Tag: poetry society

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On performing ekphrastic poems, Poetry Book Fair etc

poetry book fair 2020

I’m not sure I’ve ever really celebrated World Poetry Day, which was apparently adopted by UNESCO in 1999 with the aim of “supporting linguistic diversity through poetic expression and increasing the opportunity for endangered languages to be heard.” It’s held on March 21st each year, and this year in Eastbourne the indefatigable ‘Mister John’ who hosts a monthly poetry open mic is staging a special event on the theme of ekphrasis. The Hastings Stanza will well represented, and I’m taking along poems inspired by contemporary artworks by Anish Kapoor and Jann Haworth.

On ‘Performing’ ekphrastic poems

Reading poems based on artworks is tricky. If they’re famous paintings then at least some of the audience might be familiar with them. If not, do you spend five minutes explaining what it’s a picture of before reading the poem? What if the artwork is a piece of performance art? I’ve written something inspired by The House with the Ocean View by Marina Abramovic, but decided against reading it this week because explaining the artwork is too time consuming. Even with static art, ideally we would have a projector and be able to show it while reading the poem. But what if that’s not possible? I’ve opted for putting a copy of the art next to the poem, printing it out and taking a few ‘pass around’ copies with me. We’ll see how it goes.

The return of the Poetry Book Fair

Although it bears no resemblance to the London Book Fair, London’s Poetry Book Fair (also known as Free Verse) used to be a very jolly and uplifting event, independently organised, until the pandemic years. The great news is that it’s back, to be held on Saturday 20th April. The bad news for me is that I can’t make it. Organised now by The Poetry Society, the fair consists of around 80 small-to-micro poetry publishers crammed into a hall displaying their wares. A great opportunity for editors to meet their readers and potential readers, for poets to meet editors (or check then out incognito!) and sample their books, for tiny indies to rub along with the Fabers of the poetry world. It’s also a good old-fashioned networking event, even if poets don’t tend to use that phrase. Meet poets you’ve always admired and hear them read! Quiz editors about what they’re looking for and make sure they remember your name! Or just run into poet mates you haven’t seen in ages.

I’ve been to three of the Fairs in the past and helped out on a publisher table for a couple of them, and it’s always a fine occasion. This year I happen to be coming back from Spain that very day. I could probably trail my luggage with me straight up to London from Gatwick but it’s unlikely I’ll be there before 4pm, when traditionally things are winding down. Oh well, next year I hope. Do visit this year if you can.

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National Poetry Day (week of)

Prole 33 and Frogmore Papers 100

So Thursday is National Poetry Day, which I shall be celebrating with my Hastings Stanza group, doing what poets do… agonising over line-breaks, commas and what have you.

Before that though, on Wednesday, I’ll be at the Fisherman’s Club for the prize readings of a local competition I was a judge for, on the theme of ‘Eastbourne and the Environment’. A theme that was interpreted in some interesting ways! Hastings Stanza member Jackie Hutchinson is among the winners, so I’m looking forward to hearing her winning poem.

Last week I was in Lewes for the launch of The Frogmore Papers‘ 100th issue, an amazing feat, and under the editorship of Jeremy Page the whole time. We heard readings from some of the contributors and from co-founder Andre Evans on how it all began in a cafe in Folkestone. It’s a lovely story, and having heard it a few times it’s now taken on almost mythic status, up there with Aeneas crossing the Mediterranean to found the city of Rome, or Phil Knight making rubber outsoles on his mum’s waffle machine for the first Nike trainers. Anyway, having read the edition from cover to cover I can confirm it’s a fine book – and let’s face it, some of our ‘little magazines’ coming in at 90 pages or more deserve to be called books.  On that subject, I can also recommend Prole 33 which recently arrived, weighing in at 140 pages (although about half of it is short stories.)

The Lewes event was also the launch of Clare Best‘s new collection, End of Season (Fine di Stagione), published by the Frogmore Press, in which the poems are presented in both English and Italian. It was lovely to hear both Clare and Jeremy reading the poems in both languages – very evocative. I’m enjoying the book especially as it is about a beautiful place on Lake Maggiore called Cannero where Nick and I stayed for a week back in 2019 (on Clare’s recommendation).

Meanwhile, if you’re a member of the Poetry Society you may notice a piece I’ve written for Poetry News on magazines’ submissions windows, which should be hitting your doormat this week.

Nothing much to report on the new writing front, although I have just sent out another tranche of poems that have been languishing in the ‘am I ever going to go back to working on these or shall I just send them out’ pile. So that’s 22 poems out to magazines at the moment, and one pamphlet submission.

