I’ve got a lot of time for John. He’s a fine poet and an enthusiastic and sensitive tutor. The group is a bit large for my liking but no doubt it will settle down. There are some talented poets in the group and I’m looking forward to what’s to come. I’ve already started 3 new poems in the last fortnight so that’s got to be a good sign.

 

memorial bench, eastbourne

Meanwhile I have ideas for two Eastbourne writing projects, at least one of which I’m hoping to get off the ground very soon. The photo is a clue. Both projects need a lot of research, but that in itself will be fun. I’ll keep you posted.

 

Reading from memory

Housman quote

Memorising poems has been much in the news lately. Classrooms recitals for children seem to be making a comeback. Julianne Moore’s character in ‘Still Alice’ is seen reciting Elizabeth Bishop’s ‘One Art’. For the last National Poetry Day theme of ‘Remembering’, Tony Mitton in the Guardian offered his top ten poems for children to learn from memory.

I was always impressed at how many lines of poetry my mother could still remember and recite, nearly 80 years after she learnt them in school. She told me her sister Ivy was better at it – ‘good at spouting’ was her term for it. I liked telling her when I was going to be ‘spouting’ at a poetry reading – although in honesty, I rarely spout, because I’ve never gone to the trouble of learning my own poems from memory, and I although I did learn poems for English exams at school (because we had to quote them) I don’t think I ever recited them, except to myself.

Ted Hughes’s ‘Hawk Roosting’ was one I learned back to front and upside down. In his introduction to By Heart – 101 Poems to Remember (Faber 1997), Hughes gives us an essay on the pleasure of memorising by using imagery and the visceral senses – age-old techniques which he claims were largely eradicated during the Protestantisation of England as being somehow ‘pagan’ or ‘catholic’, to be replaced by ‘rote learning’. I wonder if the loathing of rote learning is one of the factors behind the negative attitude of many people to poetry.

So what about today’s poets? Why are we not performing more of our work from memory? Of course I’m talking about ‘page’ poets here – whatever you think of the distinction, it exists. Perhaps the word ‘performing’ is a clue. Not all poets are performers, or wish to be. And reading without the prop of a book or a sheet of paper does mean answering some scary questions – what do I do with my hands? Where do I look? and not least of all What will happen if I forget the words?

Yesterday evening I had the pleasure of hosting Telltale Poets & Friends here in Lewes, in the warm glow of the (packed) upstairs room of the Lewes Arms, and the first reader was our own Peter Kenny. I’ve heard Peter read quite a few times now, and he has a natural presence and a voice that never fails to pull you in. Last night he gave an outing to a poem I’d not heard before, which he explained had been written thirty years ago or so. It was long, and he recited it from memory. Not just that, but it was a performance – not in the sense that it seemed choreographed or rehearsed, but more that it involved his whole body – in the reciting, in the meaning of the words, in the remembering. It felt powerful, and it seemed to draw in the audience, sharp as a laser. I’ve experienced this before – Cristina Navazo-Eguía Newton is mesmerising when she famously performs her work from memory.

So I’m now inspired to memorise one or two of my own (all pretty short) poems. I’ve a number of readings coming up, the first being Poetry in the House in London next week, at which I’m the first reader. Dare I set myself the goal of performing a poem from memory? Or perhaps start with a more modest goal  – having the book in hand in case I get into trouble, but not looking at it? Would that work? I’m not sure. I know when it comes to singing, I’m more able to sing confidently from memory if I don’t have the music available to fall back on.

I’m interested to know other people’s experiences of reciting or performing free verse from memory. Is it in your repertoire? Something you would like to do more, or no inclination? Do you enjoy or prefer it when poets read from memory?

Finding new homes

jeremy Page reading at Needlewriters
Jeremy Page reading at Needlewriters

I’m currently in the middle of what the meedja likes to tell us is one of life’s most stressful times – moving house. I’ve managed to weather the others (divorce, bereavement, being fired, Liverpool failing to win their 10th championship in 1978 etc) so it shouldn’t be that bad. Also, I am lucky enough to have a husband to share the experience with. The idea of relocating to another town, albeit in the same county, is exciting, and is making me think a lot about what ‘home’ means, and the process of finding and building a new home after being thirteen years in the same place (easily the longest I’ve lived anywhere).

One of the things I know I will miss is Lewes’s literary scene – I’ve been warned it isn’t quite the same where we’re going, but I guess the answer is to do something about that! Last night it was the quarterly Needlewriters meeting, with poets Jeremy Page and Judith Cair reading, and it reminded me what a privilege it is to live a couple of minutes away. A poet friend was telling about how much she enjoys workshops with Mimi Khalvati, who comes regularly to Lewes, and how wonderful it was to have a poet of her standing coming here, to us. Mark Hewitt’s Lewes Live Lit stages all kinds of workshops and events in the town. And then of course there’s Telltale Press, a Lewes-based project if ever there was one… I can’t take it with me!

