The Poetry Exchange: Recent Episodes
The Poetry Exchange
The Poetry Exchange talks to people about the poem that has been a friend to them.
In each episode you will hear a guest talking about their chosen poem and the part it has played in their life, as well as the recording of the poem that we make as a gift for them.
Our podcast features conversations with people from all walks of life, as well a range of special guests.
Join us to discover the power of poetry in people's lives.
Silver Award Winner for Most Original Podcast at the British Podcast Awards 2018.
Hello and welcome again to The Poetry Exchange!
We're so pleased to be back with you sharing more stories of connection between people and poems in their lives.
This month we have something very special to share with you: a live recording of our event at Latitude Festival in July 2025, celebrating Poems as Friends: The Poetry Exchange 10th Anniversary Anthology.
This was our third visit to Latitude Festival in Suffolk over the years, and it was incredibly special to be there with our anthology of Poems as Friends.
Michael Shaeffer hosts the event, along with our brilliant guests, poet Roy McFarlane and writer, artist and facilitator Hannah Jane Walker. Together, they read some of the stories and poems held in the pages of The Poetry Exchange Anthology, sharing these with a tent full of people at Latitude Festival 2025!
Massive thanks to Latitude Festival for hosting us and providing this recording, and to everyone who joined us on the day.
Poems as Friends: The Poetry Exchange 10th Anniversary Anthology is published by Quercus Editions and is available now widely in bookshops and online: www.thepoetryexchange.co.uk/anthology
Latitude Festival takes place this year on 23-26 July at Henham Park in Suffolk, UK.
We will be back with more conversations in our latest mini-series of 'Poems with Friends' in September...
With love,
John & The Poetry Exchange
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Hello friends
Welcome back for another episode in this 'mini-series' of The Poetry Exchange podcast - Poems with Friends.
In Poems with Friends, our producer John Prebble speaks with some of the amazing friends he has made through The Poetry Exchange over the last 12 years, inviting them to bring along a poem that's keeping them company at this time.
It's a way of catching up and spending some quality time with friends - over a poem, of course!
In this episode, John speaks with his great friend and co-producer of The Poetry Exchange, Sally Anglesea. Sally worked with Fiona, Michael and John on The Poetry Exchange from the project's very earliest years, nurturing Fiona's gorgeous idea of Poems as Friends into a wide range of experiences for people to enjoy. Sally, Fiona, Michael and John became a very close band of friends and colleagues, and Sally continues to deeply involved and right at the heart of The Poetry Exchange to this day.
Sally talks with John about a poem that has been a friend to her for many years, since she met it through The Poetry Exchange: 'Wild Geese' by Mary Oliver.
Thank you for listening,
John and The Poetry Exchange x
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Welcome back to The Poetry Exchange!
It's very special to be here with you all again.
We're excited to be returning with something a bit different...a 'mini-series' of conversations over the coming months, which we're calling 'Poems with Friends.'
In 'Poems with Friends', our Producer John Prebble catches up with some of the great friends he's made through working on The Poetry Exchange over the last 12 years. He invites each of his friends to speak with him 1:2:1 about a poem that's keeping them company at this time...a poem that's resonating for them and speaking to them now in some way. Together, they read the poem and have a conversation about it, as well as catching up and enjoying some quality time together!
In this first episode of 'Poems with Friends', John speaks with the brilliant Alison McManus. Alison has been a massive friend to and champion of The Poetry Exchange for many years, since she first walked into a chapel in Durham to talk about the poem that's been a friend to her with Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer. Alison went on to become Chair of The Poetry Exchange as a small charity, and has been a vital part of our work and a great friend to so many of us over the years.
In this conversation, Alison catches up with John and talks with him about a poem that's keeping her company at this time: 'The Tyger' by William Blake.
We are looking forward to sharing more conversations in this 'mini-series' of Poems with Friends with you soon.
Thank you for listening,
John and The Poetry Exchange x
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Friends - it is our 100th episode!
We are so pleased to be here with you, sharing, listening, celebrating.
We have a very special conversation to mark the occasion: our very own Michael Shaeffer, host of The Poetry Exchange, talks about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'Having a Coke with You' by Frank O'Hara.
10 years...100 episodes...countless more poems, stories, converastions...and now Michael shares his story of connection with O'Hara's gorgeous poem.
We're thrilled and immensely grateful to Michael for sitting 'in the other chair' for this one, and sharing the story of his friendship so openly. You'll hear Michael in conversation with Roy McFarlane and Andrea Witzke Slot.
Our thanks to the Alfred A. Knopf and the Frank O'Hara estate for allowing us to share the poem with you, and to the South London Gallery for hosting the conversation.
Michael talks about his appearance in the re-staging of London Road at the National Theatre, which runs 7th - 21st June. Get your tickets while you can if you're in or around London during this time!
As Michael says in this episode, we will be taking a pause from the podcast for a while after this episode, having reached this extraordinary milestone. Michael will also be stepping back from hosting at this point, having co-hosted The Poetry Exchange with Fiona since the very beginning.
What an enormous journey it has been for Michael, for us all, and we are so grateful for all your friendship and support along the way.
The Poetry Exchange is continuing, and for now we will be focussing on some new collaborations that create live, intimate encounters between people and poems....something that has always been at the heart of The Poetry Exchange.
Keep in touch with us to find out more about as these new adventures as they unfold, including ways of being involved. You can sign up to our mailing list at www.thepoetryexchange.co.uk, follow us on Instagram @PoetryExch, or drop us a line any time on hello@thepoetryexchange.co.uk.
For now, thank you so much for being with us over the years...for all your love, support and companionship. Here's to living life filled with poems as friends.
Thank you for listening,
Michael, John and The Poetry Exchange Xx
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In this episode we talk with writer and academic Serena Trowbridge about the poem that's been a friend to her: 'A Shropshire Lad 31: On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble' by A.E. Housman.
This conversation was recorded in April 2022 at the Birmingham & Midland Institute. It is very special to listen back to this converation now, particularly to hear Fiona with all her usual passion and insights in conversation with Serena.
Dr Serena Trowbridge is a writer and academic specialising in Pre-Raphaelitism in art and literature. She is Reader in Victorian Literature at Birmingham City University.
Serena is Vice-President and Chair of the Pre-Raphaelite Society, and Senior Vice-President at the Birmingham & Midland Institute. You can find her thoughts on art and literature on Substack.
Huge thanks to Serena for joining us for this conversation and allowing us to share it with you.
We are so grateful to you all for listening and for all your continuous support of The Poetry Exchange. This is episode 99 and we are looking forward to sharing our special 100th episode with you soon.
With love,
Michael, John and The Poetry Exchange
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In this episode of The Poetry Exchange, poet Nick Makoha talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'White Egrets (I)' by Derek Walcott.
Nick actually joined us back in 2017 at Pushkin House, London, and we are delighted to be sharing this conversation with you now. It is very special to hear Fiona in this conversation, with all her usual warmth and brilliance.
Nick Makoha's latest collection 'The New Carthaginians' is published this month from Allen Lane - you can order/buy your copy here.
The event for 'On the Brink of Touch' by Fiona Bennett is on 26th February at The Bedford in Balham, London, and live streamed. We'd love for you to join us, and you can book your places here!
Dr Nick Makoha is a Ugandan poet. His new collection is The New Carthaginians published by Penguin UK. Winner of the 2021 Ivan Juritz Prize and the Poetry London Prize. In 2017, Nick’s debut collection, Kingdom of Gravity, was shortlisted for the Felix Dennis Prize for Best First Collection and was one of the Guardian’s best books of the year. He was the ICA 2023 Writer-in-Residence. He was the 2019 Writer-in-Residence for The Wordsworth Trust and Wasafiri. A Cave Canem Graduate Fellow and Complete Works alumnus. He won the 2015 Brunel African Poetry Prize and the 2016 Toi Derricotte & Cornelius Eady Prize for his pamphlet Resurrection Man. His play The Dark—produced by Fuel Theatre and directed by JMK award-winner Roy Alexander—was on a national tour in 2019. It was shortlisted for the 2019 Alfred Fagon Award and won the 2021 Columbia International Play Reading prize. His poems have appeared in the Cambridge Review, the New York Times, Poetry Review, Poetry Wales, Rialto, Poetry London, TriQuarterly Review, 5 Dials, Boston Review, Callaloo Birmingham Lit Journal and Wasafiri.
White Egrets
By Derek Walcott
I
The chessmen are as rigid on their chessboard
as those life-sized terra-cotta warriors whose vows
to their emperor with bridle, shield and sword
were sworn by a chorus that has lost its voice;
no echo in that astonishing excavation.
Each soldier gave an oath, each gave his word
to die for his emperor, his clan, his nation,
to become a chess soldier, breathlessly erect
in shade or crossing sunlight, without hours –
from clay to clay and odourlessly strict.
If vows were visible they might see ours
as changeless chessmen in the changing light
on the lawn outside where bannered breakers toss
and palms gust with music that is time’s
above the chessmen’s silence. Motion brings loss.
A sable blackbird twitters in the limes.
From White Egrets by Derek Walcott, Faber & Faber 2010.
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In this episode, we are joined by acclaimed poet Tamar Yoseloff, who shares with us the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Morning' by Frank O'Hara.
The conversation, like the poem, is full of joy and delight, as well as sadness and loss. Tamar spoke with Michael and Andrea in early May 2024, and the conversation takes on a new light now, as we continue to hold Fiona so closely in our hearts.
Tamar Yoseloff has published seven collections, including The Formula for Night: New and Selected Poems (2015) and most recently, Belief Systems, which was a PBS Summer Recommendation in 2024. She’s also the author of Formerly, a chapbook incorporating photographs by Vici MacDonald (Hercules Editions, 2012) shortlisted for the Ted Hughes Award. She was a lecturer on the Poetry School / Newcastle University MA in Writing Poetry and continues to teach independently. She received a Cholmondeley Award in 2023.
Tamar Yoseloff was one of Fiona's outstanding poetry mentors, having taught her on the MA in 2022, along with Glyn Maxwell. It is very fitting that Tammy is our guest this month, as we celebrate the arrival of Fiona's own collection of poetry: 'On the Brink of Touch', now available from Live Canon. Tamar Yoseloff and Glyn Maxwell, along with Helen Eastman of Live Canon, were all instrumental in ensuring Fiona's collection was published - something Fiona knew was going to happen, even if she didn't get to see her book its final form. 'On the Brink of Touch' is a work of great beauty and immense humanity, and it is extraordinary that we are all now able to hold it in our hands.
Michael also mentions the memorial we held recently to remember and celebrate Fiona, which you can view anytime here.
•••••••••
Morning
by Frank O'Hara
I’ve got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you’d be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I’ll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go
From THE COLLECTED POEMS OF FRANK O'HARA © 1971 by Maureen Granville- Smith, renewed 1999 by Maureen O'Hara Granville-Smith and Donald Allen. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
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Dear friends
We are mourning and missing our beloved Fiona, whilst also celebrating her extraordinary life and work, and everything she brought to all our lives. We continue to feel her with us in everything we do.
This month, we pay tribute to Fiona by re-relasing the conversation in which Fiona visits The Poetry Exchange for herself, talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'A Kite for Aibhín' by Seamus Heaney.
The conversation was originally recorded in France in 2017, and you can also find it as episode 23 of the podcast.
We are incredibly grateful for all the amazing messages of support, gratitude, loss and condolence we have received from so many of you around the world. Your words speak volumes about Fiona and the way she touched and changed your lives, whether you knew her in person or simply through listening to her voice each month. Michael reads a small selection of some of these messages at the beginning of the episode.
Please do continue to write to us with thoughts, feelings and memories of Fiona at hello@thepoetryexchange.co.uk.
Fiona's own collection of poetry - On the Brink of Touch - will be published later this month by Live Canon, and we will let you know more about that very soon. You will hear Fiona's reading of her poem 'Imprint' at the end of this episode.
Thank you so much for all your support, love and friendship,
Michael, John and The Poetry Exchange xx
A Kite for Aibhín
by Seamus Heaney
After "L'Aquilone" by Giovanni Pascoli (1855-1912)
Air from another life and time and place,
Pale blue heavenly air is supporting
A white wing beating high against the breeze,
And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon
All of us there trooped out
Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,
I take my stand again, halt opposite
Anahorish Hill to scan the blue,
Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.
And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew,
Lifts itself, goes with the wind until
It rises to loud cheers from us below.
Rises, and my hand is like a spindle
Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower
Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher
The longing in the breast and planted feet
And gazing face and heart of the kite flier
Until string breaks and—separate, elate—
The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.
Excerpted from Human Chain by Seamus Heaney. Published in September 2010 by Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. Copyright © 2010 by Seamus Heaney. All rights reserved.
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Dearest friends,
We are so sorry to have to share the hardest news with you - something we could never imagine having to say...
Our beautiful friend and the founder, co-host and guiding light of The Poetry Exchange, Fiona Bennett, has died after a short illness.
We are so sorry this will come as a huge shock to you all.
It is hard to begin to express the enormous sense of loss, grief and endless love we are feeling for our most beloved Fiona. We know so many of you will be feeling this with us. FIona touched so many people's lives in such a profound way....whether through you listening in to her voice every month on the podcast, or through meeting and knowing Fiona in person.
As Michael puts it in the introduction to this episode: "Fiona was a real one off. She really was one of the very best."
This episode is a converastion Fiona really wanted us to share. It is an exchange with the wondrous David Lewsey about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'The World as Meditation' by Wallace Stevens. We recorded the conversation just a few months ago, and it is wonderful to hear David share all his passion for this poem and for poetry with Fiona and Michael.
We would love to hear from you with any messages, feelings and reflections about Fiona, and you can get in touch with us on hello@thepoetryexchange.co.uk. We are going to be taking some time to process and face the loss of our beautiful friend, and to think about ways of lifting up and honouring her extraordinary life and legacy.
