The One Before The Auction… Also known as The One with a Handful of Virgins and a Bunch of Slappers - but that could apply to most acoustic nights. Or The One Which Was Really Packed, Really Early.

With the new sign up time of 7.45pm fast approaching, I arrived to an already crowded room with people anxiously looking at their watches and waiting for the blank sheet to appear so they could get their names down. I bottled out of performing and so took on the roll of blogger - not without trepidation cos I knew it would mean staying up waaaay past my bedtime.

With the brave and beautiful Andi Langford-Woods as MC, I knew the night would be good, right from the offset. Andi opened the first half with an old piece, still fiercely relevant today, questioning injustices and attitudes and seeking progress and change. Acoustic Nights often unintentionally develop themes where lots of performers seem to be on the same track - and this desire to make amends and move forwards seemed to be on the minds of many performers in the room tonight. That and love, of course.

Next up was Wilf who opened with a poem about poetry and how his poems have changed. Now they are ‘Not Slam winners’ but ‘Growing word-driven glowing miracles’. I agree, whole-heartedly. His second piece was an invitation to baggage-carriers to bring it on, as life’s experiences are ‘Weaving one ugly tapestry, one fucking beautiful blanket - one miracle.’ So that’s two miracles, one per poem. Excellent.

Bryn was next, dropping in for a quick sing before rushing home to change nappies, we were told. His song was By the By a strong piece with words fitting well around the rhythms. Woodie Guthrie came to mind but maybe that’s cos I am old. Fine stuff.

John Terry claimed he was being self-indulgent by reading two poems not his own. I love his stuff so much I would have been upset but John - of course - picked two high-quality pieces and read them so brilliantly that I decided to forgive him. His first poem by Anno, a deceased friend of Jane Birkin’s, was full of blistering lines ‘I am the ring that won’t slip off with soap’ ‘Honour covered in mud’ and ‘…made me more unhappy, and kind’ to quote just a few. A poem that left me both happy and sad. This was followed by Edward Thomas exploring ‘Old Man’ the common name for the herb of remembrance, the scent of which he holds with a bitter passion - ‘I would rather give up others more sweet’ - as it links him to his life. John Terry both rocks and has gravitas.

Barry-not-Billy Moran was next with two instrumental pieces. First was Rattle Back Step (we think that’s what it was called) and it was a great piece of delta blues - or ’round those parts, anyway. My husband is both American and a guitarist and I really wish he’d been at this night for lots of reasons but mostly ‘cos he’ have loved this piece, played with both verve and control. I’m not confident about the name of the second piece…Alcoholic Serenade? Swamp Head Serenade?? Maybe Alcoholic Swamp Head Serenade???. This was a slower, more dreamy piece that left me grinning happily, whatever it was called. Smooth. In a good way.At this point Peter Hunter (no less) said ‘I’m glad I didn’t sign up tonight - I’d be crapping myself, given the quality so far.’ Agreed.”

BARRY MORAN

“Next up was a favourite of mine, Mr Nathan Filer. Nathan’s poetry seems to contain every thought I have ever had about loving, living and longing. And thinking. Only he says it much better than I think it - AND he’s funny. So much so that I miss some of his best lines cos I’m laughing so hard. His first poem ‘Monolithic Dirgic Whine’ exposes his need for praise and applause and love and a reason, please, a reason, any reason … for being dumped after just 12 days. Nathan lets rip on a rhyme scheme and uses lots of words ending in ‘ation’ while begging for his sanity back which can happen if she’d just tell him why. His second piece ‘Hold on tightly, Let go lightly’ was written for a friend after a break up and was the most gentle rant I’ve heard in a long time. The repetitions of ‘It was not you’ I found very moving and this piece showed a versatile poet proving that poetry can rebuild someone’s self-esteem word by word. Cracking.