Happy National Poetry Day Week!

launch of Frogmore Papers 100
At the launch of Frogmore Papers 100 and ‘End of the Season’: Andre Evans, Neil Gower, Jeremy Page, Clare Best, Alexandra Loske and Peter Stewart
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Orford Ness

Orford Ness

Some years ago now I visited Orford Ness Nature Reserve, a strange and mysterious place on the coast of Suffolk. Strange in the same way as any place with ‘Ness’ in the name, mysterious because of its history as an atomic test site and before that as a place of experimentation in radar and ballistics. Even though wildlife has reclaimed this marginal sweep of land, the area is dotted with derelict structures and unexplained features some of which are still off-limits to the visiting public.

A few months later my poem ‘Searching for the Police Tower, Orford Ness’ won the Poetry Society Stanza Competition 2014, fuelling my (long-gone) belief that I was destined to be the Next Best Thing in poetry. I had no idea at that point that a zillion poets had already ‘discovered’ Orford Ness. Those were heady days – that period many poets go through, in which you imagine yourself being snapped up by Faber and consequently winning the Forward Prize. Although I now see the folly of it, I would never laugh at anyone for having such a dream. Rejoice in each and every early or small success! Live for that moment, as it may never return!

Anyway, my point is that even your oldest, earliest successes can have a longer shelf life than you think  A few weeks ago I got an email from someone at the National Trust who had been looking for poems about Orford Ness to display in the Visitor Centre there next year, as part of some kind of festival. She’d discovered my poem on the Poetry Society website and would I mind if mine was one of the poems to be displayed. Why would I say no? It’s so nice (and unusual) to get such a request. Will anyone waiting for their ferry ride over to the Ness in 2023 bother to read my wee poem, up on the wall with plenty of others? And will it enhance the enjoyment of their visit? Will they remember (or even read) my name? Who knows. But there’s no harm in imagining it.

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Getting all Elizabethan, new writing and emerging from the gloom

I’m not sure what it’s taken but I’ve started writing again. Not a great outpouring, but something. Maybe it’s been the eclectic reading I’ve been doing.

As well as Mary Jean Chan’s Flèche (Faber, 2019), I’ve read my way through Jean Sprackland’s Green Noise (Cape, 2018), and am enjoying dipping in and out of Darling (Bloodaxe, 2007), Jackie Kay’s selected. I’ve also been intrigued by Adam Nicolson’s exploration of Wilton and the background to Sir Philip Sidney’s ‘Arcadia’, which then got me onto The Elizabethans by A N Wilson which I’d had on the bookshelf for a while. Much to enjoy here, but the author has some angles (shall we say) and turns of phrase that rankled with me. Although I’m on the last chapter I don’t think I’ll finish it as there are just too many references to how Elizabeth had become ‘old and yellow-toothed’ and so forth. A queen who had achieved so much during her reign, being denigrated for the sin of growing old and thereby losing her looks doesn’t sit well with me. Funny, that!

I’m getting very interested in the ‘Sidney circle’ and the whole pre-Shakespeare Renaissance literary scene. In particular I’m starting to dig out more about Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke, by all accounts a fine writer, but who tends to be described in terms of a) her more famous brother and b) her generous literary patronage.

Mary Herbert google search

Last week I ‘attended’ (should this really still be in inverted commas?) a Poetry Society evening of readings on Zoom, celebrating the Peggy Poole Award and National Poetry Competition. There were an impressive 130 or so attendees, many of us on video – for me, this made it more enjoyable than when we’re all hidden. Some great readings from (amongst others) Michael Symons Roberts and Louisa Adjoa Parker, and an atmospheric filmpoem of Mark Pajak’s ‘Dismantling the largest oil tanker in the world’:

Meanwhile the collaborative project is taking shape. It’s a joy to be working with Peter Kenny on this, poetry pal and Telltale co-founder. This time we’re chewing over ideas on WhatsApp rather than in a coffee shop. I think Telltale is about to rise again, but what shape or form will it take? To be revealed soon!!

Angst/

National Poetry Competition awards night

NPC winners 2017

This is where I open with a statement about the star-studded atmosphere of the Savile Club ballroom last night, where the UK’s biggest poetry single-poem competition reached its climax…but this is my blog after all, so I know you’re expecting something a bit more – um – prosaic? Something about my exchanging some banter with Patience Agbabi while delving into my bag on the cloakroom floor, or trying not to look like an imposter as I anxiously scan the room for canapés. Well, yes, that did happen. And I was nervous walking in. But it was a joy to be there with poet friend Lynne, who shares my trepidation for these things but who always appears to be an oasis of calm and wisdom.

