Preston Poets Society

Happy New Year

2012-01-31T01:27:00.000-08:00

Happy New writing Year to you all. The new calendar for the year has been published along with the latest newsletter (both available on the website). PPS are currently working through the drafts of their booklet for the Guild festival which is looking good. So keep an eye out for that and also I wish you all a good writing year!

Merry Christmas and new poetic year

2011-12-23T11:39:00.001-08:00

The Christmas meeting now far behind and Christmas upon us. (Link here to the pie I usually make for it and another winter poem).

So we want to wish you a wonderful festive time and here is winter haiku :

Frost and ice outside
All the presents now opened
Inside, hope and warmth

By Ian f.

Have a great time.

Gearing up for the Guild

2011-11-12T07:30:00.000-08:00

Currently the Preston Poets Society are working on a book of poetry, which will contain many different styles and many different poets. This is being produced for next year which is the Preston Guild year. Preston Guild (for anyone unfamiliar) is a celebration which is now held every 20 years and has been held since 833 years ago. In 1179 Preston was granted a Guild Merchant by Henry II. The Guild controlled trade in the town and so the list of members had to be updated from time to time. This was also the time for celebration.
Although later on there was free trade in the town the Guild survived because of the social occasion which continues to this day or in fact next year! I will let you know when there is an update on the book, also more details on the Guild and events etc can be found here.

Also I have written up a little article on my other blog about Preston being European City of Sport next year. This along with my running poem that I had already posted can be found here.

Remembrance Day

2011-11-11T03:40:00.001-08:00

Here is a poem by Robert W Service who was born in Preston. It is from his book called Rhymes from a Red Cross Man. It was written in memory of his brother who was killed in action in France in 1916.

Our Hero by Robert W Service

"Flowers, only flowers — bring me dainty posies,
Blossoms for forgetfulness," that was all he said;
So we sacked our gardens, violets and roses,
Lilies white and bluebells laid we on his bed.
Soft his pale hands touched them, tenderly caressing;
Soft into his tired eyes came a little light;
Such a wistful love-look, gentle as a blessing;
There amid the flowers waited he the night.

"I would have you raise me; I can see the West then:
I would see the sun set once before I go."
So he lay a-gazing, seemed to be at rest then,
Quiet as a spirit in the golden glow.
So he lay a-watching rosy castles crumbling,
Moats of blinding amber, bastions of flame,
Rugged rifts of opal, crimson turrets tumbling;
So he lay a-dreaming till the shadows came.

"Open wide the window; there's a lark a-singing;
There's a glad lark singing in the evening sky.
How it's wild with rapture, radiantly winging:
Oh it's good to hear that when one has to die.
I am horror-haunted from the hell they found me;
I am battle-broken, all I want is rest.
Ah! It's good to die so, blossoms all around me,
And a kind lark singing in the golden West.

"Flowers, song and sunshine, just one thing is wanting,
Just the happy laughter of a little child."
So we brought our dearest, Doris all-enchanting;
Tenderly he kissed her; radiant he smiled.
"In the golden peace-time you will tell the story
How for you and yours, sweet, bitter deaths were ours. . . .
God bless little children!" So he passed to glory,
So we left him sleeping, still amid the flow'rs.

Autumn Newsletter & New publications and website

2011-10-09T08:36:00.000-07:00

The latest Newsletter is available to download. It includes poems and articles from the poetry trip and Preston FM. It can be downloaded here.

Also

Terry Quinn has had poems published in quite a few poetry magazines including : Acumen, Dawntreader ... Purple Patch and Presence.

Martin Domleo

has launched his own website where you can read some poems, descriptions on his book and about himself: www.martindomleo.co.uk

Publications galore!

2011-04-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

Quickly first off the new newsletter is available to read here and also the usual place on the right hand side. It includes details about publications from various members of the society. I will quickly list here , as you can read more details in the newsletter!

Terry has had poems published in Orbis, Equinox and The Interpreter's House

Dorothy has recently created a website which you can find here which includes details about her books including the new one

Martin has published a new collection of poetry called Decelerations (published
by Lapwing ISBN 978-1-90727-667-5)

Good to see all these publications and more details can be found in the newsletter!

Getting Published - Part 3

2011-04-06T08:02:00.000-07:00

Part 3 of the talk given by Terry Quinn

A non-exhaustive list of magazines,e-magazines and competitions with some comments. Which may give you an idea of places you can get published -editor

Magazines

Acumen: No advice on this one – but it has to be good. Around 10,000- 15,000 poems a year; and can only publish a hundred and fifty at the most; so the chances of rejection are high. But then this applies to most magazines.

When reading poetry I look for a poem that says something which is not trivial, not obvious, doesn't use outworn images or diction, and which works at many levels simultaneously. I don't accept e-mail submissions, but will send rejections, acceptances, proofs and other communications via email overseas to dispense with IRCs and other international postage.

- quote from Editor. Two weeks for reply

Artemis: women’s poetry

Dawntreader: The Dawntreader is a quarterly 56 page perfect bound literary publicaton with an international readership which gives the opportunity to let the imagination run free. The Dawntreader specialises in myth, legend; in the landscape, nature; spirituality and love; the mystic, the environment

Envoi: well produced magazine now based in Wales. We generally try to select a small group of poems that represent a poet’s voice, but will also take individual poems. Send up to six. 10 weeks for reply

Iota: used to be the best of the small presses but Bob Mee and Janet Murch have given up and it’s gone to the University of Gloucester. Now it’s thick and full of wordy articles ( in my opinion ). But - submissions are judged anonymously. Your name should not appear on the poetry. Include a separate sheet with your name, address and a full list of poems submitted. 5 months for reply

Magma: One of the main magazines in shops. Poems may be sent by email or post – both receive equal consideration. Contribution deadlines for the three issues are the end of February, mid-July and the end of October. Poems are considered for one issue only. As Magma receives a very large number of poems ( 30,000), they cannot consider more than 6 poems per poet per issue. 2 weeks for reply

Mslexia: good reputation.