For now, we are incredibly grateful for all your friendship, and we are sending so much love to you all.
Michael, John and The Poetry Exchange xx
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In this special episode, we share a recording of our live event at Norfolk and Norwich Festival in June 2024, celebrating our new anthology: Poems as Friends.
Michael Shaeffer is joined by contributors to the anthology Roy McFarlane and Hannah Jane Walker, to read a selection of the poems found within its pages, alongside the stories of the readers who have known them as friends.
We are incredibly grateful to the Norfolk & Norwich Festival and the National Centre for Writing for hosting us for this very special event - part of the City of Literature programme - and for all their passion and support for our work with poems as friends. City of Literature is a Norfolk & Norwich Festival and National Centre for Writing presentation, programmed by the National Centre for Writing.
We hope you enjoy listening in!
Poems as Friends: The Poetry Exchange 10th Anniversary Anthology is available now from all good bookshops in the UK and online. It is co-authored by Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer and published by Quercus Editions.
Hannah Jane Walker is an award-winning writer, performer and poet with a socially engaged practice. Her work deals with emotion, vulnerability and the human experience and has been praised for its humour, sincerity and poetic ambition. She published her first book Sensitive with Octopus Hachette and her poetry has been published by Nasty Little Press, Nine Arches Press and in anthologies with Penned in the Margins and Forest Fringe. Her plays are published by Oberon.
Roy McFarlane was born in Birmingham of Jamaican parentage and has spent most of his years living in Wolverhampton - and more recently in Brighton. He has held the role of Birmingham’s Poet Laureate, Birmingham & Midland Institute’s Poet in Residence, and is currently the UK Canal Poet Laureate. He has three collections published by Nine Arches Press: Beginning With Your Last Breath (2016); The Healing Next Time (2018), which was shortlisted for the Ted Hughes Award, and Living By Troubled Waters (2022). In 2023, Roy McFarlane was appointed a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature.
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In this episode of our podcast, acclaimed writer Nick Laird talks about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'The Envoy of Mr. Cogito' by Zbigniew Herbert, translated by Bogdana Carpenter.
Nick Laird was born in County Tyrone, Northern Ireland. He writes poetry, fiction, screenplays, and criticism, and lives in London and New York. His poetry collections (from Faber and Faber) are: To a Fault (2005); On Purpose (2007); Go Giants (2015); Feel Free (2018).
We are so grateful to Nick for joining us for this utterly extrarordinary converastion, and to Oxford University Press Ltd for their permission to share Zbigniew Herbert's poem with you in this way.
You can find out more about our upcoming events with our anthology, Poems as Friends, on our website.
'The Envoy of Mr. Cogito' by Zbigniew Herbert, translated by Bogdana Carpenter, is read by Fiona Bennett.
The Envoy of Mr. Cogito
by Zbigniew Herbert, translated by Bogdana Carpenter
Go where those others went to the dark boundary
for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize
go upright among those who are on their knees
among those with their backs turned and those toppled in the dust
you were saved not in order to live
you have little time you must give testimony
be courageous when the mind deceives you be courageous
in the final account only this is important
and let your helpless Anger be like the sea
whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten
let your sister Scorn not leave you
for the informers executioners cowards—they will win
they will go to your funeral and with relief will throw a lump of earth
the woodborer will write your smoothed-over biography
and do not forgive truly it is not in your power
to forgive in the name of those betrayed at dawn
beware however of unnecessary pride
keep looking at your clown’s face in the mirror
repeat: I was called—weren’t there better ones than I
beware of dryness of heart love the morning spring
the bird with an unknown name the winter oak
light on a wall the splendour of the sky
they don’t need your warm breath
they are there to say: no one will console you
be vigilant—when the light on the mountains gives the sign—arise and go
as long as blood turns in the breast your dark star
repeat old incantations of humanity fables and legends
because this is how you will attain the good you will not attain
repeat great words repeat them stubbornly
like those crossing the desert who perished in the sand
and they will reward you with what they have at hand
with the whip of laughter with murder on a garbage heap
go because only in this way will you be admitted to the company of cold skulls
to the company of your ancestors: Gilgamesh Hector Roland
the defenders of the kingdom without limit and the city of ashes
Be faithful Go
Zbigniew Herbert, 'The Envoy of Mr. Cogito' translated by Bogdana and John Carpenter, from Selected Poems of Zbigniew Herbert. Used by permission of Oxford University Press, Ltd.
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In this episode, our hearts are full as we are joined by the glorious poet Imtiaz Dharker, talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Meeting Point' by Louis MacNeice.
We are also thrilled to say that this episode will be with you in the month that Poems as Friends - The Poetry Exchange 10th Anniversary Anthologyis published - on 9th May 2024. We are hugely grateful to everyone who has contributed poems and stories to its pages, and to all of you for your support and love for The Poetry Exchange over the last 10 years.
Imtiaz Dharker is one of the leading and most widely respected poets of our age. "Reading her, one feels that were there to be a World Laureate, Imtiaz Dharker would be the only candidate." - Carol Ann Duffy. Imtiaz Dharker grew up a 'Muslim Calvinist' in a Lahori household in Glasgow, was adopted by India and married into Wales. She was awarded the Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry in 2014. Her main themes are drawn from a life of transitions: childhood, exile, journeying, home, displacement, religious strife and terror, and latterly, grief.
On 23rd May 2024, Imtiaz's latest collection Shadow Reader is published by Bloodaxe Books. Shadow Reader is a radiant criss-cross of encounters, messages and Punjabi proverbs, shot through with the dark thread of an unwelcome prophecy. ‘Does the warp look back at the one who is weaving and say, This is not how I remember it…?’
We are so delighted to share this conversation with you in the month that Shadow Reader - and our anthology of Poems as Friends - join us in the world.
Imtiaz Dharker is in conversation with Fiona Bennett and Roy McFarlane.
Meeting Point
by Louis MacNeice
Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs):
Time was away and somewhere else.
And they were neither up nor down;
The stream’s music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.
The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise—
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
The bell was silent in the air.
The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.
Time was away and somewhere else.
The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock:
Time was away and somewhere else.
Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.
God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body’s peace
God or whatever means the Good.
Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.
© 1967 by Louis MacNeice. Reproduced with permission of David Higham Associates, Ltd.
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In this episode of The Poetry Exchange, we talk with one of poetry's greatest leading lights, Malika Booker, about the poem that has been a friend to her: ‘The Domestic Science of Sunday Dinner’ by Lorna Goodison.
Malika Booker, currently based in Leeds, is a lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan University, a British poet of Guyanese and Grenadian Parentage, and co-founder of Malika’s Poetry Kitchen (A writer’s collective). Her pamphlet Breadfruit, (flippedeye, 2007) received a Poetry Society recommendation and her poetry collection Pepper Seed (Peepal Tree Press, 2013) was shortlisted for the OCM Bocas prize and the Seamus Heaney Centre 2014 prize for first full collection. She is published with the Poets Sharon Olds and Warsan Shire in The Penguin Modern Poet Series 3: Your Family: Your Body (2017). A Cave Canem Fellow, and inaugural Poet in Residence at The Royal Shakespeare Company, Malika was awarded the Cholmondeley Award (2019) for outstanding contribution to poetry and elected a Royal Society of Literature Fellow (2022).
Malika has won the Forward Prize for Best Single Poem TWICE: in 2020 for 'The Little Miracles' (Magma, 2019), and most recently in 2023 for 'Libation', which you can hear her read in this episode.
'Libation' was first published in The Poetry Review (112:4).
‘The Domestic Science of Sunday Dinner’ by Lorna Goodison is published in Turn Thanks by Lorna Goodison, University of Illinois Press, 1999.
You can read the full text of ‘The Domestic Science of Sunday Dinner’ on our website.
This episode closes with a reading of the poem 'Su Casa' by Andrea Witzke Slot, published in her collection 'The Ministry of Flowers' (Valley Press, 2020).
P.S. don’t forget you can pre-order your copy of Poems as Friends – The Poetry Exchange 10th Anniversary Anthology – which is published by Quercus Editions on 9th May 2024.
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In this special episode, we honour the poetry legend that is Benjamin Zephaniah by sharing this conversation with poet Roy McFarlane, talking about 'Dis Poetry' and the hugely influential part Benjamin Zephaniah has played in Roy's life.
Roy McFarlane is a poet born in Birmingham of Jamaican parentage. He has held the roles of Birmingham’s Poet Laureate, Starbucks’ Poet in Residence and Birmingham & Midland Institute’s Poet in Residence. He has three collections published by Nine Arches Press: Beginning With Your Last Breath (2016); The Healing Next Time (2018), which was shortlisted for the Ted Hughes Award, and Living By Troubled Waters (2022). In 2023, Roy McFarlane was appointed a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature.
Benjamin Obadiah Iqbal Zephaniah (15 April 1958 – 7 December 2023) was a British writer, dub poet, actor, musician and professor of poetry and creative writing. He was included in The Times’ list of Britain's top 50 post-war writers in 2008 and was probably the most televised poet of his generation in the UK. His down-to-earth mission to take poetry wherever he could – and especially to those who would not normally read it – led him to being known to millions as ‘The People’s Poet. Zephaniah was revolutionary in bringing his Jamaican voice, speech and heritage into poetry – both on the page and in performance – opening up doors for many poets to come. A lifelong activist, Zephaniah’s wrote about his lived experiences of incarceration and racism, and was a radical voice for freedom, equality and humanity around the world.
The recording of 'Dis Poetry', performed by Benjamin Zephaniah, is taken from To Do Wid Me- a 2013 film portrait of Benjamin Zephaniah by Pamela Robertson-Pearce drawing on both live performances and informal interviews. The film and accompanying Selected Poems are available from Bloodaxe Books: https://www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/to-do-wid-me-dvd-book--1038.
Roy McFarlane's extraordinary poem 'In the city of a hundred tongues' is taken from his collection The Healing Next Time, published by Nine Arches Press in 2018.
Roy McFarlane is in conversation with Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Dis Poetry
by Benjamin Zephaniah
Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops
De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed fe rantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
It gets into me dreadlocks
It lingers around me head
Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike
I've tried Shakespeare, respect due dere
But did is de stuff I like.
Read the full poem on our website.
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In this very special episode of The Poetry Exchange podcast, journalist, writer and editor Simon Crompton talks about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'The Thrush' by Edward Thomas.
This episode is dedicated to a dear friend of Simon and of The Poetry Exchange - the extraordinary Martin Heaney - who sadly died at the end of 2023. Martin has been a touchstone of The Poetry Exchange from the outset, bringing his deep passion for poetry and his belief in the central importance of friendship to our lives to our work over the years. We are eternally grateful to Martin for being such a beautiful, inspirational and joyful friend.
Simon Crompton is a journalist, writer, editor and communications consultant specialising in health and social affairs. He wrote for The Times for over 20 years, also working as the health editor of the newspaper’s Body&Soul section. He has edited many publications in the fields of health and social work and contributes regularly to the international Cancer World magazine. Throughout his career he has provided consultancy to a wide range of voluntary and statutory organisations working for patient and public welfare. Having written three non-fiction books, he is now focusing on writing fiction.
Martin Heaney's podcast is Chatty Guy Talks Cancer Care and Hope (you can hear Martin in conversation with Simon Crompton on one of the early episodes).
You can listen to Martin talk about the poem that's been a friend to him - The Lake Isle of Innisfree by W. B. Yeats - in this episode of The Poetry Exchange.
At the end of the episode, we share a recording of Martin reading 'Sometimes all it takes' by Gill McEvoy. We are very grateful to Gill for allowing us to share this beautiful poem. Gill McEvoy's Selected Poems is published by The Hedgehog Poetry Press in February 2024.
Thank you to Simon for such a beautiful converastion, to Martin for all the inspiration, and to all of you for listening.
The Thrush
by Edward Thomas
When Winter's ahead,
What can you read in November
That you read in April
When Winter's dead?
I hear the thrush, and I see
Him alone at the end of the lane
Near the bare poplar's tip,
Singing continuously.
Is it more that you know
Than that, even as in April,
So in November,
Winter is gone that must go?
Or is all your lore
Not to call November November,
And April April,
And Winter Winter—no more?
But I know the months all,
And their sweet names, April,
May and June and October,
As you call and call
I must remember
What died into April
And consider what will be born
Of a fair November;
And April I love for what
It was born of, and November
For what it will die in,
What they are and what they are not,
While you love what is kind,
What you can sing in
And love and forget in
All that's ahead and behind.
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In this episode of The Poetry Exchange, we listen back to one of our previous conversations - with the extraordinary actor Andrew Scott, talking about the poem that's been a friend to him: 'Love (III)' by George Herbert.
As 2023 draws to a close, this is the poem and conversation we want to lift up for you all...
We are incredibly grateful to Andrew Scott for joining us back in 2018 to talk so openly and eloquently about this poem and the part it has played in his life.
Thank you for all your support and for sharing a love of poetry with us during 2023.
With love from Fiona, Michael and all of us at The Poetry Exchange
Love (III)
by George Herbert
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.
‘A guest,’ I answered, ‘worthy to be here.’
Love said, ‘You shall be he.’
‘I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.’
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
‘Who made the eyes but I?’
‘Truth Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.’
‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’
‘My dear, then I will serve.’
‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat:’
So I did sit and eat.
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In this episode, poet, playwright, teacher and activist Jacqueline Saphra talks to us about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Ceasefire' by Michael Longley.
We are so grateful to Jacqueline for joining us at this time, to talk about this beautiful poem and the part it has played in her life.
