Another Last Word — Cliff Yates

Here’s my new collection, Another Last Word, a chapbook published by The Red Ceilings Press. A limited edition of 40 numbered copies. Thanks to Mark Cobley. ‘I never thought you were going to start making poetry out of your own hopelessness’ – Gillian Yates ‘I laughed out loud as well as now and then wincing. […]

Another Last Word — Cliff Yates

On the Grit — The smell of water

Moors Are a stage for the performance of heaven. The audience is incidental. A chess-world of top-heavy Kings and Queens Circling in stilted majesty tremble the bog-cotton Under the sweep of their robes. Ted Hughes Pretty much at the top of my post-lockdown visit list was a trip to visit Jenny Twigg and her Daughter […]

On the Grit — The smell of water

Her eyes became a wound — The Feathered Sleep

If there were a river it would run straight through your bones Calcifying you to ash This branding, is the moon’s doing She split you at birth, you sing two songs Stir yourself then … before this dissolve reinforces despair In time we shall join you, there in your undoing, where you began and ended,…

Her eyes became a wound — The Feathered Sleep

Hearing the Words: ‘The Nightfishing’ by W.S. Graham

Poetry Owl

Louise Glück, in her essay Invitation and Exclusion[1], argues for poetry that requires a listener or a reader rather than that which is merely overheard, contrasting Eliot, whose ‘cri du coeur craves a listener who becomes, by virtue of his absorption, [the poet’s] collaborator’ with Wallace Stevens: ‘Stevens’ meditative poems are not addressed outward; they are allowed to be overheard’.  Some readers regard the work of W.S. Graham, with its enduring preoccupation with language, as metapoetry, exclusive because it is concerned with the writing of poetry, rather than with the world.  This is very far from the truth as can be demonstrated from an analysis of The Nightfishing, pivotal in the poet’s career. Graham’s poem is about the sea, about the real sea, ‘a grey green sea, not a chocolate box sea’, a poem which he hoped would make ‘somebody seasick ( a good unliterary measurement)’;[2] it is…

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#DeafAwarenessWeek2021 poetry and artwork. Have you written unpublished/published about deafness? Have you made artworks about it? Having to wear two hearing aids myself I have a small awareness of the difficulties that happen. Please DM me, or send a message via my WordPress blog.

DAW2021

Cynghanedd for cover DAW SLWThe race to cynganeddu DAW SLW

 

Dr Sara Louise Wheeler

has Waardenburg Syndrome Type 1, a genetic condition which affects her physical appearance as well as her hearing. She writes the column ‘O’r gororau’ (from the borders) for Barddas Welsh poetry magazine and her poetry, belles lettres and artwork has been published by Unique Poetry Journal, Dark Poets Club, Fahmidan Journal, Cloverleaf Zine, and 3am Magazine. Sara is currently writing an autobiographical bildungsroman opera called The Silver Princess, funded by Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru. Originally from Wrecsam in North East Wales, she now lives on the Wirral peninsula with her husband Peter and their pet tortoise Kahless.

 

 

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Excellent video from Taking Flight Theatre Company

Volunteer Work by Peter Thabit Jones

Arachne Press in their project “Stairs and Whispers”

created a whole series of poetry written in British Sign Language all available on Youtube. they have kindly allowed me to quote some examples:

Presented as part of Stairs and Whispers: D/deaf and Disabled Poets Write Back (Nine Arches Press, 2017, edited by Sandra Alland, Khairani Barokka & Daniel Sluman)

Find more BSL poetry here: BSL poetry – YouTube

Another useful link is to the British Sign Language Poetry Playlist by Kate Lovell: https://disabilityarts.online/playlist/british-sign-language-poetry/

other useful links:

https://deaffirefly.com/bsl-poetry/

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/disability-40670284

https://www.signbsl.com/sign/poem

http://www.bristol.ac.uk/media-library/sites/education/migrated/documents/iconicity.pdf

Ailbhe’s Tale by Lynn Buckle

Ailbhe’s Tale – National Centre for Writing

David Hackbridge Johnson on Andrew Duncan: A Barbarian Tripos

The High Window

Andrew Duncan was born in Leeds, in 1956. He studied as a mediaevalist and started his writing career in punk ‘fanzines’. He has been publishing poetry since the late 1970s, serving as the editor of the magazine Angel Exhaust. Duncan worked as a labourer (in England and Germany) after leaving school, and subsequently as a project planner with a telecoms manufacturer (1978–87), and as a programmer for the Stock Exchange.

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duncan_big cropped

You can read listen to Andrew Duncan reading his poems here

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A Barbarian Tripos: – On Andrew Duncan
David Hackbridge Johnson

The alien cultures
punk fanzine of new vistas
mesh of a Chinese martial-arts movie
our modern mercantile mess.

This is not meant as a poem but is ‘found’ from the blurbs on the back covers of four Andrew Duncan poetry volumes. Not at all randomly culled. From these perceptive fragments it might be possible to make…

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#InternationalDawnChorusDay Have you heard the birds? Have you written unpublished/published about the dawn chorus? Have you made artworks/photosabout it? Please DM me, or send a message via my WordPress blog.

dawn chorus day

Its not aboutdawn by soo finch

-Soo Finch

you don't have to be a lark by Jonathon Totman

-Jonathan Totman

A Dawn Chorus (Vacana 11)

O, Lady of the Breath.
how to arc in your air?

A dozen or more tiny caves
sing you into the world

from the trillbudded barkskin
volume and delivery

a root that connects with
its origin tree,

broadcasts to my ears,
territory songs,

and chat up lines, a Saturday
night on the town played out

on a morning before the wormshop,
home repair, teach bairns how to fly,

-Paul Brookes

https://fb.watch/5erTppj9Gw/

NaPoWriMo Day 31: Bonus

Zouxzoux

Holding On

If only we could all be

like the children

we once were

before we were pushed

into a harsh reality

by selfish adults.

Our laughter and openness

smothered by discipline,

verbal hands

covering our mouths.

We gathered our moments

gratefully — bits of starlight,

deep woods quiet, wild violets

and jonquils in Spring. We held them

close, like talismans for the future.

We held on until we didn’t have to.

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Bonus prompt via The Wombwell Rainbow

Art by Kerfe Roig

So I missed the last two days of NaPoWriMo. I’m sad but it couldn’t be helped. I had my last COVID-19 vaccination on Wednesday and was rather sick for 48 hours after. All I wanted was to sleep or try to sleep. But I’m all better now and when I saw the bonus prompt I decided to jump in. My poem is on the sad side but…

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