Pete Gioconda followed - an Acoustic Night Virgin…but not for long and with two appearances on the stage in one night he now slips neatly into the slapper category, if you’ll pardon the expression. I am normally a bit allergic to the mouth organ but felt Pete played both that, and his guitar, well. But what won me over completely were the poignant lyrics of the first song ‘I must start my heart… I’ve been dead so long, lying like a statue.’ The second song was about the death of Gordan Brown and as I like a good high body-count in songs, I was happy. Dylan is the obvious comparison here, but I got more of a Donovan feel. Promising.

Talking Tekla the Narrator took us through the shifting titles of his first poem, from ‘Mother’ to ‘Romance’ to simply ‘Her’. This poem showed the passage from lover to mother and praised woman for all the world’s work of raising children. One of my neighbours thought he was trying to pull with this poem! But I thought it was really likeable - open and honest. The second piece described how Tekla wants to be spiritually rich and is not interested in ‘your profit’. All in all a tight performance, true to the acoustic night ethos. Short and sweet.

Not like this blog which might be going on a bit but it was such a good night …

Another virgin, Billy, was on next and played us in to an instrumental piece that was well-crafted and despite being techinically complex, was flowing well. Then his guitar went all jazz on him … but he managed a quick re-tune, didn’t get phased and turned out a couple of belters that he held together well when they threatened to run away with him. Come back soon, I want more of that.

The next poet, Becca, said she’d been expecting a small crowd and was (I paraphrase) ’somewhat nervous’. But then she launched into a sparklingly lovely piece bringing to life The Tribe of Doris ‘Yes to danger, Yes to stranger’ describing the delights of partying Doris style and all the joys that brings. This made one old Doris at the back very happy - I thought I was outside in a field by some woods somewhere, off my face on life. Fab. Next came The Princess of Oz, an everyday story of a Princess and a Hero. This was another fine piece in which I think the Princess came of slightly better than the hero, who seemed to be a bit of a lothario. The only problem I had with this Acoustic Night was that there were not many women performers - just one of those things - so it was great to hear a strong female poet rock the room. Juicy.

REBECCA SMART

Next up was Andy who did two short poems, one being an advert for himself willing us to ‘buy me, keep me…fuck off and help me’ and the next ‘The urge’ being short and hard. Smart man, leaving us wanting more…

ANDY

Then Inks did the same with some pieces I almost missed, they went by so fast. Something about wanking, something about death and something about mind flares, I think, with the great line ‘My thoughts could power cities’. Both these poets reminded me of some tag poets I heard in the States a while back. Punchy and fine.

Then - joy to my ears, it was announced that the very wonderful Emma Harper is due to be the special guest at the Acoustic Night on 23 April. Don’t miss it - she is a talented, spirited singer who exudes love and all-around wonderfulness.

Mark was next (although if you were Karl, I’m sorry, I think both my list and hearing was wonky at this point) was next with a couple of songs he accompanied on a keyboard. He has a strong voice and sang about deep questions that can’t be ignored in What Will Become of Me? This was followed by another question in the song ‘Where is the Lion’ - an ark list of animals with the lion missing. I did wonder if the jackal had injured the gazelle and got a bit lost in what was or wasn’t going on. So I’ll just go with Jive’s description which was that this song was ‘So dope’.

MARK GARTSIDE

Assuming that was Mark, Karl followed with a song that took us on a walk along the side of a cornfield, meeting a friend walking barefoot through the stubble. His voice was lovely, light and clear, reminding me of Anthony as in Anthony and the Johnsons, slow and somehow majestic. I’m afraid I was catching up with an old friend during the second song but it made a beautiful backdrop for a beautiful reunion.

Break time and the traditional rattling of the collections jug. Next Acoustic Night is the Auction benefit for Ashton Court so please make sure you have a good amount of dosh on you then…it’ll be much appreciated.