Jacqueline Saphra is a poet, playwright, teacher and activist. She is the author of nine plays, five chapbooks and five poetry collections. The Kitchen of Lovely Contraptions (flipped eye) was shortlisted for the Aldeburgh First Collection Prize and If I Lay on my Back I Saw Nothing But Naked Women (The Emma Press) won Best Collaborative Work at The Sabotage Awards. Recent collections from Nine Arches Press are All My Mad Mothers (shortlisted for the T.S. Eliot Prize),Dad, Remember You are Dead and One Hundred Lockdown Sonnets. Jacqueline is a founder member of Poets for the Planet and teaches at The Poetry School. Her latest collection, Velvel's Violin (Nine Arches Press, 2023) is a Poetry Book Society Recommendation.
Jacqueline is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Ceasefire
by Michael Longley
I
Put in mind of his own father and moved to tears
Achilles took him by the hand and pushed the old king
Gently away, but Priam curled up at his feet and
Wept with him until their sadness filled the building.
II
Taking Hector’s corpse into his own hands Achilles
Made sure it was washed and, for the old king’s sake,
Laid out in uniform, ready for Priam to carry
Wrapped like a present home to Troy at daybreak.
III
When they had eaten together, it pleased them both
To stare at each other’s beauty as lovers might,
Achilles built like a god, Priam good-looking still
And full of conversation, who earlier had sighed:
IV
‘I get down on my knees and do what must be done
And kiss Achilles’ hand, the killer of my son.’
From 'Ghost Orchid' (Jonathan Cape, 1995), copyright © Michael Longley
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In this episode, poet, writer and doctor Gita Ralleigh talks to us about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'The Daughter' by Carmen Giménez.
We're so grateful to Gita for sharing such an intimate, beautiful conversation with us, and to Carmen Giménez and The University of Arizona Press for allowing us to bring the poem to you in this way.
Gita Ralleigh is a poet, writer and doctor born to Indian immigrant parents in London. She teaches creative writing to science undergraduates at Imperial College and has an MA in Creative Writing and an MSc in Medical Humanities. Her poetry books are A Terrible Thing (Bad Betty Press, 2020) and Siren (Broken Sleep Books, 2022). Her debut children’s novel The Destiny Of Minou Moonshine was published by Zephyr/Head of Zeus in July 2023. You can find her on Twitter as @storyvilled and on Instagram as @gita_ralleigh
'The Daughter' can be found in Carmen Giménez' collection Milk and Filth, published by University of Arizona Press, 2013. You can find out more about Carmen Giménez and her work at www.carmengimenez.net.
We are thrilled to announce our first anthology will be pubished by Quercus Editions on 9th May 2024!
Poems as Friends: The Poetry Exchange 10th Anniversary Anthology will bring together a beautiful selection of poems that readers have shared with us at The Poetry Exchange over the last 10 years. The poems will be presented alongside readers' stories of connection, revealing how the poems have acted as friends to them and have played a part in their lives. You can find out more about our our anthology and pre-order your copy here.
We are so grateful to all our listeners, followers and contributors for being part of The Poetry Exchange so far, and for celebrating and sharing poems as friends with us in so many beautiful ways.
The Daughter
by Carmen Giménez
We said she was a negative image of me because of her lightness.
She's light and also passage, the glory in my cortex.
Daughter, where did you get all that goddess?
Her eyes are Neruda's two dark pools at twilight.
Sometimes she's a stranger in my home because I hadn't imagined her.
Who will her daughter be?
She and I are the gradual ebb of my mother's darkness.
I unfurl the ribbon of her life, and it's a smooth long hallway, doors flung open.
Her surface is a deflection is why.
Harm on her, harm on us all.
Inside her, my grit and timbre, my reckless.
'The Daughter' from Milk & Filth. Copyright © 2013 by Carmen Gimenez Smith. Reprinted by permission of University of Arizona Press.
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In this episode, poet and criminal barrister Tim Kiely talks about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'Timothy Winters' by Charles Causley.
READ A TRANSCRIPT OF THIS EPISODE.
We are so grateful to Tim for joining us and sharing his story of connection with Causely's powerful poem.
Tim Kiely is a criminal barrister and poet based in London. His work has appeared in 'South Bank Poetry', 'Under the Radar', 'Atrium', 'Ink, Sweat & Tears' and 'Magma'. He is the author of three poetry pamphlets, 'Hymn to the Smoke' (from Indigo Dreams), 'Plaque for the Unknown Socialist' (from Back Room Poetry) and 'No Other Life' (from Vole Books), all of which are available from timkielybooks.bigcartel.com. He can be followed @timkiely1 on Instagram and Twitter.
You can find 'Timothy Winters' in Charles Causley's 'Collected Poems' 1951-2000 (Picador, 2000).
Fiona and Michael mention this year's Forward Prizes for Poetry - find out more about all the shortlisted poets and the prize ceremony, taking place at Leeds Playhouse on 16th October 2023.
Is there a poem that has been a friend to YOU? Tell us about it and read some of the extraordinary nominations of poems as friends we have received so far... www.thepoetryexchange.co.uk/nominate.
Tim Kiely is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Al Snell and Andrea Witzke Slot.
Timothy Winters
by Charles Causley
Timothy Winters comes to school
With eyes as wide as a football-pool,
Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:
A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.
His belly is white, his neck is dark,
And his hair is an exclamation-mark.
His clothes are enough to scare a crow
And through his britches the blue winds blow.
When teacher talks he won't hear a word
And he shoots down dead the arithmetic-bird,
He licks the pattern off his plate
And he's not even heard of the Welfare State.
Timothy Winters has bloody feet
And he lives in a house on Suez Street,
He sleeps in a sack on the kitchen floor
And they say there aren't boys like him anymore.
Old Man Winters likes his beer
And his missus ran off with a bombardier,
Grandma sits in the grate with a gin
And Timothy's dosed with an aspirin.
The welfare Worker lies awake
But the law's as tricky as a ten-foot snake,
So Timothy Winters drinks his cup
And slowly goes on growing up.
At Morning Prayers the Master helves
for children less fortunate than ourselves,
And the loudest response in the room is when
Timothy Winters roars "Amen!"
So come one angel, come on ten
Timothy Winters says "Amen
Amen amen amen amen."
Timothy Winters, Lord. Amen
From 'Collected Poems 1951-2000' (Picador, 2000), © Charles Causley 2000, used by permission of the author’s Estate.
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In this episode, poet Michael Mark joins us to talk about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'Little Champion' by Tony Hoagland.
Michael Mark is the author of Visiting Her in Queens is More Enlightening than a Month in a Monastery in Tibet, which won the 2022 Rattle Chapbook prize. His poems have appeared in Best American Poetry, Copper Nickel, The New York Times, Pleiades, Ploughshares, Southern Review, The Sun, 32 Poems, and The Poetry Foundation's American Life in Poetry. His two books of stories are Toba and At the Hands of a Thief (Atheneum). michaeljmark.com
We are hugely grateful to Michael for visiting The Poetry Exchange and talking so openly and eloquently about his connection with 'Little Champion.'
You can find 'Little Champion' in Tony Hogland's collection 'Application for Release from the Dream', published by Graywolf Press (2015). Many thanks to Grawywolf Press for their support.
Michael Mark is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Andrea Witzke Slot and John Prebble.
The 'gift' reading of 'Little Champion' is by John Prebble.
Little Champion
by Tony Hoagland
When I get hopeless about human life,
which quite frankly is far too difficult for me,
I like to remember that in the desert there is
a little butterfly that lives by drinking urine.
And when I have to take the bus to work on Saturday,
or spend an hour opening the mail,
deciding what to keep and what to throw away,
one piece at a time,
I think of the butterfly following its animal around
through the morning and the night,
fluttering, weaving sideways through
the cactus and the rocks.
And when I have to meet all Tuesday afternoon
with the committee to discuss new bylaws,
or listen to the dinner guest explain his recipe for German beer,
or hear the scholar tell, again,
about her campaign to destroy, once and for all,
the cult of heteronormativity,
I think of that tough little champion
with orange and black markings on its wings,
resting in the shade beneath a ledge of rock
while its animal sleeps nearby;
and I see how the droplets hang and gleam among
the thorns and drab green leaves of desert plants
and how the butterfly alights and drinks from them
deeply, with a stillness of utter concentration.
Published in The Sun Magazine, November 2014 and in the collection, 'Application for Release from the Dream' (Graywolf Press, 2015).
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In this episode of The Poetry Exchange, we are thrilled to be joined by the poetry tour-de-force that is Salena Godden, to hear about the poem that has been a friend to her: You Don't Know What Love Is by Kim Addonizio.
Salena spoke with Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer about this elusive, gorgeous poem and the part it has played in her life.
Salena Godden FRSL is an award-winning author, poet and broadcaster of Jamaican-mixed heritage. Her debut novel Mrs Death Misses Deathwon the Indie Book Award for Fiction and the People’s Book Prize, and was shortlisted for the British Book Awards and the Gordon Burn Prize. Film and TV rights for Mrs Death Misses Death have been optioned by Idris Elba’s production company Green Door Pictures.
A hardback edition of Pessimism is for Lightweights - 30 Pieces of Courage and Resistancewas published by Rough Trade Books in February 2023. She is currently working on a memoir and a poetry collection which are both due for publication in May 2024, plus an eagerly anticipated second novel set in the Mrs Death Misses Death universe due for publication in spring 2025.
Salena Godden's work has been widely anthologised and broadcast on BBC radio, TV and film. Her latest credits include her contribution to the BAFTA award-winning Life and Rhymes presented by Benjamin Zephaniah, and co-starring in award-winning indie anti-rom-com movie Brakes.
Her essay Shade was published in groundbreaking anthology The Good Immigrant(Unbound 2016). Godden has had several volumes of poetry published including Under The Pier (Nasty Little Press 2011) Fishing in the Aftermath: Poems 1994-2014 (Burning Eye Books 2014), plus also a childhood memoir, Springfield Road (Unbound 2014).
After hearing this episode, you will probably want to seek out read as much as you can of Kim Addonizio's work. Go on an adventure with this bold, bravura poet's work...
You Don't Know What Love Is
by Kim Addonizio
You don't know what love is
but you know how to raise it in me
like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to
wash off the sludge, the stench of our past.
How to start clean. This love even sits up
and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps.
Any day now she'll try to eat solid food. She'll want
to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive
to some cinderblock shithole in the desert
where she can drink and get sick and then
dance in nothing but her underwear. You know
where she's headed, you know she'll wake up
with an ache she can't locate and no money
and a terrible thirst. So to hell
with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt
and your tongue down my throat
like an oxygen tube. Cover me
in black plastic. Let the mourners through.
From 'What Is This Thing Called Love' by Kim Addonizio (2005, W.W. Norton & Co.)
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In this episode, poet, radio host and editor Lois P. Jones talks about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'What Survives' by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by A. Poulin Jr.
Lois P. Jones is a luminous poet, radio host and editor, living in California. She won the 2023 Alpine Fellowship which this year takes place in Fjällnäs, Sweden. She was a finalist in the annual Mslexia Poetry Competition judged by Helen Mort and will be published in Spring 2023. In 2022 her work was a finalist for both the Best Spiritual Literature Award in Poetry from Orison Books and the Tom Howard/Margaret Reid Poetry Contest. Lois' first collection, 'Night Ladder' was published by Glass Lyre Press in 2017 and was a finalist for the Julie Suk Award and the Lascaux Poetry Prize for a poetry collection. Since 2007, has hosted KPFK’s Poets Café, co-produced the Moonday Poetry Series and acted as poetry editor for Pushcart and Utne prize-winning Kyoto Journal.
'What Survives' was published in The Complete French Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by A. Poulin, Jr, by Graywolf Press in 2002.
Lois P. Jones is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
The 'gift' reading of 'What Survives' is by Fiona and Michael.
What Survives
by Rainer Maria Rilke
translated by A. Poulin, Jr.
Who says that all must vanish?
Who knows, perhaps the flight
of the bird you wound remains,
and perhaps flowers survive
our caresses, in their ground.
It isn't the gesture that lasts,
but it dresses you again in gold
armor--from breast to knees—
and the battle was so pure
may an Angel wear it after you.
From The Complete French Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by A. Poulin, Jr. (Graywolf Press, 2002).
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In this latest episode, writer Rosie Garland talks to us about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'My Dark Horses' by Jodie Hollander.
Writer and singer with post-punk band The March Violets, Rosie Garland has a passion for language nurtured by public libraries. Her poetry collection ‘What Girls do the Dark’ (Nine Arches Press) was shortlisted for the Polari Prize 2021, & her novel The Night Brother was described by The Times as “a delight...with shades of Angela Carter.” Val McDermid has named her one of the UK’s most compelling LGBT writers. http://www.rosiegarland.com
Jodie Hollander, originally from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, was raised in a family of classical musicians. She studied poetry in England, and her poems have appeared in journals such as The Poetry Review, The Yale Review and The Dark Horse. Her debut full-length collection, My Dark Horses, was published with Liverpool University Press (Pavilion Poetry) in 2017. Her second collection, Nocturne, was published with Liverpool & Oxford University Press in the spring of 2023. https://www.jodiehollander.com
Rosie Garland is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Sally Anglesea and John Prebble.
In the introduction, Fiona also mentions Glyn Maxwell's extraordinary new collection, 'The Big Calls', which was published by Live Canon in March 2023.
We hope you enjoy being with all the poems featured in this episode!
My Dark Horses
by Jodie Hollander
If only I were more like my dark horses,
I wouldn’t have to worry all the time
that I was running too little and resting too much.
I’d spend my hours grazing in the sunlight,
taking long naps in the vast pastures.
And when it was time to move along I’d know;
I’d spend some time with all those that I’d loved,
then disappear into a gathering of trees.
If only I were more like my dark horses,
I wouldn’t be so frightened of the storms;
instead, when the clouds began to gather and fill
I’d make my way calmly to the shed,
and stand close to all the other horses.
Together, we’d let the rain fall round us,
knowing as darkness passes overhead
that above all, this is the time to be still.