First up was the Ted Hughes Award, a newish prized instigated by Carol Ann Duffy, who generously funds it from her annual stipend for being Poet Laureate. Is she just the most impressive Poet Laureate ever? Like a brilliant Head Girl. Detention for anyone who doesn’t love her! The award “celebrates new work that may fall beyond the conventional realms of poetry, embracing mediums such as music, dance and theatre.” Winner this year was Holly McNish, and I was happy to see Harry Man also on the shortlist, a very talented and modest person who I had the pleasure of encountering on a Jack Underwood course a few years ago.

After a break, in which more schmoozing took place and the wine flowed, and a few people starting wilting for lack of canapés (I told Lynne she should have had the Scotch Egg with Apple Chutney that I’d had in the Running Horse earlier – small but perfectly formed), the big moment arrived. As the seven commended poets in the NPC were named, we realised we were standing in the same area of the room as the prize winners, which amused me no end. Although someone earlier in the evening did say to me “Have you won?” in such a matter-of-fact way I almost said “yes” just to see the reaction.

NPC judges
Jack Underwood and Moniza Alvi, two of the National Poetry Competition judges

I admit I was struggling to concentrate on the third and second placed poems as they were read, but how often does one reading of a poem have an impact? And it was hot and there was a lot of standing. But I genuinely enjoyed hearing Stephen Sexton read his winning poem ‘The Curfew’, and reading it on the way home. Congratulations that man, what a huge pile to rise to the top of.

Stephen Sexton reads his winning poem

The whole evening was great fun, and there was a warm atmosphere in the room. I felt able to say hello to many people, unfazed even by the occasional polite but puzzled ‘I can’t quite place who you are’ look. (Although I never assume anyone remembers my name so I always re-introduce myself – good manners I think!) At one point I said to Lynne “Oh, [Poet Name] just said hello to me, that’s good isn’t it?” to which she replied, unimpressed, “Who’s he?” which rather put my stupid name-dropping antics in their place. I enjoyed meeting new people, including Richard Stillman who introduced himself as a Twitter friend, which is always nice, and who proved very useful for finding people in the room as he stood head and shoulders above everyone.

Big thanks to the Poetry Society for all of this. And commiserations to all of us who entered and yet again got nowhere – hey, there’s always next year.

 

Angst/

News round-up: the good, the bad & the ugly

hazel at the beach

Facebook blackout – the verdict

It’s now been two months since I stopped checking in with Facebook and I’m enjoying the freedom it’s given me. I’ve been writing, little by little, not an avalanche of new stuff, but a lot of reworking of old material. I’ve also found new possible projects popping into my head, which may or may not happen but I won’t beat myself up if they don’t.

Being Facebook-free did mean I missed the news of two great-nieces being born on the same day, but good old email did bring me a missive after a couple of days. My siblings’ children are procreating so fast I’m finding it hard to keep track of all the new rellies! Above is a photo of my granddaughter Hazel, enjoying herself on the beach a couple of weeks ago 🙂 Nothing to do with poetry but a nice photo I think! She didn’t write her name herself, but rest assured I shall be coaching her in all things poetry asap.

Good things, and a bit of navel-gazing

I’ve had another poem nominated for the Forward Prize this year, the one that came second in the Stanza comp. Thank you to Paul McGrane of the Poetry Society for putting it forward (sic).

The launch event for Eyewear’s ‘Best British & Irish Poets 2017’ is next month and so if I can get myself to London on a Sunday I’ll have an opportunity to read, which will be fun, and I’m very interested to meet some of the other contributors.

The lovely Kay Syrad has taken one of my poems for Envoi, a magazine I’ve just subscribed to again as it’s come round on my magazine subs rolling schedule. Really enjoying the current issue especially work by Abegail Morley and Neil Elder. The poem in question is another oldie that finally came good – the first draft was written in December 2012 and this was the 15th draft. The moral of the story: if you think the premise of a poem is good, keep working on it and hopefully the execution will get there in the end!

New Writing South have always been very supportive of my work and it’s thanks to them that I’ve been able to have some mentoring from a lovely experienced poet, to help me with a pamphlet. The editing, culling, reassessing and reordering of the poems was an inspirational process for me and the result feels strong. Whether or not I can persuade a publisher of that remains to be seen. Anyway, I’m now seeing certain poems in a very different light, I’ve murdered a few darlings, if you like, and brought a few more back from the dead.

Wonderful night at Pighog in Brighton last week, at a new venue that’s really promising. The theme was ‘erotic poetry’ but the red lighting saved anyone’s blushes – although it made it hard to see who was in the room, an essential part of the night! The readers were Catherine Smith and John McCullough, both of whom are always such good value. Funny, moving and absorbing readings. John’s The Frost Fairs (Salt) is one of my all-time favourite collections, and his newest book Spacecraft (Penned in the Margins) is another real gem.