North: Try if you like but it must receive 30,000 a year and publish 150. 3 months for reply.

OBSESSED WITH PIPEWORK is a quarterly magazine of new highwire poetry "to surprise and delight". Started in 1997, it is now in its twelfth year and continues to attract submissions of first-class poems from both established poets and absolute beginners from all parts of the English-speaking world. Has a reputation for publishing poets for the first time.

Orbis: Carole Baldock from the Wirral. When Carole says 4 poems she means four poems. When work is returned with an invite for further submissions, please do not interpret ‘in due course’ as ‘by return of post’.
And with email, it does not mean send more within the next half hour.
Good magazine where you can vote for Readers Award. 1 month reply

Purple Patch: What can I say about PP. Probably launched more poets than any other magazine. Geoff Stevens ( the editor ) was described in the Guardian as a National Treasure. One week reply.

Rialto: the one that annoys me the most. It has Arts Council grants. It has 4 staff and it’s response time is usually a huge 6 months.

Stand: Only North and Stand magazines used to be in Waterstones. It has an unreadable website. Stand first appeared in 1952 when Jon Silkin used his £5 redundancy money, received after trying to organise some of his fellow manual workers, to found a magazine which would 'Stand' against injustice and oppression, and 'Stand' for the role that the arts, poetry and fiction in particular, could and should play in that fight. If that was still the case I would be shouting its praises. On the one occasion I submitted a poem about 8 years ago it took a year to reply. I’m sure it’s better now.

Emagazines:

Emagazines are online poetry magazines, usually in the form of a website. The internet has become a major source in the publishing of poetry. While there are many unmediated sites around, the following list is of Emagazines that follow an editorial policy that is similar to that of traditional printed poetry magazines. In some cases there will be both a printed and online version of the same magazine. It is advisable to read the submission guidelines for each site regarding layout and format of your work, before sending it to the E-Magazine.

Penniless Press has now gone online only.

Poetic Hours is an online magazine for amateur poets who want to see their work published to aid charity. It is based in England but has supporters all over the world. Enter the site to read the magazine and find out how to contribute.

Ancient Heart is based in Sydney – just to give an example of how the web has made publishing a global village. I’ve never tried it but here are the submission guidelines.

Leave a comment on the latest blog post/poem containing one poem, your pen name, home town, country and optional email address. In due course your poem may or may not appear on the blog/mag. I will not enter into any correspondence or acknowledge receipt of submissions or feel obliged to answer any other queries. I just want to get as many great poems as possible out there.

Competitions:
There are hundreds of competitions and too many to mention but try looking in the following places:

Kudos

Writing Magazine ( new subscriber’s comp and monthly competitions )

Womens Own

The Oldie

People’s Friend

New Statesman

Books
I’m not going to consider books. It is unlikely you will be considered for a book publication – especially now – until you have a substantial body of work behind you in national poetry magazines. Which I would estimate to be around 50/60 poems published in magazines which, as a guideline, are mentioned in the National Poetry Library or the Poetry Society lists. Unless you went to school/university with the publisher.

Conclusions
Read contemporary poetry

Write

Keep submitting

Get used to being rejected – easier said than done.

Read the guidelines

Go on a writing course – the best are run by the Arvon Foundation. You’ll get feedback from skilled poets and make lots of contacts and have a great time. £450 but you might be ok for grant.

And remember Write!

Thankyou Terry Quinn for the talk you did and for allowing me to put this on the website. I hope it is as helpful to you all as to me.

Getting Published - Part 2

2011-03-30T01:55:00.000-07:00

Part 2 of the talk given by Terry Quinn

Pointers about Submitting

Where and how

You can be published in a range of places including: Poetry Magazines/Parish magazines/neighbourhood magazines/emagazines/vanity press ( not just books but anthologies)/competitions/local publishers like Universities e.g. Ceth Anthology/Litfest, Word Soup do an Anthology. (Editor: Poetry magazines website maybe of some use)

Magazines:

Read the style of the magazine/comps/know the name of the editor. I once called the editor of a magazine Pat instead of Patricia and got a stinging letter back.

Length of the poem:

Depends on the magazine but if an editor has 500 poems and has room to print 50 then short is better. There are Magazines dedicated to long poems.

Subject:

A vast majority of submitted poems are about love/death – so they have to be exceptional to catch the eye of an editor.

Country:

The Internet has greatly expanded the market for getting your work published. Web sites like the Poetry Kit will list magazines in countries such as America and Australia.

Do not....

Do not Write an intro telling the Editor that they have the first chance to take these poems

Do not give life story

Do not say your friends and family think the poems are wonderful

Do not write back to editors pointing out their mistakes

Records

Do keep records or a database to keep track of where you have sent poems. You may think you will never forget that acceptance from your favourite magazine. You will. If you’re juggling with anything over 50 poems ( my guess ) then you will mix up dates and where you have sent them. I’ve come across a database called Duotrope , it’s available from the internet. I use Access to keep mine up to date. (Editor: of course there is also Open Office available which is free)

Presentation

Presentation of your poems is of major importance, and it is advised that you spend some time doing this. The following points, although not true for every magazine, are intended as general guidelines you should check before submitting your work:

• Make sure that your poems are typewritten on a separate sheet and that they look clean and presentable

• Do not send more than six poems unless the publication asks you to do this

• Include a short and polite covering letter to the editor

• Always be sure to send a stamped addressed envelope with your poems, for the editor/s to make their reply

• Always keep your own copies of poems in case the ones you send go missing

• It is usual to have to wait for a period of time to get a response.
Depending on the magazine, the Editor/s may be inundated with submissions and need time to get through this

• It is unlikely that you will be paid in money for having your poems published, but it is usual to at least receive a free copy of the magazine. It is not usual to have to pay yourself to have your work published

• Do not use Jazzy fonts

• Do not indiscriminately centre-justifie poems

• Do not send simultaneous entries

• Check restrictions on line length

• Check whether your name needs to be on each sheet

• Email – check whether the poem needs to be in the body of the email or as an attachment

Part 3 next week about specific poetry magazines

Getting Published - Part 1

2011-03-23T04:00:00.001-07:00

At the start of the year Terry Quinn gave a talk about Getting Published at one of the Poetry Society meetings. He has kindly sent me a copy so I can put it on the blog along with links etc, and so it will appear here over the next few weeks.