From 'My Dark Horses' by Jodie Hollander, Liverpool University Press, 2017.
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In this latest episode of The Poetry Exchange, we revisit our conversation with the extraordinary poet & artist Rachel Eliza Griffiths about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Remember' by Joy Harjo.
This beautiful and transformative conversation was originally released in 2020 and has been a friend to many of our listeners so far. We felt it was one to bring into the light all over again!
We are hugely grateful to Rachel Eliza Griffiths for sharing her profound story of connection with Joy Harjo's life-filled poem, and to Joy Harjo and her publisher W.W. Norton & Co. for giving us their blessing to share it with you in this way.
Rachel Eliza Griffiths is an American poet, novelist, photographer and visual artist, who is the author of five published collections of poems. In her most recent book, Seeing the Body (2020), she "pairs poetry with photography, exploring memory, Black womanhood, the American landscape, and rebirth." (Sarah Herrington, Los Angeles Review of Books). Seeing the Body was the winner of the 2021 Hurston/Wright Foundation Legacy Award in Poetry, the winner of the 2021 Paterson Poetry Prize, and nominated for a 2020 NAACP Image award. Rachel Eliza's forthcoming debut novel, Promise, will be published by Random House. You can find out more about Rachel Eliza Griffiths' work at: www.rachelelizagriffiths.com.
Joy Harjo is an internationally renowned performer and writer of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation. She served three terms as the 23rd Poet Laureate of the United States from 2019-2022 and is the author of ten books of poetry, including the highly acclaimed, Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light: Fifty Poems for Fifty Years. Her many honors include the National Book Critics Circle Ivan Sandrof Lifetime Achievement Award, the Ruth Lily Prize for Lifetime Achievement from the Poetry Foundation, the Academy of American Poets Wallace Stevens Award, and a Guggenheim Fellowship. You can find out more about Joy Harjo's work at: www.joyharjo.com.
This is the third of a trio of episodes revisiting previously released conversations - specially chosen and introduced by Fiona and Michael.
Remember
by Joy Harjo
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.
'Remember' reproduced from She Had Some Horses: Poems by Joy Harjo (c) 2008 by Joy Harjo. Used with permission of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.
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In this latest episode of The Poetry Exchange, we revisit our conversation about 'Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)' by Frank O'Hara - A Friend to Harry.
This gorgeous conversation was originally released in 2016 and has been a friend to many of our listeners so far. We felt it was one to lift up and enjoy all over again!
We are hugely grateful to Harry for sharing his story of connection with Frank O'Hara's wonderful poem, and to the John Rylands Library for hosting this conversation back in 2016.
This is the second of a trio of episodes revisiting previously released conversations - specially chosen and introduced by Fiona and Michael.
Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)
by Frank O'Hara
Lana Turner has collapsed!
I was trotting along and suddenly
it started raining and snowing
and you said it was hailing
but hailing hits you on the head
hard so it was really snowing and
raining and I was in such a hurry
to meet you but the traffic
was acting exactly like the sky
and suddenly I see a headline
LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED!
there is no snow in Hollywood
there is no rain in California
I have been to lots of parties
and acted perfectly disgraceful
but I never actually collapsed
oh Lana Turner we love you get up
’Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)' by Frank O'Hara from 'Lunch Poems: Pocket Poets Number 19'. (City Lights Publishers 2014).
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In this latest episode of The Poetry Exchange, we revisit our conversation about 'The force that through the green fuse drives the flower' by Dylan Thomas - A Friend to Angela.
This extraordinary and beautiful conversation was originally released in 2019 and has been a friend to many of our listeners so far. We felt it was one to lift up and revisit again in this moment.
We are hugely grateful to Angela for sharing her story of connection with Dylan Thomas's poem, and to Manchester Central Library for hosting this conversation.
This is the first of a trio of episodes revisiting previously released conversations - specially chosen and introduced by Fiona and Michael.
You will also hear Fiona and Michael read from and discuss Kae Tempest's soul-reaching and truth-speaking book On Connection, as well as the poem 'Tall Nettles' by Edward Thomas.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
by Dylan Thomas
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
Poem © Dylan Thomas. Used by permission of David Higham Associates.
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In this episode of The Poetry Exchange, poet Rowena Knight talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Grief' by Matthew Dickman. Rowena visited us in Durham and is in conversation with Andrea Witzke Slot and Michael Shaeffer. We are hugely grateful to her for sharing her story of connection with Matthew Dickman's poem.Rowena Knight’s poetry is influenced by her identity as a queer feminist and her childhood in New Zealand. Her poems have appeared in various publications, including Butcher’s Dog, Magma, The Rialto, and The Emma Press Anthology of Love. She was shortlisted for the 2018 Bridport Prize and commended in the 2019 Winchester Poetry Prize. Her first pamphlet, All the Footprints I Left Were Red, was published with Valley Press in 2016. You can find her on Twitter @purple_feminist and Instagram @purple_feminist_You can discover more of Matthew Dickman's stunning, reverberating poetry at www.matthewdickmanpoetry.com. 'Grief' can be found in the collection 'Mayakovsky's Revolver' from W.W. Norton & Company, 2012.The reading of 'Grief' is by Andrea Witzke Slot.***Griefby Matthew DickmanWhen grief comes to you as a purple gorillayou must count yourself lucky.You must offer her what’s leftof your dinner, the book you were trying to finishyou must put asideand make her a place to sit at the foot of your bed,her eyes moving from the clockto the television and back again.I am not afraid. She has been here beforeand now I can recognize her gaitas she approaches the house.Some nights, when I know she’s coming,I unlock the door, lie down on my back,and count her stepsfrom the street to the porch.Tonight she brings a pencil and a ream of paper,tells me to write downeveryone I have ever known,and we separate them between the living and the deadso she can pick each name at random.I play her favorite Willie Nelson albumbecause she misses Texasbut I don’t ask why.She hums a little,the way my brother does when he gardens.We sit for an hourwhile she tells me how unreasonable I’ve been,crying in the check-out line,refusing to eat, refusing to shower,all the smoking and all the drinking.Eventually she puts one of her heavypurple arms around me, leansher head against mine,and all of a sudden things are feeling romantic.So I tell her,things are feeling romantic.She pulls another name, this timefrom the dead,and turns to me in that way that parents doso you feel embarrassed or ashamed of something.Romantic? She says,reading the name out loud, slowlyso I am aware of each syllable, each vowelwrapping around the bones like new muscle,the sound of that person’s bodyand how reckless it is,how careless that his name is in one pile and not the other.Copyright: Matthew Dickman. 'Grief' by Matthew Dickman, from 'Mayakovsky's Revolver', W.W. Norton & Company, 2012.
In this episode, poet Ella Frears talks about the poem that has been a friend to her: The The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.Ella Frears is a poet and artist based in London. Her debut collection, Shine, Darling, (Offord Road Books, 2020) was a Poetry Book Society Recommendation and was shortlisted for both the Forward Prize for Best First Collection, and the T. S. Eliot Prize for Poetry. Her latest pamphlet I AM THE MOTHER CAT written as part of her residency at John Hansard Gallery is out with Rough Trade Books (2021). Ella was recently named Poet in Residence for the Dartington Trust’s grade II listed Gardens, selected by Alice Oswald. She is a trustee and editor for Magma Poetry and has been Poet in Residence for the National Trust, Tate Britain, The John Hansard Gallery, K6 Gallery, SPUD (the Observatory), conservation organisation Back from the Brink, and was poet in residence at Royal Holloway University physics department, writing about the Cassini Space Mission. https://ellafrears.comElla is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
In our latest episode, acclaimed poet, playwright and librettist Glyn Maxwell talks about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'Acquainted with the Night' by Robert Frost.
Glyn is in conversation with Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Glyn Maxwell's volumes of poetry include The Breakage, Hide Now, Pluto, and How The Hell Are You, all of which were shortlisted for either the Forward or T. S. Eliot Prizes, and The Nerve, which won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize.
On Poetry, a guidebook for the general reader, was published by Oberon in 2012. The Spectator called it ‘a modern classic’ and The Guardian’s Adam Newey described it as ‘the best book about poetry I’ve ever read.’ Drinks With Dead Poets, which is both an expansion of On Poetry and a novel in itself, was published by Oberon in September 2016.
Many of Maxwell’s plays have been staged in London and New York, including Liberty at Shakespeare’s Globe, and at the Almeida, Arcola, RADA and Southwark Playhouse.
Acquainted with the Night By Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost, "Acquainted with the Night" from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright © 1964, 1970 by Leslie Frost Ballantine. Copyright 1936, 1942 © 1956 by Robert Frost. Copyright 1923, 1928, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Co.
A little extra message from Fiona and Michael to remind you about our special, online event this Thursday 3rd November: In The Company Of Poems.
Join us to hear some of the world's greatest poems read by some of the finest voices amongst our company of poets and performers, including: Ciarán Hinds, Paterson Joseph, Sasha Dugdale, Hafsah Aneela Bashir, Roxy Dunn and Roy Mcfarlane - together with hosts Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
There will be poems to move you by Dylan Thomas, Joy Harjo, Seamus Heaney, Emily Brontë, Jodie Hollander, Sharon Olds, W.B. Yeats and more!
The event will be live-streamed via YouTube, so you can simply put your feet up and enjoy a sensational night of poems and voices.
Book your place at inthecompanyofpoems.eventbrite.com. This is a fundraising event for The Poetry Exchange on a pay-what-you-can basis.
Thank you, as ever, for listening and for all your wonderful support.
Fiona, Michael and The Poetry Exchange team
In this episode of our podcast, Alex Pritchard-Jones talks about the poem that has been a friend to him: Poem in October by Dylan Thomas.
Alex spoke with us online during a day of Exchanges at the Birmingham and Midland Institute. He is in conversation with Fiona Bennett and Roy McFarlane.
Poem in October is read by Alex Pritchard-Jones and Roy McFarlane.
To join us for our live, online event In The Company Of Poems on 3rd November 2022, 7-8pm (GMT), visit https://inthecompanyofpoems.eventbrite.co.uk. Don't miss this night of powerful poems and voices!
Poem In October It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water- Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days. High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border And the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill's shoulder, Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly Come in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Wind blow cold In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour And over the sea wet church the size of a snail With its horns through mist and the castle Brown as owls But all the gardens Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud. There could I marvel My birthday Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country And down the other air and the blue altered sky Streamed again a wonder of summer With apples Pears and red currants And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine. These were the woods the river and sea Where a boy In the listening Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide. And the mystery Sang alive Still in the water and singingbirds.
And there could I marvel my birthday Away but the weather turned around. And the true Joy of the long dead child sang burning In the sun. It was my thirtieth Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon Though the town below lay leaved with October blood. O may my heart's truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year's turning.
In this special, feature-length episode, we bring you our live event at SkyLines Festival of Poetry & Spoken Word in Coventry, which took place in July 2022.
Renowned poets Roz Goddard and Rishi Dastidar are in converation with hosts Michael Shaeffer and Roy McFarlane about the poems that have been friends to them, alongside live readings from The Poetry Exchange archive.
Roz talks about 'Pulmonary Tuberculosis' by Katherine Mansfield; Rishi talks about 'Lousy with unfuckedness, I dream' by Amy Key.
We are hugely greatful to Roz and Rishi for joining us for this event and for sharing the poems that have been friends to them so openly and beautifully. Our thanks also to the Belgrade Theatre and SkyLines Festival team, especially Jane Commane for inviting us to be part of the programme and Jason Sylvester and Debbie Harlow for their support on the day.
Thank you to Amy Key for allowing us to share her brilliant poem - you can find it in Amy's collection 'Isn't Forever' from Bloodaxe Books: www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/isn-t-forever-1181
Roy also reads 'A Short Story of Falling' by Alice Oswald. Many thanks to Alice Oswald and United Agents for granting us permission to share the poem in this capacity. 'A Short Story of Falling' can be found in the collection 'Falling Awake' (W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2016.
Pulmonary Tuberculosis by Katherine Mansfield
The man in the room next to mine has the same complaint as I. When I wake in the night I hear him turning. And then he coughs. And I cough. And after a silence I cough. And he coughs again. This goes on for a long time. Until I feel we are like two roosters calling to each other at false dawn. From far-away hidden farms.
Lousy with unfuckedness, I dream by Amy Key
each night I count ghostlets of how my body was wanted / behind with deadheading / rose hips have come / behind with actions that count only / when the timing is right / I took out a contract / it was imprudent in value / behind with asepsis / hello microbes of my body / we sleep together / hello cats / I make my bed daily / of the three types of hair on the sheets / only one is human / I count the bedrooms / I never had sex in / but there were cars / wild woods / blackfly has got to all the nasturtiums / you cannot dig up a grapevine / and expect shelter to come / I am touched by your letter / writes a friend / you prevaricate desire / says message / all this fucking / with no hands on me
Copyright Amy Key. From 'Isn't Forever' by Amy Key (Bloodaxe Books, 2018).
In this episode, poet Sue Brown talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her - 'Truth' by Jean 'Binta' Breeze. Sue joined The Poetry Exchange at the Birmingham & Midland Institute and is in conversation with Fiona Bennett and Roy McFarlane.
Sue Brown writes from the heart and the soul. Her words pull from the dialect of her local community, from the long toned melodic speech of preachers and Maya Angelou, from mantras and incantations, from jazz. In her poetry, a lifetime in the making, she is a fighter and a lover, by turns rising up against the oppression that has dominated her peoples’ history, and rising skywards on the warm air of her compassion and her capacity for love. These poems move with a beat that speaks to hearts everywhere. They pulse with life, feeling like they could either be spoken or sung. Feel their rhythm. Feel their profound sensibility. And as Roy McFarlane says in his exuberant introduction to this book – ‘Let Rhythm Chant take a hold of you.’
