Juliet Stevenson reads and Mark Fisher narrates at the Ledbury Poetry Festival the life and poems of Elizabeth Bishop in the Community Hall.
For a full hour the whole room heard the major details of her life and the poems that corresponded
in the time sequence as narrated. We heard tremendous poetry delivered by the voice of Juliet Stevenson that held my attention on every word. It was spoken with great inflection and where needed with the appropriate accent. There appeared to be more than a touch of sadness when they concluded with her death. I shall have to read more of this revered poet and delve more fully into her complete works that is at home. My two favorites will still be 'Insomnia' and 'The Moose'
Sunday, 6 July 2014
Hellens Night
Hellens Night
I am at peace, at home,under
the canopy of trees, encapsulated
by the darkness of this night.
There are no boundaries only the
soft velvet touch of the black,
unreachable.
The comfort of the silence soothes
I am at peace, at home,under
the canopy of trees, encapsulated
by the darkness of this night.
There are no boundaries only the
soft velvet touch of the black,
unreachable.
The comfort of the silence soothes
HELLENS
HELLENS
I am catching up with myself after spending all yesterday evening, and all night until about six o'clock this morning.
I had a great day yesterday culminating with the-poetry-all-nighter with Dave Reeves, the poet in residence for The Black Country Living Museum, Radio Wildfire and whatever else. Twelve people stayed the course, read some of their own work or the chosen work of others.
I read two short poems inspired by 'Poetry Orchard' and the Pippin apples named after Stoke Edith. I also read 'he bares his shaven head' which probably occurred to me to read because a few days ago Rachel had visited Auswitz. Interestingly - for me - some who attended claimed to have not written any poetry, but still participated fully, read and to a man and woman wrote something. This was to their credit and to the ability of the facilitator.
The result, was a damn good 'night' and several pieces of work in progress. I have now so much more to think about.
The evening started at 7pm with a fantastic one man performance of a long poem - it lasted for over an hour - where J.O.Morgan recited 'At Maldon' and only dropped three words. He took from an old document/poem/ode where the beginning and ending had not survived and created the details of the character and the battle between those savage Danes who sailed up a river in Essex, at Maldon and gave the resident Anglo-Saxons a very good hiding. I don't know whether it was just for fun but a quantity of silver had to be given over afterwards. Everything has its cost, but for me it was good value for money.
This recital took place in the 'music room' with its panelled walls, grand piano (of course), and where the entire room oozed history - what a setting!
We then moved into a manorial hall which had been used by The Black Prince in centuries past for a combination recital of poetry by Elizabeth Barrett and musician Robin Ireland on his viola. He had set his music to accompany the reading. It uses the metaphor of detecting bats to explore communication within a family affected by autism. I cannot hope to do any justice here to the content of the writing and the music that dealt with complex feelings and included reference to the autism of her son. A performance fascinatingly called 'The Bat Detector' delivered in another room that spoke of history.
And then the poetry workshop until dawn which included a stroll through the trees with four Tawny Owls screeching in the trees. All of it to give us our own images.
I am catching up with myself after spending all yesterday evening, and all night until about six o'clock this morning.
I had a great day yesterday culminating with the-poetry-all-nighter with Dave Reeves, the poet in residence for The Black Country Living Museum, Radio Wildfire and whatever else. Twelve people stayed the course, read some of their own work or the chosen work of others.
I read two short poems inspired by 'Poetry Orchard' and the Pippin apples named after Stoke Edith. I also read 'he bares his shaven head' which probably occurred to me to read because a few days ago Rachel had visited Auswitz. Interestingly - for me - some who attended claimed to have not written any poetry, but still participated fully, read and to a man and woman wrote something. This was to their credit and to the ability of the facilitator.
The result, was a damn good 'night' and several pieces of work in progress. I have now so much more to think about.
The evening started at 7pm with a fantastic one man performance of a long poem - it lasted for over an hour - where J.O.Morgan recited 'At Maldon' and only dropped three words. He took from an old document/poem/ode where the beginning and ending had not survived and created the details of the character and the battle between those savage Danes who sailed up a river in Essex, at Maldon and gave the resident Anglo-Saxons a very good hiding. I don't know whether it was just for fun but a quantity of silver had to be given over afterwards. Everything has its cost, but for me it was good value for money.
This recital took place in the 'music room' with its panelled walls, grand piano (of course), and where the entire room oozed history - what a setting!
We then moved into a manorial hall which had been used by The Black Prince in centuries past for a combination recital of poetry by Elizabeth Barrett and musician Robin Ireland on his viola. He had set his music to accompany the reading. It uses the metaphor of detecting bats to explore communication within a family affected by autism. I cannot hope to do any justice here to the content of the writing and the music that dealt with complex feelings and included reference to the autism of her son. A performance fascinatingly called 'The Bat Detector' delivered in another room that spoke of history.
And then the poetry workshop until dawn which included a stroll through the trees with four Tawny Owls screeching in the trees. All of it to give us our own images.