Introduction

In the Preston Arts Festival 2010 Alan Dent gave a publisher’s view of receiving submissions for publication. These notes are written from the viewpoint of the poet thinking of submitting work.

1). Read contemporary poetry – it’s no good submitting rhyming poetry about flowers in the park to an experimental poetry magazine.

2). Buy poetry magazines or get your library to subscribe or get an idea of the content from the internet.

3). Read magazines like Writing Magazine

4). The National Poetry Library ( Morpeth and National on the South Bank, Scottish in Edinburgh and Welsh in Aberystwyth ) are interesting to visit and are in wonderful places. (Note by Editor :Also poetryireland maybe of interest for ROI and NI)

The Bad News

Acceptance to rejection of 1 in 10 is a good ratio

The Good News is that there are hundreds of ways to get published – it just depends what you want.

So what do you want from being Published?
Tim Love writes ( check his website it’s very good ):

Money - Unless you regularly write articles, you won't get much, but it's nice to get paid for something you enjoy doing (especially if you get paid £20 for a haiku). I still treasure the £1 cheque I once got from the BBC.

• Fame - It's easy to be a big fish in the little pool of poetry or short stories

• Participation - Ever read something and thought "I could have done that"? Going from being a reader to a writer is a big leap, one you've already made. The next step is to become part of the writing community. It's a big step, like progressing from taking music lessons to becoming a public "performer". By going to workshops and sharing your work you're already well on the way to being a public performer. Now it's time to take the next step and get published.

• Improving your writing - Even if you're just writing for your own enjoyment, getting published can help. Writing without publishing is a bit like talking to yourself.

o Angela Carter thought the writing process incomplete until the piece was published.

o Poet Don Paterson wrote that "the poem begins with inspiration and ends in publication, not just completion"

o Jane Holland (poet and editor) wrote in April 2008 that "people learn most about writing poetry from actually seeing their work in print. ... Contrary to popular belief, new writers don't learn as much from sitting in workshops ... To see a new poem in print is the best way to learn, because you are far more likely to spot your mistakes once a poem is set against others in a public context, and suddenly realise how to fix them"

• Because if you don't, others worse than you will!

(You can continune reading Tim's article here)

To Tim nowadays publication is an integral part of the writing process. The only unpublishable pieces are those that aren't good enough - though some are harder to publish than others

Define for whom you are writing.

Is it your religion?
For people at work?
Family?
The World?

(editor: An important thought. As stated at the start of this article "it’s no good /em> submitting rhyming poetry about flowers in the park to an experimental poetry magazine").

So here feels a good place to end Part 1. A breather so you can think about why you would want to be published and who for. Part 2 (next week) continues with pointers about submitting

Happy World Poetry Day!

2011-03-21T09:30:00.001-07:00

A good time to read and write :)
Anyone can write (or read :)) a poem... in fact it seems your browser can too! There is a (BBC) Dylan Thomas random poem generator . Ok maybe it isn't really the browser...

Anyway if you want to read a poem from in English and German that I have put on my other blog especially for World Poetry Day then you can follow this link.

Winter Newsletter

2011-01-19T08:08:00.000-08:00

The latest copy of the newsletter is now available. You can find it on the right hand side or by clicking on this link. You will also notice that the calendar for 2011 has now been published, showing the line up for the year.

Estonia #20

2011-01-01T02:28:00.000-08:00

A Poet's dream is impossible
the dream
the ultimate task

to describe something
so perfectly
precise

but yet never achieving

it's like writing about
the snow
every word
every letter
is a step away from that blank page across
the landscape

by ian (train from Rakke)

photo by Ian in Tartu Toomemägi 2010

Finland #16

2010-12-12T02:29:00.000-08:00

I struggled through
the deep snow
with more following fast

i struggled through
the bitter cold and
with more following fast

I struggled through
hunger and tiredenss
with more following fast

eventually arrived at Walhalla
and what's this to say about my journey
it was closed!

poem and photo by Ian

Many a Bright Star

2010-11-10T04:34:00.000-08:00

Another one of our Poets, Paul Wilkins, has produced a book of his poems: "Many a Bright Star". This is a collection of his poems that include poems that he has written for special occasions. I will let Paul explain more:
"Hi to all you great poetry book readers; here is a book with a difference – profile poems of famous people. I started doing poems of famous people and have kept an eye out for any special occasion these people have had to mark with a special profile-like poem and have done many over the years. I have sent each of them a copy of what I did for them and all who replied expressed pleasure at what they read. Enjoy reading the large selection in this book."

For more details you can find his website here, some of the replies he has had here and the link to the book here

Preston Poets Calendar 2011

2010-11-04T09:00:00.000-07:00

The Society has created a lovely appointment style calendar for 2011. It contains gorgeous photos from blankets of snow to deer and lovely countryside. Every photo is accompanied with a couple of lines of poetry, all created by the Society members.

It is a calendar that I am sure that can be enjoyed by all!

For only £3.

It can be bought at the Preston Tourist Information Centre and at the Harris Museum. Otherwise please ask a Society Member or email vsmith@pagehall.idps.co.uk .

Iceland #16

2010-11-04T02:26:00.001-07:00

like saving an ice cube
in the sun

youth and beauty
may melt away

but the important part remains
like the life giving water

photo and poem by Ian

Star Haiku

2010-09-30T04:31:00.000-07:00

If you concentrate
the dark sky will show Venus
and two shiny stars

by Ian F
written in a tent in Iceland

Rimbaud's poetry - revisit

2010-09-21T04:34:00.000-07:00

A little revisit to a poet that Vincent chose to speak about. We have had a comment sent to us which may be of interest as it includes another translation of the poem Vowels.....