And here’s a funny thing: when I was first on a roll with getting poems in magazines, about four or five years ago, I think I mistook my lack of humility for confidence, whereas now I feel it’s the opposite – being humbled (in the sense of a) not quite achieving what I expected/demanded of myself, b) the more fine poetry I read the more I see realistically where I stand) has somehow helped me become more accepting of my own limitations, and thereby more confident about what I can do.

Less good things (but not really ugly)

Oh woe is me for yet more rejections – or as I like to file them, ‘Declined’ submissions – three poems sent back from The High Window, and not for the first time – so perhaps my work is a poor fit there. Actually no other rejections to report during February, although since the winners in the National have all been notified, clearly I didn’t do anything there.  Boo! Quite a few things are still out though, so who knows 🙂

That competition discussion

I was fascinated by the comments after my last blog post, it made me appreciate the range of viewpoints there are on the subject – much food for thought. Thanks so much for the lively discussion; I’m very lucky to have such interesting and engaged people reading this blog.

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Quick update on things

Cuckmere Haven by Eric Ravilious, Towner Gallery Eastbourne

It’s been a tricky month so far for finding the time and inclination to blog, so I thought I’d write a quick update. I have a lovely guest post waiting in the wings, which I’m planning to post up later in the week.

So … the last three weeks have been strange to say the least, as I’ve been travelling over to Brighton each weekday for radiotherapy. It’s an hour or more each way on the bus, but it has to be one of the most scenic bus routes in the country: climbing up onto the South Downs with views of the sea on three sides, skirting Friston Forest and down into Cuckmere Haven with its gorgeous meandering river. It’s less pretty after that but views of the sea are never far away. I’ve read three novels and had fun observing my travelling companions and taking in all the quirks of bus life. It’s almost taken my mind off the reality of having to go every day to lie naked from the waist up in a freezing room while strangers stare and prod and haul me around. Almost. BUT of course I’m grateful, for the NHS, for the kindness of strangers, that the treatment’s nearly over, that I’m still alive.

Thankfully there’s been some poetry good news during this time – having a poem placed joint second in the Poetry Society Stanza competition, having a poem accepted for Eyewear’s anthology Best New British and Irish Poets 2017, helping to launch Jess Mookherjee’s wonderful debut pamphlet The Swell, being invited by Anne-Marie Fyfe to read my poem from the Live Canon 154 anthology at the Troubadour in November.

But just to balance that out, I’ve had one of my fastest ever rejections, from The London Magazine (admittedly it was a bit of a long shot), and I’m also still struggling with a pamphlet that’s been brewing for two years. Just when I thought I was getting close to a publishable standard I had some excoriating feedback and it’s back to the drawing board. I’ve now set myself a target of six weeks to get it into shape. I also had to miss the awesomeness that is the Poetry Swindon Festival which I’d been looking forward to for months.

Plenty of good stuff this week however. I’m going up to Coffee House Poetry at the Troubadour tomorrow with my great friend Lucy, a stalwart of poetry readings and fellow member of the ‘cancer survivors’ club, plus Telltale Poets and Friends at the Lewes Arms on Wednesday night, the organisation of which, for once, is not my responsibility, so I’m going to sit back and enjoy!

I’m hoping that I can make up for the lost time of the past 3 weeks and get back on track with poetry, work and projects around the flat. However, I’ve finally given up the idea of making curtains for a big bay window. Bring in the experts!

Image: Cuckmere Haven by Eric Ravilious, Towner Gallery Eastbourne

 

Angst/

Stanza Reps & Reading at Keats House

Last Wednesday I spent a good part of the day at Keats House in London – in the afternoon meeting with around 35 or so Stanza Reps from around the country and beyond, then the evening AGM where I’d been invited to read. Even as I write that I find it slightly unreal. But it did actually happen – I know this because although part of me thinks there are some things in my life I may have invented or imagined, in this case I do actually have photos.

Keats House

Things started well. As I got to Keats House a jay flew in and landed on a bush right in front of me, which felt like a good omen. I’ve only seen a jay once before and not exactly up close. It seems just too colourful a bird to be British (and yes I know we have parakeets but they’re just arrivistes – ooh! I is that a half-rhyme?)

Paul McGrane of the Poetry Society had co-ordinated the Reps’ meeting and it was a great chance to meet up with reps I already knew such as Antony Mair (Hastings), Robert Harper (Shrewsbury), Margaret Beston (Tonbridge), Sarah Leavesley (Worcestershire) and Tessa Lang (Clapham), and others I’d never met – although many of the names were familiar.