'Truth' is taken from Jean Binta Breeze's 'Third World Girl - Selected Poems', published by Bloodaxe Books: www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/third-world-girl-1005
In this episode, Maryam talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Love Song for Words' by Nazik Al-Malaika, translated from the Arabic by Rebecca Carol Johnson.
Maryam joined The Poetry Exchange online, for one of our Lockdown Exchanges. She is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Al Snell and Andrea Witzke-Slot.
Love Song for Words Nazik Al-Malaika
Why do we fear words when they have been rose-palmed hands, fragrant, passing gently over our cheeks, and glasses of heartening wine sipped, one summer, by thirsty lips?
Why do we fear words when among them are words like unseen bells, whose echo announces in our troubled lives the coming of a period of enchanted dawn, drenched in love, and life? So why do we fear words?
We took pleasure in silence. We became still, fearing the secret might part our lips. We thought that in words laid an unseen ghoul, crouching, hidden by the letters from the ear of time. We shackled the thirsty letters, we forbade them to spread the night for us as a cushion, dripping with music, dreams, and warm cups.
Why do we fear words? Among them are words of smooth sweetness whose letters have drawn the warmth of hope from two lips, and others that, rejoicing in pleasure have waded through momentary joy with two drunk eyes. Words, poetry, tenderly turned to caress our cheeks, sounds that, asleep in their echo, lies a rich color, a rustling, a secret ardor, a hidden longing.
Why do we fear words? If their thorns have once wounded us, then they have also wrapped their arms around our necks and shed their sweet scent upon our desires. If their letters have pierced us and their face turned callously from us Then they have also left us with an oud in our hands And tomorrow they will shower us with life. So pour us two full glasses of words!
Tomorrow we will build ourselves a dream-nest of words, high, with ivy trailing from its letters. We will nourish its buds with poetry and water its flowers with words. We will build a balcony for the timid rose with pillars made of words, and a cool hall flooded with deep shade, guarded by words.
Our life we have dedicated as a prayer To whom will we pray . . . but to words?
In this episode, India & Samira talk with us about the poem that has been a friend to them – 'On Marriage' from 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran.
India & Samira joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our Lockdown Exchanges.
They are in conversation with Poetry Exchange hosts, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
On Marriage By Kahlil Gibran
Then Almitra spoke again and said, And what of Marriage, master? And he answered saying: You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.
In this episode, Michael Cooke talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Fisherman' by Dennis Scott. Michael joined The Poetry Exchange online for one of our Lockdown Exchanges. We are hugely grateful to Michael for spending this time with us and sharing such a beautiful poem and converastion.
Michael Cooke is in conversation with Fiona Bennett and John Prebble.
'Fisherman' is read by Michael Cooke and John Prebble.
The scales like metal flint his feet, their empty eyes like me. How gray their colours in the heat! Cool as the oily sea.
With gentle hand he slits the heart, and the flesh as white as milk and the ribboned entrails fall apart like the fall of coiling silk.
Some day I too shall fish, and find on stranger shores than these the ribs and muscles of my blind self, rainbowed from the seas.
From 'Uncle Time' by Dennis Scott, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1973.
In our latest episode, Sue Lawther-Brown talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her: The Lake Isle of Innisfree by William Butler Yeats.
We are hugely grateful to Sue for bringing this beautiful poem to us and sharing such a rich and moving conversation.
Sue joined us at the National Centre for Writing in Norwich and we are very grateful to the team there for hosting us so warmly. www.nationalcentreforwriting.org.uk
You can discover previous conversations about this poem with different guests on episodes 9 and 26 of our podcast.
Michael's play is Tom Fool at Orange Tree Theatre, London: www.orangetreetheatre.co.uk/whats-on/tom-fool
Paul Henry's forthcoming collection 'As If To Sing' is from Seren Books: www.serenbooks.com/productdisplay/as-if-to-sing
The Lake Isle of Innisfree is read by Sue Lawther-Brown and Fiona Bennett.
The Lake Isle Of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
In this episode, poet Casey Bailey talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'The Way Home' by Liz Berry. Casey joined The Poetry Exchange at the Birmingham & Midland Institute and is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Roy McFarlane.
Casey Bailey is a writer, performer and educator, born and raised in Nechells, Birmingham, UK. Casey is the Birmingham Poet Laureate 2020 - 2022 and the Greater Birmingham Future Face of Arts and Culture 2020.
Casey’s second full poetry collection Please Do Not Touch was published by Burning Eye in 2021. Casey’s debut play ‘GrimeBoy’ was commissioned by the Birmingham Rep in 2020. He was commissioned by the BBC to write ‘The Ballad of The Peaky Blinders’ in 2019. In 2020 the poem was internationally recognised, winning a Webby Award. Casey has performed his poetry nationally, and internationally.
Casey was named as one of ‘Birmingham Live’s’, Birmingham ’30 under 30’ of 2018, Casey is a Fellow of the University of Worcester and in 2021 was awarded an honorary doctorate by Newman University.
www.caseybailey.co.uk
'The Way Home' is read by Casey Bailey and Roy McFarlane.
In this episode, Gill Gregory talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'On the Departure Platform' by Thomas Hardy.
Gill joined The Poetry Exchange at the National Centre for Writing in Norwich. We are hugely grateful to the National Centre for Writing for hosting us so warmly, and to all the readers who visited us there.
Andrea is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'On the Departure Platform' is read by Gill Gregory and Michael Shaeffer.
On the Departure Platform by Thomas Hardy
We kissed at the barrier; and passing through She left me, and moment by moment got Smaller and smaller, until to my view She was but a spot;
A wee white spot of muslin fluff That down the diminishing platform bore Through hustling crowds of gentle and rough To the carriage door.
Under the lamplight’s fitful glowers, Behind dark groups from far and near, Whose interests were apart from ours, She would disappear,
Then show again, till I ceased to see That flexible form, that nebulous white; And she who was more than my life to me Had vanished quite.
We have penned new plans since that fair fond day, And in season she will appear again— Perhaps in the same soft white array— But never as then !
—‘And why, young man, must eternally fly A joy you’ll repeat, if you love her well ?’ —O friend, nought happens twice thus ; why, I cannot tell!
In this episode, Andrea Holland talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Song of Myself' by Walt Whitman. Andrea joined The Poetry Exchange at the National Centre for Writing in Norwich. We are hugely grateful to the National Centre for Writing for hosting us so warmly, and to all the readers who visited us there.
Andrea is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Andrea Holland is a poet and lecturer in Creative Writing. As winner of the Norfolk Commission for Poetry her collection 'Broadcasting' was published in 2013 (Gatehouse Press). The collection focuses on the forced requisition of several Norfolk villages for D-Day training in 1942, and the subsequent dislocation of villagers and community. Her pamphlet, 'Borrowed' (Smith/Doorstop, 2007) was first-stage winner of the Poetry Business Competition 2006. Her writing has appeared in journals such as Mslexia, The North, Rialto, Smith's Knoll, and in Slanted: 12 Poems for Christmas (IST, 2014).
The 'gift' reading of Song of Myself is read by Michael Shaeffer.
From 'Song of Myself' Walt Whitman
I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.
Loaf with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turned over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stripped heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heaped stones, elder, mullein and pokeweed.
In this episode, poet Gregory Leadbetter talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Kubla Khan' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Gregory joined The Poetry Exchange at the Birmingham & Midland Institute - one of our first in-person exchanges since the pandemic.
He is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Roy McFarlane.
Gregory Leadbetter is a poet and critic. He is the author of two poetry collections, Maskwork (2020) and The Fetch (2016), both with Nine Arches Press, as well as the pamphlet The Body in the Well (HappenStance Press, 2007), and (with photographs by Phil Thomson) Balanuve (Broken Sleep, 2021).
His book Coleridge and the Daemonic Imagination (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011) won the University English Book Prize 2012.
The 'gift' reading of Kubla Khan is read by Roy McFarlane.
Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round; And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean; And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight ’twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
In this episode, Pete Stones talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Old Mary' by Gwendolyn Brooks. Pete joined The Poetry Exchange at the Birmingham & Midland Institute - one of our first in-person exchanges since the pandemic.
He is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and John Prebble.
'Old Mary' is read by Pete Stones and Fiona Bennett.
Old Mary by Gwendolyn Brooks
My last defense Is the present tense.
It little hurts me now to know I shall not go
Cathedral-hunting in Spain Nor cherrying in Michigan or Maine.
Reproduced by consent of Brooks Permissions.
In this episode, Dr Maria Augusta Arruda talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Eve Remembering' by Toni Morrison. Maria joined The Poetry Exchange online for one of our Lockdown Exchanges. She is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'Eve Remembering' is read by Maria Augusta Arruda and Fiona Bennett.
Eve Remembering by Toni Morrison
1
I tore from a limb fruit that had lost its green. My hands were warmed by the heat of an apple Fire red and humming. I bit sweet power to the core. How can I say what it was like? The taste! The taste undid my eyes And led me far from the gardens planted for a child To wildernesses deeper than any master’s call.
2
Now these cool hands guide what they once caressed; Lips forget what they have kissed. My eyes now pool their light Better the summit to see.
3
I would do it all over again: Be the harbor and set the sail, Loose the breeze and harness the gale, Cherish the harvest of what I have been. Better the summit to scale. Better the summit to be.
From Five Poems (Rainmaker Editions, 2002) by Toni Morrison with silhouettes by Kara Walker. Used with permission from The Believer Magazine.
In this episode, Ana Sampson talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'The Republic of Motherhood' by Liz Berry.
Ana Sampson is a highly accomplished poetry editor. She has edited 8 poetry anthologies including 'Night Feeds and Morning Songs: Honest, fierce and beautiful poems about motherhood', as well as 'She is Fierce' and 'She Will Soar' - two bold and brilliant anthologies of women's verse throughout history. Ana's books have sold over 240,000 copies and she writes and speaks often about books and poetry in the media. She has also spoken about the hidden history of women’s writing at bookshops, festivals, libraries, schools and literary events.
www.anasampson.co.uk
We are hugely grateful to Liz Berry and Chatto & Windus for allowing us to share Liz's extraordinary poem in this way. You can buy Liz's entire pamphlet - The Republic of Motherhood - here:
www.poetrybooks.co.uk/products/republic-of-motherhood-liz-berry
Ana is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Andrea Witzke Slot and John Prebble.
The Republic of Motherhood By Liz Berry
I crossed the border into the Republic of Motherhood and found it a queendom, a wild queendom. I handed over my clothes and took its uniform, its dressing gown and undergarments, a cardigan soft as a creature, smelling of birth and milk, and I lay down in Motherhood’s bed, the bed I had made but could not sleep in, for I was called at once to work in the factory of Motherhood. The owl shift, the graveyard shift. Feedingcleaninglovingfeeding. I walked home, heartsore, through pale streets, the coins of Motherhood singing in my pockets. Then I soaked my spindled bones in the chill municipal baths of Motherhood, watching strands of my hair float from my fingers. Each day I pushed my pram through freeze and blossom down the wide boulevards of Motherhood where poplars bent their branches to stroke my brow. I stood with my sisters in the queues of Motherhood— the weighing clinic, the supermarket—waiting for Motherhood’s bureaucracies to open their doors. As required, I stood beneath the flag of Motherhood and opened my mouth although I did not know the anthem. When darkness fell I pushed my pram home again, and by lamplight wrote urgent letters of complaint to the Department of Motherhood but received no response. I grew sick and was healed in the hospitals of Motherhood with their long-closed isolation wards and narrow beds watched over by a fat moon. The doctors were slender and efficient and when I was well they gave me my pram again so I could stare at the daffodils in the parks of Motherhood while winds pierced my breasts like silver arrows. In snowfall, I haunted Motherhood’s cemeteries, the sweet fallen beneath my feet— Our Lady of the Birth Trauma, Our Lady of Psychosis. I wanted to speak to them, tell them I understood, but the words came out scrambled, so I knelt instead and prayed in the chapel of Motherhood, prayed for that whole wild fucking queendom, its sorrow, its unbearable skinless beauty, and all the souls that were in it. I prayed and prayed until my voice was a nightcry and sunlight pixelated my face like a kaleidoscope.
© Liz Berry. From 'The Republic of Motherhood' by Liz Berry (Chatto & Windus 2018).
In this episode, Jessica talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'From Blossoms' by Li-Young Lee. Jessica joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our Lockdown Exchanges.
Jessica works as an Audio Producer with Listening Books, an audiobook lending charity for those that find their illness, mental health, physical or learning disability affects their ability to read the printed word or hold a book. You can find out more about this wonderful charity here:
www.listening-books.org.uk
And tune into their podcast here:
bit.ly/3xPZjxH
You can also listen to our podcast episode: 'Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins - Poem as Friend to Vahni' here:
bit.ly/3gLrYOG
Jessica is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Michael reads 'From Blossoms'.
From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee
From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches we bought from the boy at the bend in the road where we turned toward signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands, from sweet fellowship in the bins, comes nectar at the roadside, succulent peaches we devour, dusty skin and all, comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
Li-Young Lee, “From Blossoms” from Rose. Copyright © 1986 by Li-Young Lee. Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions Ltd., www.boaeditions.org.
In this special, feature-length episode, pioneering broadcaster, writer and host of On Being, Krista Tippett talks about the poem that has been a friend to her: ‘Good Lord The Light’ by Christian Wiman.
Krista Tippett has created a singular space for reflection and conversation in American and global public life. She founded and leads the On Being Project (www.onbeing.org)— a groundbreaking media and public life initiative pursuing “deep thinking and moral imagination, social courage and joy to renew inner life, outer life, and life together.” As the creator and host of the Peabody Award-winning On Being radio show, heard on over 400 public radio stations across the US, Tippett takes up the great animating questions of human life: What does it mean to be human, how we do want to live, and who will we be to each other?