George Dance said...
I've written my own translation of Rimbaud's "Vowels", which IMO compares favourably to the others extant, Allow me to give your readers a link.

http://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2010/03/vowels-voyelles-arthur-rimbaud.html

Estonia Poetry revisit

2010-09-14T04:26:00.001-07:00

Just to follow on from Ian's speech on Estonian poet Gustav Suits here is a small article on the poem on the Independance Monument in Tallinn.

The Poem on Eesti Vabadussammas
The poem in full can be found here ,but only...

The first part of the poem on the monument :

Tõsta lipp! Las aja käänul
lehvib tõotus tuulte väänul
üle mandri, üle vee:
tund on tulnud vannet vandu,
ei iial enam andu
ikke alla rahvas see!

quite untranslatable
word by word.

the main idea
that this (see)
nation (rahvas)
will vow
(in the poem 'tund (the hour)
on tulnud (has come)
vannet (the oath in 3rd form)
vandu (to vow)')
never (iial)
to be occupied
by anyone
any more
('andu ikke alla'
- really old
and poetic
way to say
'not be occupied').

Thank you to Katrin for this and her blog and more poems and such like can be found here

Terry Quinn's New Poetry Collection

2010-07-22T04:30:00.000-07:00

Our different members have had poems published in various magazines recently (details can be seen in the downloadable newsletter). Terry is one of them and has followed this with a publication of his own: "Away".

Barbara Dordi of Equinox describes this colletion:

"Terry Quinn’s poetry is accessible, not mystified; he has the knack of using everyday language which marries well with the often ‘ordinary’ subject matter. But his poems invariably have a subtext which belies the surface subject matter – an unexpectedness – both pleasing and intriguing, which has become the hallmark of his poetry".

And in his foreword to the book Terry writes :

"Much to my surprise I’ve just discovered that very few poetry books contain a Foreword. So it’s a bit embarrassing in this first collection to have one. But read the first poem.

There’s three points I want to make:

1. Due to a lifelong addiction to the sports’ pages I tend to read poetry books from back to front. And that’s still possible in this case, however, the poems are arranged as a journey from Norway down the East coast of the UK, looping through Europe, up the West coast, Scotland and back.

2. Hence the title ‘Away’, though it’s not the only reason. There are no prizes for guessing that ‘Home’ and ‘Draw’ are in the pipeline. It’s time to get something out of the Pools.

3. Not so long ago I received a poem back with the comment that the poem was well liked but that the language was ‘too plain’. As I’d spent weeks, if not months, trying to achieve that very effect I didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. But it does highlight what I detest most about a strand of British poetry that seems to think that obscurity equals poetry. That doesn’t mean a poem shouldn’t have layers. But make them readable, as poetry, through all those layers.
"

If you are interested in buying this collection then please either email us or ask at the next meeting. And for a sample of his poetry you can find one at this link

Poets from around the World #4 - Gustav Suits (Võnnu, Estonia)

2010-07-12T12:49:00.000-07:00

Gustav Suits – Estonian Poet: Identity and Independence. by Ian Fairey

Gustav Suits was an Estonian poet born in 1883. He is considered to be one of the greatest poets of the country.

First I think I should explain the place he came from. Estonia is a country that lies south across the Baltic Sea from Finland. Finland is also considered to be one of the closest neighbours in consideration to the language. On the Eastern border of Estonia is Russia and on the south border is Latvia another Baltic state.
　
The Estonian landscape is very flat with the highest peak (Egg Hill) being around 318m, which is smaller then the size of Rivington Pike, Lancashire. The area of Estonia is about 45,000 Km2 which is bigger then the size of Wales, however its population is about 1.3 million people. This means there is a lot of room for nature and nature reserves including forests with wolves, bears , places to pick blueberries and hundreds of species of birds. As well as a lot of nature there is a room for a lot of little towns.
Gustav Suits was born to a village teacher in one of these tiny towns called Võnnu in the late 19th century. During this time Estonia was part of the Russian Empire, having in the past been ruled by countries such as Germany and Sweden. Twelve years later Suits moved to Tartu. Tartu is the second largest city in Estonia, smaller in population then Preston, Lancashire.

Suits had his first poem published when at the age of 16 and a couple of years later he was involved in a literature circle of school children. They were called The friends of Literature and included A.H. Tammsaare who would become, as some would see, Estonia’s greatest novelist.

Suits was then involved in with a group called Noor Eesti (which translated is Young Estonia). Young Estonia followed on from the national movement in the late 19th century in literature. (In the late 19th century Kalevipoeg the national epic was written, which was composed of various folktales of Estonia. This epic along with other poets and writers could be seen as a pre-cursor to Young Estonia.

Suits wrote the phrase in one of their publications saying “ Let us be Estonians, but also become Europeans”. Which may give an indication of the viewpoint of Estonians at the time.

Historians have varied views on Young Estonia group. Some say that is started a new Era in Estonian Literature, however others say that it just continued on what was started in the 19th Century. Anyway Young Estonia tried to extend literature influences to France and Nordic Countries. Although some people criticised the group for being alien, that they imitated other nations and other criticisms the group was essential in Estonian literature development.

After spending some time in Finland Suits was offered the position of Professor at the university in Tartu. This was in 1921 and just a few years into independence for Estonia. At the university there was some development in the fact that he was the first professor of literature to teach in Estonian, and his work as a scholar and professor as groundbreaking. He wrote papers on older Estonian work and made contacts and lectures through Europe.

However independence did not last long, only lasting 22 years from 1918. Estonia only seeing independance again in 1991. In 1941 Suits house was burnt down and his many scholarly papers were lost. He fled to Stockholm via Finland , along with many other Estonians. He did manage to continue his scholarly work and produce more poetry before he died in Stockholm, where he is now buried.