I don’t know how to do a drum roll on a computer…….Next Up, all the way from Brooklyn….special guest …JIVE POETIC. Oh man, I’ve been in love with this man’s poetry for a long time now and he just gets better and better. Anyone who can make me laugh and cry in the same set - pretty much in the same poem, is top in my book and I must praise him like I should. Jive is all about love - the pain, the memories, the ridicule, the sex, the fights, the sex, breaking up, the making up, the making love - you get the picture. High School love clearly left him with some great material. Jive is still in love with every woman he’s ever been in love with and several he hasn’t even met yet which makes for some top quality open-heart poetry with lines like ’she told me she loved me….like….a cousin’ and ‘monogamy is a hoax’. Jive is the master of the poetry pause and so delivers lines like ‘I’ve never stalked anyone….on purpose’ and brings the house down. Some parts of his set were X rated and he asked them not to be filmed in case of some future girl-friend breaking up with him before they even met - understandable, one of them blew me off balance and I’m an old married lady. And a threatened minority, being a red-haired lefty, one of the minorities likely to be extinguished or at least controlled according to Mr Poetic, should the GM monogiants have their way. Jive also stopped the filming for a poem that has caused him to be troubled by the military police back in the good old U S of A. Knowing that there are political poets like Jive hard at work and shouting the odds against the idiocy of their leaders makes me feel a whole lot better about the fact that I’ll be living in America again soon. He rails against the notion that it’s ok to think ‘People will die or become more American’ and that a Starbucks in Iraq is what the Iraqis actually crave. In all this wonder my favourite piece was the last one, Grandmother, a lyrical poem charting how a mother tongue can get lost in translation as families try and make it easier for the next generation. Utterly faultless. Come back soon, Jive and I’ll see you in the Bowery if I get the chance.

Look out for video clip of Jive’s performance soon.

I said earlier on that redressing inequality was a theme of the evening and this is true but another theme was wanking, and the Rappers - called Culture Clash, I think, took up this theme amongst others. My ears couldn’t listen quite fast enough to catch all of it (I sound like my mum!!) but I heard the bit about them encouraging people to live a life in rap and pick up pen and paper and also caught the line about living in St Pauls ‘I wouldn’t leave the ghetto, if I won the lotto’ which made me grin. I’d like to hear more from this crew.

CULTURE CLASH

Andi our MC then did a quick piece giving thanks for all those on their journeys. Uplifting and life-affirming.

Phil Baber was next and gave a typically quirky, talented set. First was a song about a man born in a taxi cab in LA which we later discovered was a Tom Waits number. Phil manages to combine deceptively soft and sweet with strong and heart-felt singing and playing; he performs with understated yet sustained passion. His second piece was an anti-love song ‘Loneliness becomes you’ which had the audience joining in at one point. I loved the line ‘we lost our map or someone smashed our compass’ and the idea that once people fall in love they are irrevocably lost. One of my favourite songs of the night.

Next up was poet Dan Poulton who was incendiary, brilliant and caused the entire audience to have simultaneous epiphanies and orgasms. Well, that’s what he told me to write, anyway, sitting right next to me!! As it happens I have no problem saying good stuff about his work. The first piece was a chilling picture of Everyman/woman and the assumptions people make from what they see. I like patchwork poems like this that make me feel like I’m seeing the world through the poet’s own kaleidoscope, drawing out my insight and empathy. If you auction this poem Dan, I’ll bid for it - but make sure you keep a copy. As I love writing on trains, his second piece ‘Longest Stop’ appealed to me greatly as it imagined what would be written if you had eternity on a train. Brain food. Ta.

Another Dan followed, Dan Douglas (marked V on my list…Virgin, I suppose, not Vegan, although I guess he could be, as well). Dan’s piece ‘Notch on my belt’ encountered a few tech problems but was still a (mostly) confident piece which he’d written at a previous acoustic night. Just shows how inspiring these nights are.