In 2014, President Obama awarded Krista the National Humanities Medal at the White House for “thoughtfully delving into the mysteries of human existence. On the air and in print, Ms. Tippett avoids easy answers, embracing complexity and inviting people of every background to join her conversation about faith, ethics, and moral wisdom.”
Krista is also the author of three books at the intersection of spiritual inquiry, social healing, science, and the arts: Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living; Einstein’s God: Conversations about Science and the Human Spirit and Speaking of Faith, a memoir of religion in our time.
Krista is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
‘Good Lord The Light’ can be found in poet Christian Wiman’s latest collection – ‘Survival is a Style’, from Farrar, Straus and Geroux: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374272050
You can listen to Krista’s extraordinary range of life-expanding conversations through the On Being podcast – which can be found wherever you get your podcasts and at www.onbeing.com.
The gift reading of 'Good Lord The Light' is by Michael Shaeffer.
GOOD LORD THE LIGHT by Christian Wiman
Good morning misery, goodbye belief, good Lord the light cutting across the lake so long gone to ice —
There is an under, always, through which things still move, breathe, and have their being, quick coals and crimsons no one need see to see.
Good night knowledge, goodbye beyond, good God the winter one must wander one’s own soul to be.
From 'Survival is a Style' - Farrar, Straus and Giroux (February 2020)
In this episode, Lewi talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'The Horses' by Ted Hughes. Lewi joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our Lockdown Exchanges. It was in celebration of Manchester Literature Festival, which you can find out more about here:
www.manchesterliteraturefestival.co.uk
Lewi is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Fiona reads 'The Horses'
The Horses By Ted Hughes
I climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark. Evil air, a frost-making stillness,
Not a leaf, not a bird- A world cast in frost. I came out above the wood
Where my breath left tortuous statues in the iron light. But the valleys were draining the darkness
Till the moorline blackening dregs of the brightening grey Halved the sky ahead. And I saw the horses:
Huge in the dense grey ten together Megalith-still. They breathed, making no move,
With draped manes and tilted hind-hooves, Making no sound.
I passed: not one snorted or jerked its head. Grey silent fragments Of a grey still world.
I listened in emptiness on the moor-ridge. The curlews tear turned its edge on the silence.
Slowly detail leafed from the darkness. Then the sun Orange, red, red erupted
Silently, and splitting to its core tore and flung cloud, Shook the gulf open, showed blue,
And the big planets hanging I turned
Stumbling in a fever of a dream, down towards The dark woods, from the kindling tops,
And came the horses. There, still they stood, But now steaming, and glistening under the flow of light,
Their draped stone manes, their tilted hind-hooves Stirring under a thaw while all around them
The frost showed its fires. But still they made no sound. Not one snorted or stamped,
Their hung heads patient as the horizons, High over valleys, in the red levelling rays
In din of the crowded streets, going among the years, the faces, May I still meet my memory in so lonely a place
Between the streams and the red clouds, hearing curlews, Hearing the horizons endure.
New Selected Poems by Ted Hughes. Faber & Faber; Main edition (6 Mar. 1995)
In this episode, Fehmida talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Still I Rise' by Maya Angelou. Fehmida joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our Lockdown Exchanges. It was in celebration of Manchester Literature Festival, which you can find out more about here:
www.manchesterliteraturefestival.co.uk
You can also find out more about our wonderful guest, Fehmida, and the work she pioneers for women and those who are under-represented in publishing here:
www.fehmidamaster.com www.masterhousepublishing.com
Fehmida is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
Fehmida reads 'Still I Rise'.
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard ’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.
Maya Angelou, "Still I Rise" from And Still I Rise: A Book of Poems. Copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou. Used by permission of Random House, an imprint and division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
In this episode, Tom talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Aubade' by Philip Larkin.
Tom visited The Poetry Exchange in February 2020 for what turned out to be our last live event of the year before lockdown. He joined us at beautiful Manchester Central Library and is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Al Snell.
Al reads the gift reading of 'Aubade'.
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what’s really always there: Unresting death, a whole day nearer now, Making all thought impossible but how And where and when I shall myself die. Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse —The good not done, the love not given, time Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never; But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here, Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound, No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with, Nothing to love or link with, The anaesthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision, A small unfocused blur, a standing chill That slows each impulse down to indecision. Most things may never happen: this one will, And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape. It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know, Have always known, know that we can’t escape, Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
Philip Larkin, "Aubade" from Collected Poems. Copyright © Estate of Philip Larkin. Reprinted by permission of Faber and Faber, Ltd.
In this episode, Jenny talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Mushrooms' by Sylvia Plath.
Jenny joined The Poetry Exchange online and is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and John Prebble.
Fiona reads the gift reading of 'Mushrooms'.
Mushrooms by Sylvia Plath
Overnight, very Whitely, discreetly, Very quietly
Our toes, our noses Take hold on the loam, Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us, Stops us, betrays us; The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on Heaving the needles, The leafy bedding,
Even the paving. Our hammers, our rams, Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless, Widen the crannies, Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water, On crumbs of shadow, Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing. So many of us! So many of us!
We are shelves, we are Tables, we are meek, We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers In spite of ourselves. Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning Inherit the earth. Our foot’s in the door.
From Collected Poems (1981) by Sylvia Plath, published by Faber and Faber Ltd.
For more information surrounding our upcoming event, 'In The Company of Poems', please visit www.thepoetryexchange.co.uk
In this episode, Pádraig Ó Tuama talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Cuimhne An Uisce' / 'A Recovered Memory of Water' by Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, translated by Paul Muldoon.
Pádraig Ó Tuama is a poet and theologian from Ireland whose poetry and prose has been published widely across Ireland, the US and the UK. He presents Poetry Unbound with On Being, a hugely successful podcast where he explores a single poem. Short and unhurried; contemplative and energizing, this podcast had more than a million downloads of its first season. The second season began 28th September 2020, with new episodes released on Mondays and Fridays for twelve weeks.
www.padraigotuama.com https://onbeing.org/series/poetry-unbound Pádraig joined The Poetry Exchange online and is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer. Many thanks to Gallery Press for granting us permission to share the poem in this capacity. Do visit them for more inspiration here:
www.gallerypress.com
Fiona reads the gift reading of 'A Recovered Memory of Water'.
Cuimhne An Uisce / A Recovered Memory of Water by Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, translated by Paul Muldoon
Sometimes when the mermaid’s daughter is in the bathroom cleaning her teeth with a thick brush and baking soda she has the sense the room is filling with water.
It starts at her feet and ankles and slides further and further up over her thighs and hips and waist. In no time it’s up to her oxters. She bends down into it to pick up handtowels and washcloths and all such things as are sodden with it. They all look like seaweed— like those long strands of kelp that used to be called ‘mermaid-hair’ or ‘foxtail.’ Just as suddenly the water recedes and in no time the room’s completely dry again.
A terrible sense of stress is part and parcel of these emotions. At the end of the day she has nothing else to compare it to. She doesn’t have the vocabulary for any of it. At her weekly therapy session she has more than enough to be going on with just to describe this strange phenomenon and to express it properly to the psychiatrist.
She doesn’t have the terminology or any of the points of reference or any word at all that would give the slightest suggestion as to what water might be. ‘A transparent liquid,’ she says, doing as best she can. ‘Right,’ says the therapist, ‘keep going.’ He coaxes and cajoles her towards word-making. She has another run at it. ‘A thin flow,’ she calls it, casting about gingerly in the midst of the words. ‘A shiny film. Dripping stuff. Something wet.’
From 'The Fifty Minute Mermaid', Gallery Press, 2007.
In this episode, Charlie talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'A Short Story of Falling' by Alice Oswald. Charlie joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our 'Lockdown Exchanges' and is in conversation with Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett Alistair Snell. Many thanks to Alice Oswald and United Agents for granting us permission to share the poem in this capacity. Find out more about Alice and her work here:
www.unitedagents.co.uk/alice-oswald
Al reads the gift reading of 'A Short Story of Falling'.
A Short Story of Falling
It is the story of the falling rain to turn into a leaf and fall again
it is the secret of a summer shower to steal the light and hide it in a flower
and every flower a tiny tributary that from the ground flows green and momentary
is one of water's wishes and this tale hangs in a seed-head smaller than my thumbnail
if only I a passerby could pass as clear as water through a plume of grass
to find the sunlight hidden at the tip turning to seed a kind of lifting rain drip
then I might know like water how to balance the weight of hope against the light of patience
water which is so raw so earthy-strong and lurks in cast-iron tanks and leaks along
drawn under gravity towards my tongue to cool and fill the pipe-work of this song
which is the story of the falling rain that rises to the light and falls again
Reprinted by permission of Alice Oswald and United Agents Source: Falling Awake (W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2016)
In this episode, world-renowned actor, Brian Cox CBE talks with us about two poems that have been friends to him – 'Ae Fond Kiss' by Robert Burns and 'I am' by John Clare.
Brian joined The Poetry Exchange online, from his home, over the course of lockdown in 2020. He is a Scottish actor who works in film, television and theatre, and as a multiple award-winner, has gained huge respect in the industry for the many captivating roles he has undertaken. He currently stars in HBO's critically acclaimed television series, 'Succession'.
Michael reads the gift reading of 'I Am'.
Ae Fond Kiss by Robert Burns
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy; But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met—or never parted— We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace. enjoyment, love, and pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!
I Am by John Clare
I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
In this episode, Forward Prize-winning poet Vahni Capildeo talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to them – 'Spring and Fall' by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
Vahni joined The Poetry Exchange online, from their family home in Trinidad, as part of City of Literature - a week of conversations, reflections and connections presented by the National Centre for Writing and Norfolk & Norwich Festival. www.nnfestival.org.uk www.nationalcentreforwriting.org.uk
Vahni Capildeo is a Trinidadian Scottish writer inspired by other voices, ranging from live Caribbean connexions and an Indian diaspora background to the landscapes where Capildeo travels and lives. Their poetry includes Measures of Expatriation, awarded the Forward Prize for Best Collection in 2016, and Venus as a Bear, published in 2018.
You can discover more about and purchase Vahni Capildeo's work at the Carcanet website (Vahni's publisher): https://www.carcanet.co.uk/cgi-bin/indexer?owner_id=1167
Michael Shaeffer reads the gift reading of Spring and Fall.
You will also hear Fiona mention some new publications by members of our creative team:
Andrea Witzke Slot's 'The Ministry of Flowers' is published by Valley Press: https://www.valleypressuk.com/book-info.php?book_id=146
Victoria Field's 'A Speech of Birds' is published by Francis Boutle: https://francisboutle.co.uk/products/a-speech-of-birds/
Sarah Salway's 'Let's Dance' is published by Coast to Coast, Spring 2021 and 'Not Sorry', a collection of flash fiction, is published by Valley Press Spring/Summer 2021. www.sarahsalway.co.uk
Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins
to a young child
Márgarét, áre you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leáves like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! ás the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you wíll weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It ís the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for.
In this episode, Lucy talks with us about the poem that has been a friend to her – "Hope is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson. Emily joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our 'Lockdown Exchanges' that took place as part of City of Literature - a week of conversations, reflections and connections presented by the National Centre for Writing and Norfolk & Norwich Festival. Many thanks to our partners, the National Centre for Writing and Norfolk & Norwich Festival for enabling this to go ahead in spite of the physical restrictions. Do visit them for more inspiration: www.nnfestival.org.uk www.nationalcentreforwriting.org.uk
Please also visit Lucy's website, 'The Rainbow Poems' to discover a space dedicated to sharing a colourful array of poems:
www.therainbowpoems.co.uk
Fiona reads the gift reading of "Hope" is the thing with feathers.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314) by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.
Emily Dickinson, "'Hope' is the Thing with Feathers" from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson, ed., Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University press, Copyright © 1951, 1955, 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College.
In this episode, Stephen Beresford talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Vers De Société' by Philip Larkin. Stephen visited The Poetry Exchange in London. He is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett. Stephen is a highly acclaimed Film, TV and Theatre Writer. Find out more about Stephen and his work here: www.independenttalent.com/writers/stephen-beresford/
Michael reads the gift reading of 'Vers De Société'.
My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps To come and waste their time and ours: perhaps You’d care to join us? In a pig’s arse, friend. Day comes to an end. The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed. And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I’m afraid—
Funny how hard it is to be alone. I could spend half my evenings, if I wanted, Holding a glass of washing sherry, canted Over to catch the drivel of some bitch Who’s read nothing but Which; Just think of all the spare time that has flown
Straight into nothingness by being filled With forks and faces, rather than repaid Under a lamp, hearing the noise of wind, And looking out to see the moon thinned To an air-sharpened blade. A life, and yet how sternly it’s instilled
All solitude is selfish. No one now Believes the hermit with his gown and dish Talking to God (who’s gone too); the big wish Is to have people nice to you, which means Doing it back somehow. Virtue is social. Are, then, these routines
Playing at goodness, like going to church? Something that bores us, something we don’t do well (Asking that ass about his fool research) But try to feel, because, however crudely, It shows us what should be? Too subtle, that. Too decent, too. Oh hell,
Only the young can be alone freely. The time is shorter now for company, And sitting by a lamp more often brings Not peace, but other things. Beyond the light stand failure and remorse Whispering Dear Warlock-Williams: Why, of course—
Philip Larkin, "Vers de Société" from Collected Poems. Copyright © Estate of Philip Larkin. Reprinted by permission of Faber and Faber, Ltd.
Photo Credit: Rory Campbell Photography
In this episode, Adrian talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Fern Hill' by Dylan Thomas. Adrian joined The Poetry Exchange online, via video call, for one of our 'Lockdown Exchanges' that took place as part of City of Literature - a week of conversations, reflections and connections presented by the National Centre for Writing and Norfolk & Norwich Festival. Many thanks to our partners, the National Centre for Writing and Norfolk & Norwich Festival for enabling this to go ahead in spite of the physical restrictions. Do visit them for more inspiration: www.nnfestival.org.uk www.nationalcentreforwriting.org.uk
Our thanks also to David Higham Associates and Dylan Thomas Trust for permission to share the poem. For more information about the poet and his work, please visit:
www.discoverdylanthomas.com
Adrian is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michal Shaeffer.