It’s still early days and anything could happen, but we’ve found our ideal home and are hoping it will actually be our home within a few months.

And speaking of homes … (crass segue alert) … despite another rejection from Lighthouse this week (boo!), homes have been found for 2 new poems at Brittle Star who are taking one for issue 36 and another for issue 37. And co-editor Martin Parker has invited me to read at the launch of 36 in London in May. Big hurrahs all round!

More words of advice from Mimi Khalvati

Having recently been to the last of Mimi Khalvati’s Lewes for workshops for a while, I realised I hadn’t been blogging about them as I used to. It was also time to clean out my ‘workshop notes’ folder, so here are a few more things I’ve jotted down from time to time – I hope you find them interesting. Even though I can’t recall or reveal the poems that prompted them, they’re all points that resonate with me.

On truth – you can’t / shouldn’t always be true to the real or original experience. It doesn’t matter if ‘that’s not the way it actually happened.’ Similarly, if you’re creating a ‘found’ poem, your selecting and framing of the material is part of the work, part of making it good.

On considering the whole at the same time as the specifics of a piece – you may have good reasons for every line break or stanza break, but you need to consider the whole poem at the same time, because what’s good for one line break may not work in the wider context of the whole poem. Turn the sheet of paper around and look at  it from behind to really ‘see’ the shape – is that really what the poem wants to be?

On music versus logic – Sometimes you need to keep something in for the music, even if it’s not logical or whatever. If an element of a poem is part of the musical composition then perhaps it has earned its place.

On deciding what the poem wants to be – what you set out to write may not be what gets written. Perhaps it’s a song, or a ballad. What does it remind you of – what are its ancestors? Is it two different things, and if so, which direction will you go with?

On understanding what stage your poem is at – this has nothing to do with how long you’ve worked on it – a poem can be finished without any re-writing, it can also be worked on for years and still be at the early draft stages. You may think each redraft should take you closer to a finished poem, but it’s not necessarily the case. (Sadly!)

It was Mimi’s birthday last week, so there was cake …

Mimi Khalvati Lewes workshop may 2014

A very Lewes launch: Janet Sutherland & Jeremy Page

Janet Sutherland and Jeremy Page
Janet Sutherland and Jeremy Page launching their new books in Lewes.

Somehow I managed to arrive too late for a seat at the Elephant & Castle yesterday evening (despite having a commute of approximately 30 seconds) but really enjoyed the atmosphere in the packed function room. Poets galore were joined by friends and neighbours for the joint launch of Bone Monkey by Janet Sutherland published by Shearsman and Closing Time by Jeremy Page, published by Pindrop Press.

Bone Monkey and Closing Time

The poets were introduced briefly by Maria Jastrzębska (Janet) and Jo Hemmant (Jeremy). I’m fortunate enough to be in a workshopping group with both Maria and Janet and am always so grateful both for their feedback on my own work but also for the opportunity to hear and see what they’re working on. Consequently, a few of the poems in Bone Monkey are familiar to me – I also heard Janet read from the book at the Needlewriters earlier in April, and I almost always appreciate a poem more for having heard it read more than once. Jeremy is the publisher of the Frogmore Press / Frogmore Papers, going now for 31 years, and he’s been kind enough to publish a couple of my poems in the magazine and the anthology Poems from the Old Hill.  I’ve met Jo, who runs Pindrop Press, a few times, including when we read together at Tunbridge Wells library, an event organised by Abegail Morley, who was also there last night.

Candles, canapes, poetry and friends … great stuff. But alas, I had to make my apologies and leave before the end. I think I’m so fried with work at the moment. I haven’t had a chance yet to even open Closing Time, but I’m hoping to do so over the weekend when I may get some breathing/poetry space.

Quick Friday update – events, submissions etc

It’s been a thin year so far as regards writing, getting stuff out and accepted by magazines. I do have one excuse, which is that work has taken up a lot more of my time than usual these last 6 months. Not that I’m complaining, as my work and poetry interests continue to converge, slowly but surely. I now have ambitious plans for bringing all my activities under one virtual roof, combining blogs/websites/social outposts etc to create a united front. About time! Give me until the end of the year, though.

A quick what’s-been and will-be happening:

Last night I was at the Needlemakers in Lewes for the launch of Judith Kazantzis‘s new collection Sister Invention. It was a nice intimate affair with free-flowing prosecco. It’s a mighty book – hundreds of poems with (at first glance) a vast geographical and thematic span. I’m looking forward to delving into it.

