Our first event for 2012 is poetry at the Lamb and Flag, the Tything in Worcester featuring the likes of Pat Winslow and Susanne Ehrhardt - this event is free but importantly please note that it takes place on the 4th January.
It starts at 8pm and is run by Templar poetry. There will be books for sale.
More information is available on Templar and the poets here http://templarpoetry.co.uk/index.html.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand; A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter's dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew And I was unaware.
You can find out more background here http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2009/dec/28/poem-of-the-week-the-darkling-thrush-thomas-hardy.
Poem Flow is an app that turns poems into "a gentle reading animation".
An instant multimedia effect that allows you see the poem differently as it quietly reads itself to you. Twenty poems come with the app and you can add additional poems cheaply. Sample poems are from the western tradition canon e.g. Dover beach. The product is American in origin.
Your own poetry next? Are you already doing this?
More on the app here http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/poem-flow/id339835648?mt=8.
Born in Lahore in 1954, Imtiaz Dharker is a Scottish Muslim, poet, artist and documentary film-maker. She grew up in Glasgow and now divides her time between London and Mumbai. She writes in English. She has written three books of poetry, conceived as sequences of poems and drawings.
This tweet poetry At the Lahore Karhai is from a poem about food, place, migration and home.
Every Sunday Night Brooklyn's Jazz Cafe in Association. Sign up starts at 6:30. FREE PARKING. FREE ADMISSION. FREE SPEECH.
What more could you ask for? What is the weather like in Texas this time of year...
Find the jazz cafe at 1701 S Lamar St, Dallas, TX 75215. This event winds up on the 25th March 2012 to be replaced I am sure by something equally exciting so you should probably go anyway if you are reading this in the future.
Its ancestry can be traced back to the cut and paste technique but unlike its intelligent older brother sound art, mash poetry is visceral and proud of it.
British poet Adrian Henri might have been the first in New fast automatic daffodils.
I wandered lonely as THE NEW FAST AUTOMATIC DAFFODIL, FULLY AUTOMATIC that floats on high o'er vales and hills The Daffodil is generously dimensioned to accommodate four adult passengers 10,000 saw I at a glance Nodding their new anatomically shaped heads in sprightly dance Beside the lake beneath the trees in three bright modern colours red, blue and pigskin.
A newer take on the form is to video mash poets with repeats and jumps. Try it and let us know...
Does a poem have to be true? Walter Scott said of his own poem Lay of the last minstrel that he had never seen Melrose Abbey by moonlight - although one of its climactic sequences describes just that (and that moment of imagination spawned a tourist industry in the Scottish Borders).
Scholars have spent an equal amount of time considering Lesbia's sparrow:
He never flew out of her lap,
but, hopping about here and there,
only chirping to his lady, alone....
Do sparrows do this?
The only answer is of course that they do when they are Lesbia's.
An original recording from 1972, a selection of Bob Cobbing's sound poems and interview with Charles Amirkhanian recorded in Cobbing’s home. Bob Cobbing (1920 - 2002) was a British sound, visual, concrete and performance poet and a central figure in what has been described as the British Poetry Revival.
Cris Cheek is a British poet, artist, interdisciplinary performer and academic currently resident at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, USA. Born in London in 1955, he lived and worked in the UK until the early 1990s. One early influence was working alongside Bob Cobbing at the Poetry Society and the Writers Forum group of poets who met with regularity there.