DAN DOUGLAS

Around this point I couldn’t help noticing that the room was lovely and smokey….Dan’s second piece, Flowers (well that’s what I wrote down, but of course it could have been the start of a shopping list or just a random thought by this stage…it was getting late…) was a song about new love and drinking beer and pain and misery. Just what I needed and with the great line ‘I’m the shadow to your light’. Nick Drake-esque if I may make so bold. I hope we were gentle with you Dan and that you’ll come again (groan).

At this point I went to the loo and I know I missed something….but was just back in time for Gary Death (is that the same Gary Death, visual artist??) who has moved house a lot recently but has the good sense to be in Bristol now. He delivered a powerful rant about housing obsessed, mortgaged Britain ‘How much? It’s a rabbit hutch!’ ‘I never understood, the price people put, on money’. Top. Then a very moving piece ‘A bundle of Sticks’ about his Grandad, a true hero in the age of worthless slebs. Gary said his Grandad lived ‘A charity driven life’ which made me feel the weakness of all that red-nose stuff. No sentimentality, just well expressed emotion.

Next up was Pat Reid with some Great Admirers but no knitting. I always love the songs and the performance of Pat and his cohorts and it was personally good to see Paul Vallis up on stage again. I caught the line ‘Yes, it is she, there is no other, over and out’ and it has haunted me since then. My best bit was when Pat sang ‘I hear a trumpet’ and Paul came in on the Tin Whistle - I’m told this was deliberate modern irony. Phew, I’m glad someone explained that to me, I just thought it was charming and funny. Can’t get enough.

PJ Buchanan nee Duncan AKA Poetry Jack was next with a bravura farewell performance. First she did a short Haiku in praise of love called First Anniversary which made us all go aaaaaaah. Next was a skillful, simple and simply beautiful short story, tracing her parents meeting, loving and meltdown. PJ draws lives from words and worlds from lives and in this meeting of hot and cold she shows how love formed and died and how ‘My mother, escaped from his handy fists to the heat’ as she fled Scotland for Italy. PJ, you will be greatly missed, keep shining out your love where ever you go. Durham’s gain, our loss.

POETRY JACK

No one sitting near me knew if Tim was a virgin, but if he was, he isn’t now. What I’m sure about is that he’s a wicked singer-songwriter with atmospheric lyrics and matching music. I got a bit nostalgic for the first time I heard Ben Harper at one point and hope Tim thinks that’s a compliment. His song ‘Car Crash Girl’ had the line ‘Let your parting smile last a while’ but he promises the song is not necrophilic because, bless, he looked it up. By then I was a very tired blogger and am pretty deaf at the best of times so was convinced that the next song was called ‘Hamster Cheese’ although I soon figured out it was Hamster Cheeks - d’oh! Tired I may have been but I still didn’t miss the lines ‘Tides go in and tides go out, Tides of glut and tides of drought’ which I found intensely pleasing. Daddy G said his voice was ‘more mellifluous than most’ but I can’t spell that. (I can…ed.) I got a quick whiff of Jeff Buckley in there. Jeff Buckley and Ben Harper. Praise indeed.

Miles Chambers was next and performed a rattling piece describing life for Black families in the 50s and 60s, telling of the promises made of riches to be found here - and the social and economic inequalities that were the reality. It’s important to hear this and to be reminded that racism is still rife in this city and the BNP think Bristol has wards worth fighting. ‘Back then, racism was all around, you didn’t have to keep your ear to the ground’ he tells us, but also shows how this current still runs through our lives…a good reminder just as we’re ‘celebrating’ Abolition. As ever with Miles, there’s some humour to shine through and his second piece, an old favourite, was the Yardie/Posh Brit translation piece where Yardie man say one ting and posh Brit man translates that thing. This always makes me laugh and makes me long for the next time I hear DJ Derek….