Tomorrow – the New Writing South Publishing Industry Day at Brighton Library. I’m giving a short talk about ‘building a successful online writer presence’, after which we’re headed off to step-daughter’s 30th birthday party.

Next week, Janet Sutherland and Jeremy Page are holding a joint launch event for their respective new collections, Bone Monkey and Closing Time, and again just a few moments from my front door. How lucky am I?

I’ve had a few days off from writing about blogging, but it all kicks off again next week: book number two to begin, plus hundreds of image permissions to obtain… wish me luck.

June is looking interesting in terms of poetry events – I’ve been invited to read at the Lamb Festival in north London on June 2nd, then also that week we have a lovely event planned in memory of Jo Grigg, friend, poet and Brighton Stanza rep who died so suddenly year. Later in the month, Brighton Stanza are joining Palmers Green for a Stanza Bonanza at the Poetry Cafe. Always great fun, the only nail-biting bit being whether those of us living in the sticks manage to make the last train home.

Mimi Khalvati on editing and what to bin

Notes from a poetry workshop

On Saturday I dropped back in on one of the regular workshops with Mimi Khalvati run by the excellent Lewes Live Lit here in my home town. I was lucky enough to be rewarded with a place in one of these highly popular groups about 18 months ago, and although I’ve been on a break from them, when the opportunity arose to re-join I took it.

As usual I took notes, and while many things discussed were specific to the poems we workshopped, there were a couple of strong ‘aha’ moments for me, which I thought I’d share with you here.

First of all, on the subject of a poem that isn’t working but that has some ‘good bits’…

Mimi described how she had recently been working on a poem at which she had made five or six attempts – not edits, but actual start-again different approaches. In the end, all she kept was one line. And the rest? Kept for a rainy poetry day when she might use them in another poem? Still lingering in her notebook under ‘good metaphors or phrases I could use somewhere’? No – it all went in the bin.

Her point was that when something isn’t quite working, poets are often quick to say “maybe I can put that great line into another poem” when in fact it’s worth asking the question “maybe I can put it all in the bin.” Not that it’s always the answer, but that we should be more prepared to let go. I know I’m guilty of this, and it may be the reason why I’ve one or two poems that have been rejected seven or more times, despite several re-writes. I probably need to go at them from a completely different angle and not be so wedded to certain lines.

Secondly, on the subject of editing …

‘”Nobody writes magical stuff straight off,” (well, most of us don’t!) “the magic usually comes in the editing.” What often happens, said Mimi, is that we create some magical moments in amongst some other writing that might be less than magical. The key is to recognise this and cut out the less interesting stuff. Only it’s difficult, because we think it’s all crucial, all part of how we got to the magical moment in the first place. But the reader may not need to see your ‘workings out’. Don’t worry about being clear or logical.

In other words, editing doesn’t just mean things like cutting out unnecessary adjectives or replacing uninteresting verbs, but really thinking also about the impact on the reader, where the real interest, tension and magic lie, and making sure other parts of the poem aren’t detracting from this. This really made sense to me. I’ve already looked at two of my current poems with this mindset and made some (hopefully good) changes.

Submissions, projects, ‘poetry corner’

nobody puts poetry in a corner

Sorry for the silence lately, I’ve been under the weather and only today feeling a tad more human. Then there’s been all the Christmas stuff, you know what it’s like. Anyway, here’s a quick update for now:

No news yet from Ambit or Poetry Review, but I did make a submission to The London Magazine, a bit by mistake – someone I met in Wales told me about about a London-based mag that’s a great one to submit to, and for some reason I thought it was The London Magazine, but actually I think it was South Bank Poetry. But I couldn’t find a website for SBP, and before I knew it I was submitting to TLM, although I’ve never actually read it and to be honest it looks like quite a serious cultural mag. I’m not keen on making ‘drive-by’ submissions, but I had a couple of London-themed poems burning in a hole in my computer so I thought what the hell.

The Magma Poetry comp deadline is today, and although I wasn’t intending to enter, once more in an idle moment and after a glass of wine and in a feverish fug I only went and sent something. When will I ever learn?

As a distraction from the Waiting Game, I’ve also been thinking about poetry projects for 2014. A local group called the Needlewriters has recently recruited me to their committee to help with their quarterly events, and I’m getting my head around where I can add value. Then there’s the Brighton Stanza, which has grown in popularity but I now need to work with my ‘loose committee’ on how to preserve the serious workshopping element while still catering for those who just want to come along and share their poems.

I’ve also offered to compile a regular ‘poetry corner’ piece (working title!) for our community newspaper the Lewes News. No other publication round here publicises local poetry events, or promotes the work of the many wonderful poets in Lewes. So my plan is to redress the balance! We’ll see if that comes off: wish me luck.