Michael reads the gift reading of 'Fern Hill'.
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with daisies and barley Down the rivers of the windfall light.
And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home, In the sun that is young once only, Time let me play and be Golden in the mercy of his means, And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold, And the sabbath rang slowly In the pebbles of the holy streams.
All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air And playing, lovely and watery And fire green as grass. And nightly under the simple stars As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away, All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars Flying with the ricks, and the horses Flashing into the dark.
And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all Shining, it was Adam and maiden, The sky gathered again And the sun grew round that very day. So it must have been after the birth of the simple light In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm Out of the whinnying green stable On to the fields of praise.
And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long, In the sun born over and over, I ran my heedless ways, My wishes raced through the house high hay And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs Before the children green and golden Follow him out of grace,
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand, In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him fly with the high fields And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land. Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
In this episode, Rachel Eliza Griffiths talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – Remember by Joy Harjo.
Rachel Eliza visited The Poetry Exchange 'long distance' in an online conversation between London and New York. She is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.
We are very grateful to Rachel Eliza for allowing us to share the conversation with you, and to Joy Harjo and W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. for their permission to feature 'Remember.'
'Remember' can be found in She Had Some Horses: Poems by Joy Harjo, 2008, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. www.wwnorton.co.uk/books/9780393334210-she-had-some-horses
Rachel Eliza Griffiths is a multi-media artist, poet, and writer.
Her literary and visual work has been widely published in journals, magazines, anthologies, and periodicals including The New Yorker, The Paris Review, The New York Times, Poets & Writers, Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry, Best American Poetry 2020, and many others.
Griffiths is widely known for her literary portraits, fine art photography, and lyric videos. Her extensive video project, P.O.P (Poets on Poetry), an intimate series of micro-interviews, gathers nearly 100 contemporary poets in conversation, and is featured online by the Academy of American Poets.
Griffiths is the author of Miracle Arrhythmia (Willow Books 2010) and The Requited Distance (The Sheep Meadow Press 2011). Griffiths’ third collection of poetry, Mule & Pear (New Issues Poetry & Prose 2011), was selected for the 2012 Inaugural Poetry Award by the Black Caucus of the American Library Association. Her most recent full-length poetry collection is Lighting the Shadow (Four Way Books 2015), which was a finalist for the 2015 Balcones Poetry Prize and the 2016 Phillis Wheatley Book Award in Poetry.
Her forthcoming collection of poetry and photography, Seeing the Body, will be published by W. W. Norton in June 2020.
www.rachelelizagriffiths.com
Remember is read by Fiona Bennett.
Remember by Joy Harjo
Remember the sky that you were born under, know each of the star's stories. Remember the moon, know who she is. Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the strongest point of time. Remember sundown and the giving away to night. Remember your birth, how your mother struggled to give you form and breath. You are evidence of her life, and her mother's, and hers. Remember your father. He is your life, also. Remember the earth whose skin you are: red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth brown earth, we are earth. Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them, listen to them. They are alive poems. Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the origin of this universe. Remember you are all people and all people are you. Remember you are this universe and this universe is you. Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you. Remember language comes from this. Remember the dance language is, that life is. Remember.
'Remember' reproduced from She Had Some Horses: Poems by Joy Harjo (c) 2008 by Joy Harjo. Used with permission of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.
Then or Now - the episode featuring the poetry of Adrienne Rich and our collaboration with Ballet Black is no longer available, since we hope to be able to announce details soon of the full dance production! More news soon!
We are delighted to share a special edition of The Poetry Exchange podcast featuring the score from Ballet Black’s new piece, Then or Now, choreographed by William Tuckett, which would have had its world premiere at The Barbican, London, on March 26th.
The score features poems by Adrienne Rich and the music of Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber (1644-1704), played by solo violinist Daniel Pioro. Poetry Direction is by The Poetry Exchange’s Founder and Director, Fiona Bennett and poems are voiced by Natasha Gordon, Michael Shaeffer and Hafsah Annela Bashir.
It is with great thanks to the Adrienne Rich Estate and all the artists involved that we are able to share this unique collaboration between Ballet Black and The Poetry Exchange with you as a prelude to the full experience, once the ballet can be performed.
Adrienne Rich is one of the greatest modern poets of our time. She was a tireless activist and ambassador for human rights and social justice. She was an active force in the Civil Rights Movement, a leading voice in the Feminist Movement and spoke out against all forms of oppression and injustice. Her exemplary approach to political activism, her scholarly and artistic integrity make her a highly relevant and vital source of inspiration for our time. She died in 2012 and her legacy is a defining force in the ongoing development of poetry.
You can find out more about the life and work of Adrienne Rich through the Adrienne Rich Literary Trust here: www.adriennerich.net
We are grateful to The Adrienne Rich Literary Trust and W.W. Norton and Company, Inc. for granting us permission to feature poems from Dark Fields of the Republic. Dark Fields of the Republic is published by W.W. Norton and available here: www.wwnorton.co.uk/books/9780393313987-dark-fields-of-the-republic.
Many thanks to the wonderful Ballet Black and The Barbican. Find out more about their work below, and to stay updated with rescheduled ‘Then or Now’ performance dates:
www.balletblack.co.uk www.barbican.org.uk
The extraordinary work of violinist, Daniel Pioro can also be found here: www.danielpioro.com/
Below is ‘What Kind of Times Are These’ by Adrienne Rich - the opening poem from 'Dark Fields' of the Republic, and this episode.
Photo credit: Camilla Greenwell and Ballet Black
What Kind of Times Are These By Adrienne Rich
There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted who disappeared into those shadows.
I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here, our country moving closer to its own truth and dread, its own ways of making people disappear.
I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods meeting the unmarked strip of light— ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise: I already know who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.
And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these to have you listen at all, it's necessary to talk about trees.
In this episode, Laura Wade talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Ashes of Life' by Edna St. Vincent Millay. We are very grateful to Laura for allowing us to share this conversation with you.
Laura visited The Poetry Exchange in London. She is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.
Laura Wade is an Olivier award winning playwright and screenwriter. Her National Theatre play HOME, I’M DARLING premiered at Theatr Clwyd in 2018 before playing at the National, where it received rave reviews. HOME, I’M DARLING won the award for Best New Comedy at the 2019 Oliviers.
Laura’s screenplay THE RIOT CLUB, an adaptation of her acclaimed 2010 stage play POSH, opened in cinemas on September 2014. The film is directed by Lone Scherfig and stars Max Irons, Sam Claflin and Douglas Booth.
Laura has also adapted Sarah Waters’ TIPPING THE VELVET for the stage and in 2018, Laura adapted Jane Austen’s unfinished novel THE WATSONS for the stage for Chichester Festival Theatre.
You can find out more about Edna St. Vincent Millay and read more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/edna-st-vincent-millay
Ashes of Life is read by Laura at the beginning of the conversation, with the gift reading of the poem by Fiona Bennett.
Ashes of Life
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike; Eat I must, and sleep I will, — and would that night were here! But ah! — to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike! Would that it were day again! — with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do; This or that or what you will is all the same to me; But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through, — There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me, — and the neighbors knock and borrow, And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse, — And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow There's this little street and this little house.
In this episode, Sam talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'The Hug' by Thom Gunn. Sam visited The Poetry Exchange in Manchester Central Library, as part of the celebrations of International Mother Language Day in the city. Many thanks to our partners Manchester Poetry Library, Manchester Libraries and Manchester UNESCO City of Literature. www2.mmu.ac.uk/poetrylibrary www.manchester.gov.uk/libraries www.manchestercityofliterature.com Sam is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Sarah Butler and Alistair Snell.
Sarah reads the gift reading of 'The Hug'.
The Hug It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined Half of the night with our old friend Who'd showed us in the end To a bed I reached in one drunk stride. Already I lay snug, And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.
I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug, Suddenly, from behind, In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed: Your instep to my heel, My shoulder-blades against your chest. It was not sex, but I could feel The whole strength of your body set, Or braced, to mine, And locking me to you As if we were still twenty-two When our grand passion had not yet Become familial. My quick sleep had deleted all Of intervening time and place. I only knew The stay of your secure firm dry embrace. Thom Gunn, "The Hug" from The Man with Night Sweats. Copyright © 1992 by Thom Gunn. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC, http://us.macmillan.com/fsg. All rights reserved
In this episode, Victoria talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost.
Victoria visited The Poetry Exchange in Battersea, London in 2019.
Victoria is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' is read by Fiona Bennett.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
In this episode, Laura talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'The Fury of Overshoes' by Anne Sexton. Our thanks to the Anne Sexton Estate and Sterling Lord Literistic Agency for allowing us to share the poem with you in this way. www.sll.com
Laura Furner is an arts producer living and working in London. A commended poet for the Foyle Young Poet of the Year Award in 2012, Laura went on to edit and publish work in the University of Leeds' creative arts magazine The Scribe, and has since worked with The Poetry Society and Poet in the City. She is currently producing a new spoken word show for VAULT Festival 2020. You can follow Laura on twitter @laurahjayne
Laura visited The Poetry Exchange at London Podcast Festival at Kings Place in 2019. www.kingsplace.co.uk
Laura is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Andrea Witzke-Slot and Al Snell. Andrea reads the gift reading of 'The Fury of Overshoes.'
The Fury Of Overshoes
They sit in a row outside the kindergarten, black, red, brown, all with those brass buckles. Remember when you couldn't buckle your own overshoe or tie your own overshoe or tie your own shoe or cut your own meat and the tears running down like mud because you fell off your tricycle? Remember, big fish, when you couldn't swim and simply slipped under like a stone frog? The world wasn't yours. It belonged to the big people. Under your bed sat the wolf and he made a shadow when cars passed by at night. They made you give up your nightlight and your teddy and your thumb. Oh overshoes, don't you remember me, pushing you up and down in the winter snow? Oh thumb, I want a drink, it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there, taking giant steps all day, each day and thinking nothing of it?
Reproduced by permission of SLL/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc. Copyright Linda Gray Sexton and Loring Conant, Jr. 1981.
In this episode, Prasanna talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Seachange' by Kate Genevieve. Thank you to Kate Genevieve for giving us permission to share her poem. Find out more about Kate and her work here: Website: www.kategenevieve.com Twitter: @kategenevieve
Prasanna visited The Poetry Exchange in London. He is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett. Michael reads the gift reading of 'Seachange'.
Seachange For LP
Perhaps we are riding the moon’s path Along the sea edge Where things are less clear And more alive?
My heart as full as the sea Follows the shore line with certainty. For here is a path drawn by desire. A route touched by your darkness, And mine.
Moon-struck. Lit up by her generosity, Touched by the light of strangers Together with the old smile of wrinkled mountains And all the living beings multiplying. Something special grows in the emptiness - Not innocence returned - But wholeness, Gold-seamed.
this night This Day On which so many doors fall open.
Let go! The ocean ever rushes in to fill space revealed With unforced irrepressible energy.
We can no more control a life's story Than we can command the animals Or hold back the tides Or ordain the fated meetings of the world. The door only opens at the right time.
Instead, receive the gifts of sea-change: Take the moon-lit path along the shore And meet what's fresh returning. At one with Earth's desires Awake to everything that's growing.
The mountain smiles. She knows It is more than time alone Heals shattered pieces: It is the gift of other beings. For suffering dissolves into the fullness of night, With the memory that the dark bright night Shines with love. May all have eyes to see, ears to hear, This night - As full as the sea - Beyond sense and naming.
In this episode, John talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'The Death by Heroin of Sid Vicious' by Paul Durcan. John visited The Poetry Exchange in London. He is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett. John is a highly acclaimed film, TV and Theatre Director. Find out more about John and his work here: www.casarotto.co.uk/clients/john-crowley
Fiona reads the gift reading of 'The Death by Heroin of Sid Vicious'.
The Death by Heroin of Sid Vicious by Paul Durcan
There – but for the clutch of luck – go I.
At daybreak – in the arctic fog of a February daybreak – Shoulder-length helmets in the watchtowers of the concentration camp Caught me out in the intersecting arcs of the swirling searchlights.
There were at least a zillion of us caught out there – Like ladybirds under a boulder – But under the microscope each of us was unique,
Unique and we broke for cover, crazily breasting The barbed wire and some of us made it To the forest edge, but many of us did not
Make it, although their unborn children did – Such as you whom the camp commandant branded Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols. Jesus, break his fall:
There – but for the clutch of luck – go we all.
In this episode, Alida talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'De Ceder' / 'The Cedar' by Han G. Hoekstra. You will hear the poem in Dutch and in an English translation by Alida herself.
Alida visited The Poetry Exchange at London Podcast Festival 2019 at Kings Place. Our thanks to both for hosting us so warmly and attentively.
www.kingsplace.co.uk
Our thanks also to Meulenhoff for granting us permission to share the poem with you. You can find 'De Ceder' in the original Dutch along with many other works by Han G. Hoekstra at dbnl.org - digitale bibliotheek vor de Nederlandse letteren:
www.dbnl.org/tekst/hoek017pano01_01/hoek017pano01_01_0002.php
Dr. Alida Gersie is a widely published author and world authority on therapeutic story-work, the arts therapies, the uses of the arts in health and popular education. She designed and directed Postgraduate Arts Therapies training programmes at universities in the UK and abroad. Since the 1970’s she has advised leading thinkers on the uses of story to encourage pro-environmental policy and behavioural change. Alida is editor of and contributor to Storytelling for a Greener world: Environment, Community and Story-Based Learning. Stroud: Hawthorn Press, 2014.
www.hawthornpress.com/authors/alida-gersie/
Alida is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Andrea Witzke-Slot and Al Snell.