Penultimate poet, Caroline Sawyer, is not keen on blokes, especially not those she’s known who are afflicted with PMT - which seems to be all of them. PMT in this instance stands for Persistent Male Triviality and this makes her have her own PMT which is when she’s Pissed off with Male Tantrums. She says when she gets PMT she refuses to be downtrodden - but only for three days a month. Not quite sure I believe that, Caroline! Her second piece had a long introduction and I got a bit lost in it except eventually I realised that someone had been vile to her and told her to go back where she belongs (’Clifton’ yells Ian - the best heckle of the night). The poem itself was a plea to look beyond the colour of her skin and see her achievements. It also states clearly that she doesn’t want to be judged or told what to do. So I won’t.

Last but by no means least, Julian Ramsey-Wade takes the stage and in potent poet style paints his boy’s grin for us all to see. It’s a grin so big Ju wonders if he can possibly be more happy. As usual, Julian goes to the heart of the emotion and gives it to all of us to share. And that made me very happy. So if Eric is ever half as happy as you made us, Ju, then he’ll be blessed with joy and wonder forever. But then you’re his Dad, so that’s pretty much a given.

Ok - blog over and out. Sorry if I have completely misrepresented your musical influences or poetic intentions or whatever. You can always answer back via pollyatmoyerdotwanadoodotcodotuk. Meanwhile …. Can’t wait for the next one….

ACOUSTIC NIGHT STATS

Audience 80+
Performers 28 yes we ran very late!
AN Virgins 5

Dyslexi-blog a la liminalG

Some of my words plus some of theirs.

Part 1

MC Julian Ramsey-Wade opened in his usual inimitable & dashing style.

Gina Briganti started, mmm, seen her b4 somewhere!

Carmen & Brian. Brian gave us poetic silence & tranquil spaces. Carmen gave us poetic silence, bones & voices. Lovely.

Hollow Buddy.

Dude with guitar. Two bluesy songs, one with harmonica called ‘Won’t Call You’ & one with ‘thoughts that can grow’. Atmospheric & emotive.

Steve Franks. Short story, ‘Man in the Café’; man finds sympathy & coffee in a café. ‘Psychosis’, a poetic piece of staccato rhymes & thoughts. Meaningful.

Dan Poulton.

‘Performing & meeting people’ with his red electric guitar. ‘Monday Morning’, thunder in his head, angels & demons in his beard! Also, ‘How Can You Love Me This Way’. Melancholy & consistent. He’s done stand up b4, a multi-talented guy.

Adam Burkes. Nice coat! Poem, ‘Madness’, word layers, visceral textures, woman, room, depression. Adept stuff.

Sarah Tamar. Poems. ‘Daffodils’, yellow transformation too bright she says, spring blues. Not a fan of Wordsworth! ‘Afluenza’, shopping cynicism but likes it better than flowers! Emotionally revealing.

Kev the Poet. Nice shirt! Romance first, slow hip hop ‘love you properly’ story with cynical twist. Expressive. Also, empathetic spiritual hip hop comment, ‘poetic shamanic flight’, ‘warm words’ indeed.

John Terry, ‘doesn’t know why he likes Acoustic Night’!. Poems. 1^st, ‘spring is sex’ he says, city images of seasonal revival. 2^nd, images from childhood of being with his mother, but time is robbing him of these precious memory links. We know why we like him though; excellent poetry.

Phil Baber. 

Has ‘secret & perverse’ reasons for liking AN!!! New songs. ‘The Little Possessive Song’, don’t squash the butterfly or pick the jasmine, let the person you love be free’. Plus ‘Loneliness Becomes You’, an anti-love song with a love ending; kinda thing. One of your best, I think. Great songs Phil.

Talking Tekla the Narrator, likes ‘a chance to express his views & niceness’. 1^st ‘Ambiguous’, ‘she played too much when they were apart, so now he’s baiting a new love, but too fast!’ 2^nd ‘Then ‘til now’, TT gave us the beginning of this moving piece for Abolition200, ‘living cargo that never made it’; but moved on to… 3^rd ‘Leave Now’, a man talking his way out…

Eloquent, energetic, inspiring. TEKLA

Part Two

‘Tick tock, tick tock’ MC Julian Ramsey Wade, brings us back as only he knows how.