He is an important figure in Estonia and one of his poems is quoted on a monument for independance in Tallinn.

I have found two poems of Suits to try and show some of the themes I tried to pick out in my talk. His poetry had various themes including militant and romantic.
He had a collection of poems called Land of Winds. Some people suggest that this was his name for Estonia, others that it was about himself. The two poems I chose were "My Island" and "Under Quivering Aspens". Both of these can be found here to read along with two other poems.

I know I have said nothing new here but I hope this has inspired you to find out more!

There are plenty of resources out there on the background to the Russian Empire, Baltic Singing Revolutions, Estonia itself etc etc.
However you may struggle to find some information on Estonian Poetry. So here are some resources that I used for my talk:
Estonian Literary Magazine and Article on Gustav Suits
Wikipedia entry for Gustav
Suits

and of course my adventures in Estonia... which can be found on this Estonian/English Poetry and Creativity Blog

Poets from around the World #3 - Arthur Rimbaud (Charleville, France)

2010-06-15T13:18:00.000-07:00

Arthur Rimbaud by Vincent Smith

Arthur Rimbaud was born in Charleville in 1954. He was a prodigy but also a bit of a delinquent, rude and undisciplined. One of his teachers made a prophetic statement – “he is intelligent but has eyes and a smile I do not like … he will end badly. He will be the genius of good or evil”. As a teenager he ran away to Paris on several occasions and tried unsuccessfully to get his poems published. Later he thought of sending copies to the established poet Paul Verlaine, who invited him to come to Paris to stay with him and his family. However, Rimbaud was so dirty, unkempt and rude that he upset everybody and was ordered out of the house. Verlaine was so besotted with the young genius that he went with him and they spent a period living together and having a homosexual relationship. They went to London and worked as French teachers, but Verlaine wanted to end the affair and one evening after a drunken quarrel he produced a pistol and fired two shots at Rimbaud. He was arrested and although Rimbaud was not seriously hurt, was imprisoned for two years.

Rimbaud took up with another writer, Germain Nouveau and in 1874 went with him to London. But Nouveau saw the danger to his own reputation of being associated with Rimbaud and he quickly ended their relationship.

Rimbaud gave up his literary pretensions and spent the rest of his life wandering around Europe and farther afield, doing largely unsavoury jobs. He worked as a mercenary in Java and a gun runner in Ethiopia, where, under the cover of a legitimate business he was also involved in the slave trade. In 1891 he developed what was almost certainly bone cancer and had an unpleasant last few months. He had a leg amputated but the cancer spread rapidly and he died in late 1891 at the age of 37. All his poetry had been written before the age of 21, yet he had an important influence on the direction poetry was to take.

One of his most famous poems is about vowels, in which he assigns a different colour to each one. Much has been written trying to analyse the meaning, but Rimbaud himself said it had none, that he was just experimenting with ideas and sounds. Here it is in the original, followed by a literal translation.

Both the original French and the English versions can be found here

Poets from around the World #2 - Thomas Hardy (Dorset , England)

2010-06-15T12:52:00.000-07:00

We were also entertained with grand performances of poems. One of which was Thomas Hardy's The Ruined Maid. Unfortunately we have no recording of this but I have put some links below for you to look at.

The Ruined Maid by Thomas Hardy. Hardy was born in 1840 in Dorset and was a Novelist and poet. More information about him can be found here

Poets from around the World #1 - Edgar Allan Poe (Boston, US)

2010-06-08T19:33:00.000-07:00

Recently the Preston Poets were asked to give a talks on Poets of the World at the Brownedge Festival. This is the first of the poets for you to read about.

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) by Gwen Weiss

Edgar Allan Poe was born in Massachusetts USA on 19th January 1809. He was the son of travelling actors David and Elizabeth Arnold Poe. His father, an alcoholic, deserted the family which included a brother and a sister, and his mother died when he was two years old, and Poe was fostered by a prosperous Scottish merchant, John Allan, in Richmond.

Allan always refused to adopt Poe which led to bad feeling between them. The family moved to Scotland for a time and also lived in England returning to America in 1820. He fell in love with Sarah Elmira Royston but lost touch with her when he was at university.

Despite considerable academic success, after one year at the University of Virginia, his gambling debts forced him to leave, and by 1827 Poe with typical restlessness had moved from Boston to Richmond and then back to Boston again. On learning that Sarah had married he joined the army by saying he was twenty two although he was only eighteen and gained a good reputation, which he joined in 1827, but spent a miserable year at the US Military academy at West Point in 1930 before being dishonourably discharged, which he had deliberately engineered and it was at this point John Allan washed his hands of him.

He stayed in Baltimore from 1831 – 35 and began writing more seriously, working as a journalist earning a bare minimum on which to survive and from 1835 he began to edit the Southern Literary Messenger, from which he was sacked for being drunk. He was involved with several magazines thereafter and in 1836 he secretly married his 13 year-old cousin Virginia, her age being recorded on the marriage certificate as twenty -one. He later married her again in a large public ceremony.

Around this time he turned to writing short stories which revealed a fascination with emotional extremes, particularly fear, though his essays show that he was capable of being objective and critical. His early fiction tales, starring the fictitious detective C. Auguste Dupin laid the groundwork for future detectives in literature and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said of his work that ‘ Each (of Poe’s detective stories) is a root from which a whole literature has developed…where was the detective story until Poe breathed the breath of life into it?’ The Mystery Writers of America have named their awards for excellence in the genre as ‘the Edgars.’

He was also admired by Jules Verne and H,G. Wells for his science fiction work.

In 1844 he moved to New York but despite popular acclaim his life was still wretched and remained poor. Virginia died of tuberculosis in 1847 and Poe, still poor and an alcoholic died in Baltimore two years later aged just forty.

