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| 14th August 2016
BRENDAN CLEARY – ONE OF UK'S MOST INTUITIVE POETS & 'FOUND POETRY' July's Write Angle was different from most. It followed a very successful day of poetry writing in a workshop run by Jenny Lewis. It turned out a success, with 15 people attending. Many new ideas came up, such as 'found' poetry. Other than saying it's like a 'collage of words' that come from books, adverts, anything you can think of...those who originally rejected the idea as 'stealing' ended up being quite pleased with the results of their effort! Poems were made from maths books, photography...you name it. Even first words of different sentences were used! Credit to Jenny for keeping everyone 'awake' and enthusiastic for such a long day, and it extended into the evening where the 'poets' had the opportunity of performing alongside Brendan Cleary. Only Brendan Cleary could wake up '…. in Czechoslovakia in the peaceful suburb of Prague with a splitting head from too much 80% vodka and now not only talk the language, have a beautiful Czech wife, 3 handsome healthy children (whose names escape him), read Kafka in the original and a pocket sized Philip Marlowe in the Czech translation.. ' ...and so his performance began. He's also 'probably the only person in the entire hemisphere who doesn't know anyone named Steve;.. nobody leans across in trains and says 'heard anything from old Steve' or 'Where are you and big Steve off to on the weekend?' Steve doesn't send letters from Southampton...Doesn't ever stop by for a smoke In the afternoon - all done in his wonderful Irish Brogue that brings each word to life – both gently yet with a fierceness. What he feels, you feel. He takes you with him, as he moves from one space to another. 'Everyone has a hero or heroine'. Brendan celebrated Kylie Minogue in a love poem, 'Kyle, be mine. You're such wild fire and magic..Your dance steps send me all to glee...you'll never cuddle up to me. You touch me in places I've touched myself… On a more serious note, poems from a collection he'd written in 2013 dedicated to his brother Martin who passed away in 2007. His anguish was evident, ('it took me a long time to be able to write these') as he read, 'Feb afternoon. 'I'm clearing out your stuff. Loading your socks and wackers, your tee shirts…. and jeans….into bin bags for Oxfam.. Your complete set of the Vietnam socks I threw into the wheely bin but I'll keep your albums…your Manchester United posters... I'll keep your albums in magnifience nick. I stacked them on the sofa where you won't sit anymore….and some things I'll give to Keith (Keith Robert Gillespie, retired Northern Irish professional footballer (?)). Brendan's family received a telegram from Alex Ferguson, but 'it meant nothing as our family wanted Martin back'. Memories of when Martin accidentally killed his friend's cat, and then went missing. Brendan would 'like to think that poetry could bring back the dead. ' Going from poem to poem, such as, 'Every Sunday, I play Nina Simone's 'My Baby just cares for me'. You spring out from the bar and we dance around the bar. We even waltz by the beer garden and for a few precious minutes, everybody just smiles, or 'on your rooftop, smoking weed, and you told me I was the same age as your dad and he looked much better so I decided not to pursue ….or you for that matter', and 'It was probably a Tuesday when I tied you up because you wanted me to. I had a silk scarf. It did for a blind fold. And later we had pizza... or I think it was pizza'. Then, 'If I could go back, it would be '72 when Jim Henry harried me because I snogged Sharon McBride…' Brendan has a rare charm – you can feel his mind is a collection of his work. It's no wonder he's known as 'One of UK's most intuitive poets'. The poet and the man are one! Sheer genius! Meantime, Steve Scholey, from the poetry workshop, put together a 'found poem' though he said at first he didn't like the idea. 'surgeons achieve precise deletions cutting pathways they coudn't otherwise cure. Specifically remove the memory of ….' Margot Meyers, another workshop poet, did, 'As My wife arranges the lilacs in a glass, nothing in all the vastness of life hides summer but the trembling, ...we read the letters of the dead like puzzles of god'. She then did her own, '..I suppose if it was going to happen, it was going to happen on llangollen bridge. I see my double'. Catherine Faulds, workshop poet, wrote for 'the centennary of John Cage, composer, referring to his famous 4 minutes silence ..'but what about the noise of crumpling paper...telling time, confounding critics, ….into body music to match John's body ... Colin Eveleigh, a 'regular' attending his first poetry wkshp ever, called it 'a brilliant workshop' 'He read of a little boy at school with a green glass Eye' which kept falling out. His own eyesight is good, he said, but he wants it better. Then, compared it with how he wonders if his life expectations are too high. Is he asking too much? Richard Hawtree wrote a poem for a sick friend, 'On the way through the hall, you turn back to the rosary beads, not out of piety but.. because you love beads….your hands are those of a mathematician working an abacus….Determining the shape of things unseen. And confident that even if the stars fall on their courses, your love beads will store that gathered corvus in a blue monstrous orb - or stir the hanging baskets circling your windows.' Bruce Parry's holiday in South Wales, took him along the Dylan Thomas route, finding it very inspiring. On a different note, he read 'Charity Shop Ghosts', describing all the contents ..wanting to be seen again...loved again. Looking at Charity shops in the context of small museums, so many stories are told...come in come in We can show you the past, the present and your future.' Rodney Wood, poet, then told how he'd been practising voice articulation and emphasis up until showtime, which turned out to be an empty room. He had only reached the end of the first line...when the second reader, a young guy, took over and the crowd appeared. ….It was over but at least he had learned how to articulate and emphasise. He then read of having to be David Roberts read of love fading'. It's funny how love fades as you start to get older. I'm looking at your sagging bottom... with a growing of time and the parting of the seasons, then love begins to fall just as the seasons begin to fade'. Then, 'The Last Supper'. About two lovers gazing at each other across the table. Will they ever meet again?…. an atmosphere of pain and fear of rejection at the last supper. ' Finally, 'Jess, the dancer' ….she takes you to another place. Jilly Funnell played guitar and sang about a woman born in 1873 who had the 'original' toyboy. She supported artists, poets and fell in love with a very young man. She sang 'My boy was young, bright as the sun...my precious one...but fate had its way. Now I am alone...Then, using two accents, American country and 'proper' English, she did, 'Everyday starts with the tick of the clock… about a woman who lost someone she really loved, and thinking about wanting to go back, but realising it would be wrong. 'But she's strong and 'won't ever give up! Jake read about a thieving bastard who had one redeeming feature. He spoke in verse. They set a trap and caught him. Hung him from a 'poet tree'. Jenny Lewis recited from her two year project 'Writing Mesapotamia' , which she's working on with the Iraqi poet, Adnan al-Sayegh. It started in the Ashmera museum in front of the Asyrian carving that inspired it: 'Read our footprints on the long road out of Babylon. They'll tell you How the river stops and the fish became tin. How the air had a taste of marble and our lungs fought breath as they turned to stone. How our souls disappear into the shadows of dates of palms. Still we journey... Flying between continents - between airports. Each new city that's our providence….. Still the mother and child leaving their country forever. (Lovely poem). Jenny will be reading with Adnan in February. Jezz at the mic, then said, 'Starts in E major. That's about all I know about it', he said, then proceeded to play a happy song, 'if you love me…' in his lovely gentle and emotional way – that one never tires of. Then, 'Think you're very clever, don't you, boy'… All in all, a great evening! Brendan was super and the poets very good. It was a hard evening following a long day – but we made it! The raffle for two free meals for Tai Tong, our local Chinese (excellent food) was won by one very happy Chinese food loving enthusiast! We look forward to Speech Painter in our August Write Angle! Hope you can all make it!
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