SPECIAL GUESTS – Holly & Sally. An engaging set; beautifully simple delivery plus easy fluid guitar. Nice groove.

Seven songs ranging from Bob Dylan & Johnny Cash to Gillian Welch & Joni Mitchell. The songs suit the voice so well, or is it the other way round.

The crowd loved it. Time flew. Properly unpretentious. HOLLY AND SALLY
Andi Langford Woods. ’AN keeps her off the streets’! Two pieces both unpredictable & brilliantly poetic. ‘like a (good) glass of wine’ indeed; bring me the bottle.

James White. Songs. ‘Freedom’, husky & gutsy. ‘I’m Gonna Be Seeing You’, he says ‘a person with a dream is a dangerous thing’. Passionate.

Jenny Martin. ‘Wants 2 be out there’. Page poem, ‘Assembly of the Self’. Performance poem, ‘Two Sides of Surrey’. Well crafted, self assured.

Dave, Jaws Harp Supremo. Folky & indigenous all at once. Phil B collaborated on 2nd piece. Mesmeric soundscapes.

Hazel Hammond ‘loves to perform’. 3 short poems on a 1930’s divorce.

Maid’s Tale, ‘soft heat of sugared tea’.

Detective’s Tale, ‘testing the shutter will click’.

Wife’s Tale, ‘unlearning the provocation of desire’.

Eminently quotable.

Haplow likes to ‘raise his game’. Said players have guitar faces, like ‘sex’ ones; funny. 2 songs, ‘Don’t Break My Heart’ & ‘Ursor Minor’. Melodic, heartfelt, genuine. Sentient voice.

HAPLOW

Ian Sills says ‘AN is always different & exciting’. 2 poems. ‘Tale of Two Cities’, ‘cos he’s a product of Bristol & Manchester. ‘Abolition Rap’ i.e. Wilberforce’s Abolition Band, he had a lot 2 say on that. Confident, competent rhyming verse, as always.

Neil aka Tracy Neil Ellis Brookes (BENT backwards, so 2 speak!). He ‘wants 2 share his mind’ & his songs. ‘Butterfly’ & ‘Will U Still B Around’. Disarming, great picking, beautiful. Handles his voice & guitar with dexterity & strength.

  NEIL

STATS
Performers 23
Audience 67
Acoustic Night Virgins 9 (good heavens!)

To expound, perform and express, to arose emotion to be the best.
With the use of just words placed neatly on a page
Trying to perfectly work musical instruments,
All this can leave you in a rage
Tonight some brave souls had a go!
They did ask me but I said No!
So…here is what I thought with my ears and eyes in full attention.
Although there are some things I just can’t mention.

THE KINDLY ONES
They nicely played soft music and sang
Even if their songs were about losing a man
The flute and guitar met vocals with certain flair.
What I don’t understand is why they wanted to auction their hair.

TRACY WALL

Tracy had a funny cheeky style;
What stood out was… here big, big, big… smile.
She seemed to know some strange, Queens and Freudian men. She was quite a tease!
Oh Tracy, you live in Glastonbury, if we let you read another poem,
can you get me some tickets for the Festival please?

JAMES WHITE

James… strummed and strummed and strummed!
James Hummed and hummed and hummed!
Don’t get me wrong he looked cool and played with his heart.
Up there on stage he really looked the part.
His lyrics. Once I heard them, had style and there were quite mellow.
I kinda reckon, with those side burns, he looks like Elvis Costello.

JOHN TERRY
John told us about how a woman could be like an aeroplane
How the mechanics of a woman can drive a man insane
You want to auction your body John OK… let me know when you wanna start the bid.
I just rummaged through my pockets and I got a couple of quid!