As well as admirers, it seems that he also made enemies because after his death a long obituary in the New York Tribune, signed by a man using the pen name Ludwig, stated ‘ Edgar Allen Poe is dead…This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it.’. He was soon identified as a Rufus Wilmot Griswold, an editor, critic and anthologist who had borne a grudge against Poe since 1842, and he set out to destroy Poe’s reputation after his death. He wrote a biographical article ‘Memoir of an Author’ depicting Poe as a depraved , drunk, drug addled, madman and included letters purported to have been written by the author. This biography sold well but was denounced by people who knew the victim well, and was later proved to be made up of lies and the letters were forgeries.

Conversely his work was often criticised by such as Ralph Waldo Emmerson who said of his work ‘The Raven,’ a poem which made him a household name , “ I see nothing in it.”; Aldous Huxley wrote that Poe’s work ‘falls into vulgarity by being too poetical - the equivalent of wearing a diamond ring on every finger.’

Many of his poems are very long and personally I found them flowery and difficult to follow but I enjoyed his rather macabre short stories such as ‘Murder in the Rue Morgue,’ ‘The Pit and the Pendulum,’ and ‘The Purloined Letter, this last demonstrating his interest in ciphers.’

The Poem read on the evening was "To My Mother" and other poems can be found here along with more information here

2010-05-06T07:24:00.000-07:00

East End

Irresistible forces compel me to go
through the smoke-filled places I used to know,
from the bridge where the Don and the Rother meet
to the Wicker Arches and Saville Street.
The Gates to Hell as I used to think,
where hopes would be vanquished and hearts would sink
as the tram approached from the city side:
a monument now to Civic Pride.
The Gates to Hell, but no longer so,
for the smoking chimneys and furnace glow,
the iron and steel and the shunting tracks,
the cobbled yards and the back-to-backs
are vanished, and only the names remain
of Attercliffe Common and Brightside Lane,
Berkley and Belmoor and Carltonville,
the wreck of a foundry, the tomb of a mill,
in cairns of rubble awaiting the day
when even they will be carted away,
and who knows what shimmering phoenix may spring
from the ashes where so many yesterdays cling.
But pasts more than mine in the ashes are strewn,
where wealth came too late and destruction too soon,
and my gratitude falls and my garlands are laid
on the riches their decades of labour have made.

Why am I here?

2010-04-02T15:53:00.001-07:00

Why am I here
they keep asking me
and I have asked myself
so many times

And I have asked myself
in many places
looking in each corner for the truth
but if there was any it had seemingly gone

I once tried looking in Valhalla
but it was snowed up
and it was definately closed
what can that tell me about life?

Another time viewing beauty
in all the scenic landscapes
but the loveliness soon escaped me
fading like a dreamlike memory

And yet again trying to find "the zone" in cities
with the bustling busy backstreets
which are full of tourist facts and figures
the only meaning told through friendly faces

I thought maybe I was here to spend all my money
I tried that once
buying ice lollipops in the snow
but still hang onto 5 EEKs in my wallet

Maybe I am here to keep a promise
Something that would hold me duty bound
but even a this has no meaning
without a currency behind it

Finally it occured it was a subconcious thought
the mallard duck's wing flashing
its colours of here and now
but surely one would be foolish chasing birds?

So why am i here?

A friend asks just before I leave
If I had done everything I wanted
and Yes.

I saw you again.

by Ian (mallard in helsinki)

The Poets Laurete

2010-03-01T16:20:00.000-08:00

Twenty poets have held the post of Laureate
Since John Dryden was the first to have the honour
Bestowed way back in sixteen sixty eight
Thomas Shadwell came next, a political choice
Chosen to give the Protestants a voice.
Not much of a thought provoker
His work was mainly mediocre.
(not helped by the fact he was a prolific opium smoker)
Tate was next, he was fairly bright
Remembered mainly for his carol about ‘Shepherds watching
their flocks by night’.
With the arrival of Nicholas Rowe the post changed somehow
Less political now was the aim
More to raise the profile of the ruling sovereign
Laurence Eusden and Colly Cibber did the minimum required
At best it was said their work was uninspired
Whitehead, Wharton and Henry James Pye each graced the office
But sadly to say didn’t live up to their promise.
Robert Southey stepped in when Sir Walter Scott declined
And for thirty years did the job he was assigned
William Wordsworth the oldest accepted under duress
After all, at 73 he could do without the stress
Alfred Lord Tennyson, well what can you say,
His biggest success we still quote from today.
Hugely popular a great impact was made
Remember from school ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’
To Austin and Bridges we don’t give much thought
Nothing of significance to say or report.
John Masefield, now here’s an achiever
Mostly renowned for his popular ‘Sea Fever’
Cecil Day Lewis embraced the post and was quite enthusiastic
His works tended towards the melancholy or romantic.
Sir John Betjeman, accessible and humorous
His ‘Bombs on Slough’ appealed to the masses.
Ted Hughes, Yorkshire born, brooding, introspective
Often misunderstood, but generally respected.
Andrew Motion, first Poet Laureate to retire or be retired,
(not counting John Dryden who was fired)
Brought a breath of fresh air to a post he was unsure of at first
Forward thinking, promoted poetry among the young, tried to create a thirst.
Carol Ann Duffy, the first woman Poet Laureate in history, takes up the post
for ten years.
She’s claiming her sherry, so it’s bottoms up, cheers.
So folks, a new face – watch this space.
Joan Yates

Prince Charles Is Now 60

2010-02-22T16:16:00.000-08:00

Prince Charles has been around for a while
Bringing to many people in this country a smile
It’s his 60th birthday today
At which we all say hip hip hurray
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
He with the Princes Trust awards came out
Helping change young people’s lives no doubt
Also giving a lot of business and charity support
Showing to many a nice kind thought
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
Prince Charles loves time at the Highgrove home
Where he does farming, with others or on his own
He’s interested in Architecture too
As are also quite a few
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
From all of Prince Charles we have seen
He’s fully worthy of successing the Queen
But not knowing what the future has to tell
We’re still sure for him everything will go well
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
Paul Wilkins