Tarrington Village Fete
Tarrington Village Fete held at The Vine, a substantial mellow brick building of significance with gardens that were controlled with elements of precision that take the eye from one detail to another. Formal fountained ponds, neatly encased with straight lines and paved corners, lawns and fine edges, sculptures that fit the formality, but were not born here to the brick walls, oval capped of the pigs' cots. It seemed to all fit to together although the picky would probably say 'incongruous' but I loved it all. It was a pleasure just to be in some one's garden and to wander as I felt like it.
This was England at its best. The sun shone, the clouds held the sky up with the occasional darkish cloud threatening, but producing not a drop of moisture. It was T shirt and shorts weather.
The stalls, the colour of the canopies, the friendliness of the people whether known to me or complete strangers. I was extravagant and indulgent in buying a cream tea at 1 o'clock and a jar of home made marmalade and chutney at £1 per pot. I shall relish the taste of the former with my early morning tea and toast - that is if I survive the night at Hellen's Manor.
All of this with music, games, and of course the ubiquitous bouncy castle, second hand stalls with books, handbags, jewelry etc. All this for the church fund and to retain the fabric of this society.
This was England at its best. The sun shone, the clouds held the sky up with the occasional darkish cloud threatening, but producing not a drop of moisture. It was T shirt and shorts weather.
The stalls, the colour of the canopies, the friendliness of the people whether known to me or complete strangers. I was extravagant and indulgent in buying a cream tea at 1 o'clock and a jar of home made marmalade and chutney at £1 per pot. I shall relish the taste of the former with my early morning tea and toast - that is if I survive the night at Hellen's Manor.
All of this with music, games, and of course the ubiquitous bouncy castle, second hand stalls with books, handbags, jewelry etc. All this for the church fund and to retain the fabric of this society.
Saturday, 5 July 2014
Daily Write Up
I intend to do this on a daily basis and to try and write up as I go, but it does depend upon internet access.
However, please feel free to comment as the views of the readers can be 'such fun' at times!
However, please feel free to comment as the views of the readers can be 'such fun' at times!
Ledbury Poetry Festival
I AM ON MY WAY - Thursday 3rd July
Airports are sometime a very tedious place to be, but they do allow such freedom of movement that we are lucky to be able to achieve and now I am on my way to Ledbury via London Gatwick and Gloucester. It was hot when I left home and then I found that England was having a good summer's day too - the hottest day this year.
NOW I AM THERE - on Friday
This was the first day of the Ledbury Poetry Festival and I had two events booked both being totally different in venue and genre.
The first one was with David Reynolds, Cambridge Professor of International History who introduced his thought that both World War One and Two should be assessed in a broader and more sophisticated approach. We have our own concept of these wars through what we have read, and in my case the poems of Wilfred Owen, some other poets and the way that history has been slanted. This is seen as a narrow approach and having listened to this historian I have to agree with him.
He is promoting his book The Long Shadow: The Great War & The Twentieth Century.
If you cannot afford to buy me his book then I will have to watch BBC2 in September and so can you.
This was sponsored by Ronald Duncan Literary Foundation that supports artistic projects.
Edward and Helen Thomas
My second event still had a war theme and in an amazing setting. I had gone from a Baptist Church in Ledbury (for Reynolds) to an historic church on the Gloucester/Hereford border at St Margaret's Church, Kempley.
It has the oldest known roof timbers in Western Europe and the walls are adorned with murals. They have survived Protector Cromwell by being lime-coated and they must have been incredibly colorful when first done. I do need to go back and re-examine this church and enjoy what has been saved albeit with some fading and loss of detail.
Anyway, that was the venue but why was I there? Well, Juliet Stevenson was premiering Deryn Rees-Jones ambitious poem sequence in connection with Edward Thomas and entitled 'And You, Helen'. She being the wife and widow Edward Thomas after he had gone to war of his own choosing and was killed at Arras in 1917.
A reason for this to be read here was because it is the area where Edward Thomas lived for a while, walked, thought out and talked poetry with Robert Frost. These two writers were (with others including Rupert Brooke) known collectively as the 'Dymock Poets'
It took over fifteen minutes to read and there is not a chance that I can do the content and delivery on this one reading any justice, but now that you know about it you can read it for yourself.
Both events were totally different, both professionally delivered and absorbing. I would not have wanted to have missed either of them. They were superb.
On a general note it is wonderful to be in green and pleasant land with friendly people who are helpful, smiley and chat freely with, it seems, anyone. Well done Ledbury.
Saturday is Tarrington Village Fete - possibly in the rain - followed by two events at Hellen's Manor at Much Marcle, some poetry readings and an-all-nighter writing poetry in the grounds from midnight until breakfast. I had always wanted to spend a period of time doing just that, listening to the sounds of the night away from the distractions that living in this modern world seems to force upon us - iPads! It is going to be a busy 24 hours.