MISTY BLUE
Misty Blue… Misty blue… How do you do?
Misty blue… Misty blue… Here’s what I think of you!
You’re a rock chick with the voice of a singing Diva
A far cry from the Disco Pop of Saturday Night Fever
A voice of clarity and passion, you strum those strings so hard does it hurt?
What I couldn’t help noticing was your itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie.
Black and white check mini skirt.

RICHARD LAWSON

Richard had a witty descriptive poetic, direction.
Then he got us all doing an American Army imitation.

MONTY

“Dancing shoes, filthy Rich. In a ditch, dignified!”
City Walls, Sand Castles Yea he’s the dude rocked the place.
A pop star in the making. See ya on the cover of NME or Face.
Why did they call you a virgin was that a joke Helen made?
If it’s true, don’t worry after tonight you’ll get laid!

GORDON

“I’d like to go the pleasant valley, with the neat tick tock beat”

You got our attention with the lady that lived next door, you told that one sweet!
Then the Valentine tale hit the spot, funny, witty, some bits true
Gordon all this talk about love, but if you’re still a virgin there is really nothing I can do!

PHIL BABER

Sing man sing, let the lyrics flow. Sing man sing I can see it’s your thing!
His first song was sad but yet captivating, his trousers
Were a bit high, like had just been on a pushbike.
Oh Mr technician please waits till Phil’s finished
His melodious rendition before adjusting mikes.

POETRY JACK
A good start. A good middle and a good end.
I’d love to meet your Cherry Aqua, Fruit salad, Friend.
“Eh up lass” We got a rendition on Homosexual bliss.
I’ve probably missed the point but if I saw you on a train station I’d give you a kiss.

GINA B.

Yo G! Go G! let Go G! Like the Style G!
If Puff Daddy were here he’d get a fright.
Gina let it rip with her own version of Rappers Delight.

DAVID BRUZANCO

David… David Bruzanco that sound was really cool! But what did you do.
How did you get those two pairs of surgical scissors make those clever noises for you?

POLLY

Straight talking; Cool walking; Dance loving Poet; Who knows how a poem should be told
If you want to see her again, you know where to find her some where on Gloucester Road!

PAUL MOYER
Descriptive narrative, informative and funny
The American accent completed it, even if he told us
About his ex girl fiend, in front of his “Honey!”

TEKLA THE NARRATOR

Boom, boom boom big it up to the new man on the block

First time he’s performing, clever, witty, lots of good stock.
Playing games with your mind with assumptions and two way conversation.
Tekla try and keep up, only two poems or… one ten-minute duration.

BEN BIRD

A short journey of lyrical, literary, wordsmith passion.
Delivered in a natural, rhythmic, personal, fashion!

JAY

Jay did a poem with once upon a time
Told a story, after a world pool of a rhythm
You know… I think the lights were quite dim in this place
Cause the paper Jay had was held quite close to his face.

WILF

Looks like a bad bwouy rebellious and wild
But… his lyrics were charming considered and styled
I gotta say that was a magical use of the pen.
No holds barred I’d give you 10/10

PETE

Not in my name…. Not in my name… Not in my name
Ca Wha… Come on Pete lets her it again?

HAL CAMPLIN
Save the best til last
Got the crowd going, “what a blast”
Hal playing to us ended the night with a bang
I reckon with that outfit he’s gonna start the “Flat Cap” gang.

CATHY KEAL

Precise and humorous with a voice of good diction
A busy loaded narrative some truth, some fiction
A marathon of lyrics and words, what a blues!
All of that stuff just about shoes!
It’s hard to go up there, come with something good and entertain
Your tongue gets dry your legs go weak and it’s a strain on the brain.
So…Whether you’re short, long, slim inney, piny, Cherry Garcia or blue
Whether your names; Monty, Jack, Tekla, Gordon, Phil, Richard or your shirts see through.

If your drinking Beer, wine, Orange juice, Chips, that everyone has eaten, Lager or Coffee
Boogie … I said Boogie…yes man boogie to the Halo Poetry Posse.

Miles Hilton Chambers