Nobody Inn

2010-02-18T16:14:00.000-08:00

McDade Trophy First Place
I’m losing track of the times you’ve been
to study the Perpendicular screen
at quaint little Dunchidoke.
So I followed you down, as I’d secretly planned,
and now I’m beginning to understand,
for here you sit with the country folk
at the Nobody Inn, and I hope you choke
on your Winterman slims and your peppermint crush;
no wonder you fidget, no wonder you blush,
and shuffle about on your bar-stool perch,
for you never went anywhere near the church
at quaint little Dunchidoke.
And unless I’m mistaken, the tower I saw
when I glanced just now through the open door,
is elegant Doddiscombsleigh.
Famed for its fourteenth century glass,
which you’ll hardly match and you can’t surpass
in a British church, you keep telling me,
to excuse your visits, but now I see
that to learn its mystery your only hope
is a seat by the door and a telescope
on elegant Doddiscombsleigh.
Your subterfuge was a tour de force,
so I’m not in the least annoyed of course,
but in future, I’m coming too.
From humble churches we’ll shift our sights
to collegiate, cathedral and abbey heights,
but chosen to be, as your favourites are,
at their most impressive when viewed from afar,
or merely imagined, like Dunchidoke,
(assisted, it seems, by Bacardi and coke,
pommes frites in the basket and café noir,
with yellow Chartreuse and cigars from the bar.)
But I think that a four star (or five) accolade
would more properly fit with the status and grade
of cathedrals and abbeys, I know quite a few
with a splendid cuisine and an excellent view.
You’re flushed with excitement already, I see,
let’s map out tomorrow’s itinerary,
and I’ll show you what I can do.
7
Exeter – what better place to start,
splendidly Dec in its greater part,
as I think your Pevsner says.
We’ll start at two, for conveniently,
the Clarence Hotel does an afternoon tea
which lasts all day till aperitif time,
when we’ll sit in the bar with a gin and lime
and study the close with a reverent gaze,
admiring the Tudor and Georgian bays,
the iron bridge and the cobbled court,
unaltered in any material sort
since early Victorian days.
We’ll stay for dinner and when that’s done,
with coffee and cognac we’ll watch the sun
dipping below the trees,
and silhouetting the Norman towers –
we’ll order more cognac and sit for hours.
In plush red velvet we’ll take our ease
overlooking the close for as long as we please.
And perhaps we’ll book a room and stay,
and with morning tea at the break of day,
we’ll lie in bed with the curtain raised …
Are you feeling well? Your eyes have glazed,
and your colour has passed through red and green
and finished a sort of ultramarine –
of the kind you find on twenty pound notes.
Better pay the bill while I fetch our coats,
and we’ll get away from the fumes and smoke
and take a stroll down to Dunchidoke.
A hazy sun and a healthy breeze
will clear your head, but one moment please –
I think I could manage before we go,
a gin and Italian, Blackforest gateau,
and a little more Camembert cheese.
Vincent Smith

Mother

2010-02-16T16:13:00.000-08:00

McDade Trophy 2nd Place

The shock when you said,
at fifteen, ‘Sit down,
I’m pregnant, it’s ok;
the arrangements are made;
don’t tell Dad.’
Those long nights awake,
adjusting, then watching
your schoolgirl frame grow tired;
I wrote deceitful notes
to your teacher
to excuse you from dance,
waited in terrified secrecy
for the clinic,
cash payment, and overnight stop,
your first stay away from us.
While the world turned, as it does,
the boyfriend moved on,
and after a time, so did you.
I began to count time,
guilt rising in my gut,
imagining ‘it’ now at 2, 6 and 10,
wondering how our lives might have been.
Fifteen years on
you’re accomplished,
a joy, a dancer, a beauty
with a husband who loves you.
But the pain when
your babies, in quick succession,
abort themselves,
1, 2, 3, 4,
leave us flailing,
our empty wombs wailing,
our mothers’ arms heavy
with wanting.
I see them, you know;
they hang from your skirt,
your coat sleeves,
the ends of your long blond hair.
Your children,
they call you by name.
Dorothy Nelson