We had short readings from some of the reps, myself included, and these were interjected through the afternoon rather than all in one go, which I thought was a great idea. There was plenty of discussion about meeting etiquette & procedure, now to put together an anthology, events and so forth. If you’re not familiar with Stanzas – they’re volunteer-run groups, under the auspices of the Poetry Society, although anyone can attend, you don’t have to be a Poetry Society member. I’m the rep for Brighton, although I live about 7 miles away in Lewes, but luckily I have a ‘loose committee’ of helpers and others who help with things like booking venues. It’s quite a lot of work, but enjoyable – even with the occasional ‘difficult’ customer.

Stanza Reps at Keats House

Hurrah for the Stanza reps and the Poetry Society! A very useful and enjoyable afternoon. With half an hour or so between the Reps’ meeting and the AGM, Robert Harper and I went off to a local cafe for a coffee and a chat about his magazine Bare Fiction. It’s a beautiful-looking book and Robert’s done an amazing job building up the readership and dealing with the avalanches of submissions he gets, PLUS running a successful competition, all in its first year.

Robin Houghton poet reading at Keats House

By the time my reading ‘slot’ came along I was nervous but itching to get up there. I’m looking a bit stiff in this photo – but at least my eyes are open! It wasn’t a huge audience, but it included incoming and outgoing trustees, all the key staff and many fine poets. Also reading were  Suzanna Fitzpatrick (who won the Hamish Canham Prize this year) and Daljit Nagra who was great fun, and whose poem about Krishna pleasuring hundreds of new brides at the same time (which is OK apparently, because he’s a god) was very funny indeed.

Suzanna Fitzpatrick, Daljit Nagra & Robin Houghton poetry reading

It just felt like a huge privilege to be there and to have those people even give my two wee poems the time of day. And that’s not me fishing for compliments, believe it or not. I know I’m a novice poet and no number of competition successes or published poems changes that fact. I think whether I make it beyond the novice stage is entirely a matter of time and graft. But I’m learning to be patient!

During the day I even got rid of a number of pamphlets – I won’t say ‘sold’ as I left a pile on the freebies table and… well you can guess what happened!

After all the excitement I had a really lovely time unwinding in the pub with poet friend Lynne – a wise and inspirational person if ever there was one.

Then the reality of the train journey home, carriages packed to the brim with Arsenal fans and people munching smelly food – thankfully I had ‘Gravity’ to watch on my phone, which blotted out all distractions.

(Photos courtesy of Sophie at the Poetry Society)

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Submissions, readings, blogging books

Orford Ness

I’ve been busy with work stuff lately so just a quick update.

I had another rejection from The Poetry Review (but a nice note from Maurice Riordan) and I’m still awaiting news on half a dozen magazines I have poems out to. After umming and ahhing about submitting my short pamphlet to Templar Iota Shots I finally decided it was good enough to go.

The thing about submitting to Templar is that it doesn’t have different judges each time (unlike, say, the Poetry Business Pamphlet competition.) This means that if Templar editor Alex McMillen doesn’t like one’s style, he possibly never will. Some of the poems in the collection I submitted are the same or new versions of ones which I included in my submission last year. Let’s hope they’re not memorable or horrible enough to hinder my second go at it.

On the positive side, I can’t complain about my poetry autumn, having a poem appear in the current Rialto, winning the Stanza comp and being invited to read at Keats House – which is on Wednesday 26th November by the way – I’m REALLY hoping there’ll be some familiar, friendly faces in the audience – it’s the Poetry Society AGM and I’ll be reading alongside Daljit Nagra and Suzannah Fitzpatrick. Must start practising.

As regards Telltale Press, Peter and I have been contacting potential Telltale poets and putting our heads together on all sorts of plans …  we’re hosting another reading at the Poetry Cafe in London on January 7th, with special guest Canadian poet Rhona McAdam. Hope you can come to that!

I’ve enjoyed reading the accounts of Aldeburgh Poetry Festival, here’s how Sarah Salway captured it, and of course Anthony Wilson wrote several insightful posts as blogger in residence. Next year I’ll be there with poet friends Clare and Charlotte – the beach house is already booked. So looking forward to that!

Meanwhile it’s all kicking off with ‘Blogging for Writers’ – I’m in the process of organising a Blog Tour which is shaping up nicely, then there’s the blog to update, blog posts to write… I even have a guest blog post booked in for an excellent US site next April, which is when the next blogging book is due to launch, and readings for that are being discussed already, so I could be in for a busy Spring.