Airports are sometime a very tedious place to be, but they do allow such freedom of movement that we are lucky to be able to achieve and now I am on my way to Ledbury via London Gatwick and Gloucester. It was hot when I left home and then I found that England was having a good summer's day too - the hottest day this year.
NOW I AM THERE - on Friday
This was the first day of the Ledbury Poetry Festival and I had two events booked both being totally different in venue and genre.
The first one was with David Reynolds, Cambridge Professor of International History who introduced his thought that both World War One and Two should be assessed in a broader and more sophisticated approach. We have our own concept of these wars through what we have read, and in my case the poems of Wilfred Owen, some other poets and the way that history has been slanted. This is seen as a narrow approach and having listened to this historian I have to agree with him.
He is promoting his book The Long Shadow: The Great War & The Twentieth Century.
If you cannot afford to buy me his book then I will have to watch BBC2 in September and so can you.
This was sponsored by Ronald Duncan Literary Foundation that supports artistic projects.
Edward and Helen Thomas
My second event still had a war theme and in an amazing setting. I had gone from a Baptist Church in Ledbury (for Reynolds) to an historic church on the Gloucester/Hereford border at St Margaret's Church, Kempley.
It has the oldest known roof timbers in Western Europe and the walls are adorned with murals. They have survived Protector Cromwell by being lime-coated and they must have been incredibly colorful when first done. I do need to go back and re-examine this church and enjoy what has been saved albeit with some fading and loss of detail.
Anyway, that was the venue but why was I there? Well, Juliet Stevenson was premiering Deryn Rees-Jones ambitious poem sequence in connection with Edward Thomas and entitled 'And You, Helen'. She being the wife and widow Edward Thomas after he had gone to war of his own choosing and was killed at Arras in 1917.
A reason for this to be read here was because it is the area where Edward Thomas lived for a while, walked, thought out and talked poetry with Robert Frost. These two writers were (with others including Rupert Brooke) known collectively as the 'Dymock Poets'
It took over fifteen minutes to read and there is not a chance that I can do the content and delivery on this one reading any justice, but now that you know about it you can read it for yourself.
Both events were totally different, both professionally delivered and absorbing. I would not have wanted to have missed either of them. They were superb.
On a general note it is wonderful to be in green and pleasant land with friendly people who are helpful, smiley and chat freely with, it seems, anyone. Well done Ledbury.
Saturday is Tarrington Village Fete - possibly in the rain - followed by two events at Hellen's Manor at Much Marcle, some poetry readings and an-all-nighter writing poetry in the grounds from midnight until breakfast. I had always wanted to spend a period of time doing just that, listening to the sounds of the night away from the distractions that living in this modern world seems to force upon us - iPads! It is going to be a busy 24 hours.
Saturday, 3 May 2014
Stanza Mar Menor
A Poetry Recital on Book Day with The Official Language School of San Javier
and Stanza Mar Menor.
They had courage. The mature students of this school stepped up to the microphone and delivered ten poems, in English, of First World War Poetry. The poems included 'Glory of Women' by Siegfried Sassoon, 'Here Dead We Lie' by A E Housman and the well known, 'The Soldier' by Rupert Brooke. Some of the selection was easier to read than others but congratulations to them all for reading these poems.
The second part included other work by some well known names. However two Stanza Mar Menor members read their own work. Margaret Rowland read her 'Flamenco' to great applause. David Leslie Urion read his down-to-earth humorous poem entitled 'Mr Scruffy Buffadonkalo' with laughter being raised almost by line by line. Congratulations to them both. On a more serious note I read 'Mid-term Break' by Seamus Heaney - a classic poem in my view.
It was a literary evening with everyone being welcoming and friendly. We would like to do it again and maybe we will. I also hope that some of these students will attend the Stanza meetings and thereby incorporating them into our group and us into their lives.
Our next stanza meetings will be on Friday 16th May and Friday 30th May in San Javier.
and Stanza Mar Menor.
They had courage. The mature students of this school stepped up to the microphone and delivered ten poems, in English, of First World War Poetry. The poems included 'Glory of Women' by Siegfried Sassoon, 'Here Dead We Lie' by A E Housman and the well known, 'The Soldier' by Rupert Brooke. Some of the selection was easier to read than others but congratulations to them all for reading these poems.
The second part included other work by some well known names. However two Stanza Mar Menor members read their own work. Margaret Rowland read her 'Flamenco' to great applause. David Leslie Urion read his down-to-earth humorous poem entitled 'Mr Scruffy Buffadonkalo' with laughter being raised almost by line by line. Congratulations to them both. On a more serious note I read 'Mid-term Break' by Seamus Heaney - a classic poem in my view.
It was a literary evening with everyone being welcoming and friendly. We would like to do it again and maybe we will. I also hope that some of these students will attend the Stanza meetings and thereby incorporating them into our group and us into their lives.
Our next stanza meetings will be on Friday 16th May and Friday 30th May in San Javier.
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