The Legend of Chalky the Painter

2010-02-15T16:11:00.000-08:00

McDade Trophy 3rd Place

He was a painter and decorator, Chalky White,
But his mission lay elsewhere.
In his paint-splattered smock and ratting cap
He spent his days in a snooker shack
Potting balls with assiduous care.
Chalky was tall, energetic with a dark mop of hair,
Nothing that shouted ‘good at the game’.
He’d arrive in the morning with a bob or two
To draw the unwary passing through
Into a friendly ‘low-risk’ frame.
He was no professional, no great hustling man,
More a whirl than a whirlwind in fact,
But his aim was good when the chips were down,
He’d sink a long red and make it count
On pay days when tenners were stacked.
He’d lose the first frame, but the next was backed double,
And he’d raise his game a notch.
A fiver became ten, then twenty or more,
The locals would gather round the floor
And Chalky cleared up while they watched.
There were two flies in the ointment that spoilt this script,
The first was Harry the Snout,
A prison warder from Cardiff Bay
He ground down opponents with his safety play,
Picked up points after they’d hit out.
The first time they met, Chalky gave best to the Snout.
A red was loose near the pack,
But the gap was as tight as a mortise lock
When he chalked his tip with his trusty block,
Sighted low with stun for the black.
The red span round the pocket but stayed out the crack,
Chalky knew he’d made a mistake,
Not fatal, he thought, it was early days –
Lots of players had devious ways –
But the Snout made a frame-winning break.
Next time he played Harry, he was more circumspect,
Potted balls with safety in mind,
The result was a rack that lasted an hour,
Equal they were, and equally dour,
Snooker worriers, two of a kind.
The painter won that game, the warder the next two,
But the hours and days passed by.
The length of the frames led to Chalky’s fall,
His bread and butter work went to the wall
And Rose White wanted to know why.
10
To the hall of green baize stormed Rose, her temper inflamed,
Chalky had missed five jobs or more.
She was a big woman, Rose, with arms like hams,
Legs like young oaks from pushing prams.
What followed went down into lore.
‘Where’s our Chalky! Where’s our Chalky!’ Twice Rose called,
A giant figure framed in the door.
The ball clicking stopped, cues clunked on the baize,
No-one had seen such an angry gaze,
Chalky ducked, lay prone on the floor.
Rose’s nose twitched like a hound as she looked down the hall,
Took three giant steps inside,
She was on the scent, a whiff of emulsion,
Turpentine, primer, his old caulking gun!
There was no place for Chalky to hide!
‘Where’s our Chalky!’ she growled, menace in every word.
Legends are made of flimsy lore,
But the painter’s escape was pure Robin Hood:
Errol Flynn’s exploits weren’t half as good
As Chalky White’s run from that hall.
He saw Rose’s big toe just two tables away,
Then to his great horror, her face.
Words were not spoken, it was an action scene.
He rose up; his wife did the same.
The mind of the quarry raced.
He looked to the left, the right, beyond and behind.
There was no route out but the door.
Rose edged to the side. ‘You lying crook!’
Chalky’s hand reached down for the hook
That supported the extension cue,
Came up with the pole like a Waterloo lancer,
Took ten steps back to the wall
Then charged full tilt, planted the thick butt end,
Vaulted the table end to end,
Landed on the next, among balls.
Running light-footed over the lamp-lit baize
He leapt from table to table.
Like a fire dancer on stepping stones,
Fred Astaire could not have crossed those zones
Faster than Chalky the Painter.
He didn’t pause at the door, went out like an eel,
Rose followed like a fast moving barge,
But her man was already down the stairs.
‘Come back, Chalky!’ It froze the hairs
On bald men’s heads, but he’d charged
Like El Cid into the sunset, on, on, out of sight,
The legendary vaulter, Chalky White.
Martin Domleo

Jackie

2010-02-15T16:07:00.000-08:00

Jackie Hayes 1936-2009

I see her clearly
In the Secretary’s chair.
She has been
Through the minutes
With her usual quiet dignity
(No rowdy comments
From the floor
At this Society’s meetings).
She reminds us
That it is to be an evening
Of members’ poems.
We are seated in a three-
Quarter circle,
Faces lifted, attentive.
Jackie reads ‘Slow Dusk Fading’,
Perfect diction
For a perfect poem
And quietly, so quietly;
Unbullied we listen.
She sweetens the words
With tincture of honey.
The fit is perfect,
Polished and even
Like the granite blocks
Of the ancients.
Past the last word we listen
Into silence
Into warm and distant echoes.
Jackie could bring a stone to faith.

Martin Domleo

Winter Newsletter Online

2010-02-10T15:48:00.000-08:00

You can now view the Winter Newsletter Online. This features all the news articles. The poetry will feature on this site as indiviual articles.

Click to launch the full edition in a new window

X-ennials

2009-11-25T13:26:00.000-08:00

When, long ago, my friends and I decided
to time the world x-ennially, my hands
gave me the idea - a symbol for each one.
Now, two hundred and fifty octennia later,
I feel I am completely vindicated.

One friend was more astute and went for fingers,
but chose to use one of his hands to count.
Five symbols gave him sixteen celebrations.
But the system failed nomenclatively -
centenivigintiquinquennium
seemed a little, well - extravagant.

Our cleverest friend counted with his eyes,
and had five fingers on each hand to play with.
But perhaps he wasn’t clever after all:
two thousand years - and only two birthdays!

Act of Faith

2009-11-16T12:06:00.001-08:00

Minds accumulate their own stores of belief
Harvesting words
To squeeze dry in the press
Crushing
The kernel of hypothesis
To dress the salad of their joy or grief
And strange
The extreme unctions that accrue
The charms embraced
The flaring phlogiston of the untenable
The slick fiction
The wilful self-deception
The skewed view
Perhaps at times these drizzlings serve us well
Inspiring us
To think and act with grace
Reminding mortals to beware of vice
Or prompting oddness
Quaint and fanciful
But rancid oil embitters and pollutes
And hatred can ignite
Once holy balm
Releasing hellish fury like napalm
To raze
What it dogmatically refutes
For each established 'truth'
That we believe
Shouts crude anathema to other minds
Grant us the inner process that refines
The oils that we inherit and bequeathe

by Mike Ellwood

My Story

2009-11-07T15:05:00.000-08:00

I know this isn't poetry but may be of interest. The BBC are running a competition to tell your own (true) story. I think you can write it in any style so you could write it in a poetic fashion. I am planning to enter about a story from this year. Details are available here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/mystory/

Winners get to be on a TV programme and publishing contracts etc.

Next Meeting

2009-11-02T14:00:00.001-08:00

The next meeting is on 5th November and will include a poets' project with a theme of Poems of the Sea. Each member will be invited to have a short slot to read a poem relating to the sea and to make comments on the poem and/or the poet.

Wildlife Poetry

2009-11-02T13:59:00.001-08:00

On 16th November the Preston Bird-Watching and Natural History Society have guest speaker Carole Thistlethwaite, a poet from Euxton. She will be reading some of her wildlife-inspired poems and illustrating with digitally projected images. The meeting is at St Mary's, Cop Lane, Penwortham at 7.30pm.

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

2009-11-01T15:26:00.000-08:00

201’s ajar, a slant of light:
the eye of a nightmare.
Giant sunflower broken
on the landing;
petals on the stairs.
Children traumatized:
8-year-old Mary
corkscrew golden hair,
torn dress; yellow
petal in hand -
leaning by the door:
washed out, blood drained.

Jane 7, ripped skirt;
hair rippling upwards:
no apples in the cheek -
just a face of grief.
The sunflower a crucified
Christ cut down from heaven.

Someone’s dying out
of frame in room 209.
In 207 a raven’s pecked
out teddy’s brown eyes.
Outside a snowstorm;
and the virgins are the
bone-chimes of tomorrow

by Peter Lewin