Al reads the gift reading of 'The Cedar'.
De Ceder by Han G. Hoekstra
Ik heb een ceder in mijn tuin geplant. gij kunt hem zien, gij schijnt het niet te willen. Een binnenplaats, meesmuilt ge, sintels, schillen. en schimmel die een blinde muur aanrandt, er is geen boom, alleen een grauwe wand. Hij is er, zeg ik, en mijn stem gaat trillen, Ik heb een ceder in mijn tuin geplant, Gij kunt hem zien, gij schijnt het niet te willen,
Ik wijs naar buiten, waar zijn ranke, prille stam in het herfstlicht staat, onaangerand, niet te benaderen voor noodlots grillen. geen macht ter wereld kan het droombeeld drillen. Ik heb been ceder in mijn tuin geplant.
From 'Panopticum', Meulenhoff, 1946.
The Cedar by Han G. Hoekstra translated by Alida Gersie
I have planted a cedar in my garden’s soil. you too could see it, but it seems you don’t want to. A yard, you snigger, slags and rot, There’s mould that festers on the blinding wall. There is no tree, a drab divider, nothing more. It is there, I say, and my voice now trembles, You too could see it, but it seems you don’t want to.
I point outside, where its slender, tender trunk stands in radiant autumn’s glow, untouched, and way beyond doom’s fickle tricks. No worldly force can erode this vision. I have planted a cedar in my garden’s soil.
In this special feature length episode, recorded live at Latitude Festival, Nadine Shah and Hannah Jane Walker talk about the poems that have been friends to them.
Nadine and Hannah are in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett. You can find out more about the brilliant work Nadine and Hannah create here:
www.nadineshah.co.uk www.hannahjanewalker.co.uk
This is our first live show episode and features work by Philip Larkin, Elizabeth Alexander, Salena Godden and WB Yeats.
Hannah reads the gift reading of 'Days' by Philip Larkin.
Nadine reads the gift reading of 'Pessimism is for Lightweights' by Salena Godden.
Discover more about Salena's work here: www.salenagodden.co.uk and find her collection, 'Pessimism is for Lightweights' here: www.roughtrade.com/gb/salena-godde…or-lightweights
You can also find 'Ars Poetica #100: I Believe' by Elizabeth Alexander in her 'American Sublime' collection: www.graywolfpress.org/books/american-sublimeand discover more about her work here: www.poets.org/poet/elizabeth-alexander
We had a brilliant time as part of The Listening Post at Latitude Festival 2019 and are delighted to be sharing it with you, through The Poetry Exchange Podcast. Discover more about Latitude and dates for next year's festival here:
www.latitudefestival.com
Days by Philip Larkin
What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields.
Pessimism is for Lightweights By Salena Godden
Think of those that marched this road before And those that will march here in years to come The road in shadow and the road in the sun The road before us and the road all done History is watching us and what will we become
This road is all flags and milestones Immigrant blood and sweat and tears Build this city, built this country Made this road last all these years
This road is made of protest And those not permitted to vote And those that are still fighting to speak With a boot stamping on their throat
There is power and strength in optimism To have faith and to stay true to you Because if you can look in the mirror And have belief and promise you Will share wonder in living things Beauty, dreams, books and art Love your neighbour and be kind And have an open heart
Then you're already winning at living You speak up, you show up and stand tall It's silence that is complicit It's apathy that hurts us all
Pessimism is for lightweights There is no straight white line It's the bumps and curves and obstacles That make this time yours and mine
Pessimism is for lightweights This road was never easy and straight And living is all about living alive and lively And love will conquer hate.
In this episode, Farah talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'O Captain! My Captain!' by Walt Whitman.
Farah visited The Poetry Exchange in London. She is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.
Fiona reads the gift reading of 'O Captain! my Captain!'
Fiona also mentions 'The Brittle Sea' by Paul Henry as part of this epsiode, which is available from Seren Books: https://www.serenbooks.com/productdisplay/brittle-sea
O Captain! my Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
In this episode, Yasmin talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – ‘The Guest House' by Rumi.
We’re delighted to feature ‘The Guest House’ in this episode and would like to thank the poem's Translator, Coleman Barks for granting us permission to share the poem in this way. Discover more about him and his work here:
www.colemanbarks.com
You can find ‘The Guest House’ in SELECTED POEMS by Rumi, Translated by Coleman Barks (Penguin Classics, 2004). Reproduced by permission of Coleman Barks.
Yasmin visited The Poetry Exchange at Manchester Central Library, as part of the celebrations of International Mother Languages Day in the city.
Many thanks to our partners Manchester Libraries, Archives Plus, The Manchester Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University and Manchester UNESCO City of Literature.
www.manchester.gov.uk/libraries www.archivesplus.org/about-archives/ www.manchesterwritingschool.co.uk/ www.manchestercityofliterature.com/
Yasmin is the Founder and Editor in chief of Halcyon: a creative space aimed at empowering Muslim women. Discover more here:
www.halcyonmaguk.com
She is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.
Fiona reads the gift reading of 'The Guest House'.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
In this episode, poet John McAuliffe talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Mathios Paskalis Among The Roses' by George Seferis.
We’re delighted to feature ‘Mathios Paskalis Among The Roses’ in this episode and would like to thank Princeton University Press for granting us permission to share the poem in this way.
You can find “Mathios Paskalis Among the Roses” from GEORGE SEFERIS: Collected Poems 1924-1955. Bilingual edition, translated, edited, and introduced by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Copyright © 1967, renewed 1995 by Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission.
John visited The Poetry Exchange at Manchester Central Library, as part of the celebrations of International Mother Languages Day in the city.
Many thanks to our partners Manchester Libraries, Archives Plus, The Manchester Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University and Manchester UNESCO City of Literature.
https://www.manchester.gov.uk/libraries http://www.archivesplus.org/about-archives/ http://www.manchesterwritingschool.co.uk/ http://www.manchestercityofliterature.com/
You can find more about John and his poetry here: https://www.gallerypress.com/authors/m-to-n/john-mcauliffe/
John is also Professor of Creative Writing at The University of Manchester’s Centre for New Writing https://www.research.manchester.ac.uk/portal/john.mcauliffe.html
John is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Al Snell.
'Mathios Paskalis Among The Roses' by George Seferis
I've been smoking steadily all morning if I stop the roses will embrace me they'll choke me with thorns and fallen petals they grow crookedly, each with the same rose colour they gaze, expecting to see someone go by; no one goes by. Behind the smoke of my pipe I watch them scentless on their weary stems. In the other life a woman said to me: 'You can touch this hand, and this rose is yours, it's yours, you can take it now or later, whenever you like'.
I go down the steps smoking still, and the roses follow me down excited and in their manner there's something of that voice at the root of a cry, there where one starts shouting 'mother' or 'help' or the small white cries of love.
It's a small white garden full of roses a few square yards descending with me as I go down the steps, without the sky; and her aunt would say to her: 'Antigone, you forgot your exercises today, at your age I never wore corsets, not in my time.' Her aunt was a pitiful creature: veins in relief, wrinkles all around her ears, a nose ready to die; but her words were always full of prudence. One day I saw her touching Antigone's breast like a small child stealing an apple.
Is it possible that I'll meet the old woman now as I go down? She said to me as I left: 'Who knows when we''ll meet again?' And then I read of her death in old newspapers of Antigone's marriage and the marriage of Antigone's daughter without the steps coming to an end or my tobacco which leaves on my lips the taste of a haunted ship with a mermaid crucified to the wheel while she was still beautiful.
“Mathios Paskalis Among the Roses” from GEORGE SEFERIS: Collected Poems 1924-1955. Bilingual edition, translated, edited, and introduced by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Copyright © 1967, renewed 1995 by Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission.
In this episode, Hannah talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – ‘Of Mutability’ by Jo Shapcott.
We’re delighted to feature ‘Of Mutability’ in this episode and would like to thank Faber & Faber for granting us permission to share the poem in this way.
You can find ‘Of Mutability’ in OF MUTABILITY by Jo Shapcott (Faber & Faber, 2011). Reproduced by permission of Faber & Faber.
Hannah visited The Poetry Exchange at Manchester Central Library, as part of the celebrations of International Mother Languages Day in the city.
Many thanks to our partners Manchester Libraries, Archives Plus, The Manchester Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University and Manchester UNESCO City of Literature.
https://www.manchester.gov.uk/libraries http://www.archivesplus.org/about-archives/ http://www.manchesterwritingschool.co.uk/ http://www.manchestercityofliterature.com/
Hannah is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.
‘Of Mutability’
Too many of the best cells in my body are itching, feeling jagged, turning raw in this spring chill. It’s two thousand and four and I don’t know a soul who doesn’t feel small among the numbers. Razor small.
Look down these days to see your feet mistrust the pavement and your blood tests turn the doctor’s expression grave. Look up to catch eclipses, gold leaf, comets, angels, chandeliers, out of the corner of your eye, join them if you like, learn astrophysics, or learn folksong, human sacrifice, mortality, flying, fishing, sex without touching much. Don’t trouble, though, to head anywhere but the sky.
In this episode, Angela talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – ‘The force that through the green fuse' by Dylan Thomas.
We’re delighted to feature ‘The force that through the green fuse drives the flower’ in this episode and would like to thank Weidenfeld and Nicolson for granting us permission to share the poem in this way.
You can find ‘The force that through the green fuse drives the flower’ in The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas: the Centenary Edition, published by Weidenfeld and Nicolson, copyright holder The Dylan Thomas Trust.
www.discoverdylanthomas.com
Angela visited The Poetry Exchange at Manchester Central Library, as part of the celebrations of International Mother Languages Day in the city.
Many thanks to our partners Manchester Libraries, Archives Plus, The Manchester Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University and Manchester UNESCO City of Literature.
https://www.manchester.gov.uk/libraries http://www.archivesplus.org/about-archives/ http://www.manchesterwritingschool.co.uk/ http://www.manchestercityofliterature.com/
Angela is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.
‘The force that through the green fuse drives the flower' by Dylan Thomas
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams Turns mine to wax. And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind Hauls my shroud sail. And I am dumb to tell the hanging man How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head; Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood Shall calm her sores. And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
In this episode, Mark talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – ‘Barcarole' by Pablo Neruda - translated by Robert Hass.
We’re delighted to feature ‘Barcarole’ in this episode and would like to thank Agencia Literaria Carmen Balcells, City Lights Books and Frederick Courtright for granting us permission to share the poem in this way.
www.agenciabalcells.com www.citylights.com www.permissionscompany.com
You can find ‘Barcarole’ in ‘The Essential Neruda’ - Selected Poems - edited by Mark Eisner, published by Bloodaxe Books in the UK and City Lights Books in the US.
https://www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/the-essential-neruda-957
http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100907730
Mark is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Alison McManus.
Michael Shaeffer reads the gift reading of ‘Barcarole'.
Barcarole
If only you would touch my heart, if only you were to put your mouth to my heart, your delicate mouth, your teeth, if you were to put your tongue like a red arrow there where my dusty heart is beating, if you were to blow on my heart near the sea, weeping, it would make a dark noise, like the drowsy sound of train wheels, like the indecision of waters, like autumn in full leaf, like blood, with a noise of damp flames burning the sky, with a sound like dreams or branches or the rain, or foghorns in some dismal port, if you were to blow on my heart near the sea, like a white ghost, in the spume of the wave, in the middle of the wind, like a ghost unleashed, at the seashore, weeping.
Like a long absence, like a sudden bell, the sea doles out the sound of the heart, raining, darkening at sundown, on a lonely coast: no question that night falls and its mournful blue of the flags of shipwrecks peoples itself with planets of throaty silver.
And the heart sounds like a sour conch calls, oh sea, oh lament, oh molten panic, scattered in the unlucky and dishevelled waves: The sea reports sonorously on its languid shadows, its green poppies.
If you existed, suddenly, on a mournful coast, surrounded by the dead day, facing into a new night, filled with waves, and if you were to blow on my cold and frightened heart, if you were to blow on the lonely blood of my heart, if you were to blow on its motion of doves in flame, its black syllables of blood would ring out, its incessant red waters would come to flood, and it would ring out, ring out with shadows, ring out like death, cry out like a tube filled with wind or weeping, like a shaken bottle spurting fear.
So that's how it is, and the lightning would glint in your braids and the rain would come in through your open eyes to ready the weeping you shut up dumbly and the black wings of the sea would wheel round you, with its great talons and its rush and its cawing.
Do you want to be the solitary ghost blowing, by the sea its sad instrument? If only you would call, a long sound, a bewitching whistle, a sequence of wounded waves, maybe some one would come, (someone would come,) from the peaks of the islands, from the red depths of the sea, someone would come, someone would come. Someone would come, blow fiercely, so that it sounds like a siren of some battered ship, like lamentation, like neighing in the midst of the foam and blood, like ferocious water gnashing and sounding.
In the marine season its conch of shadow spirals like a shout, the seabirds ignore it and fly off, its roll call of sounds, its mournful rings rise on the shores of the lonely sea.
In this episode, Katharine talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – ‘Dich’ / ‘You’ by Erich Fried.
We are delighted to feature ‘Dich’ / ‘You’ in this episode and would like to thank Verlag Klaus Wagenbach for allowing us to use it in this way.
https://www.wagenbach.de
Katharine visited The Poetry Exchange at St Chad's College Chapel in Durham, during Durham Book Festival, in association with Durham University Foundation Programme. We’re very grateful to all our Durham partners for hosting us so warmly.
www.durhambookfestival.com www.dur.ac.uk/foundation.programme www.stchads.ac.uk
Katharine is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Michael Shaeffer and Andrea Witzke-Slot.
‘Dich’ / ‘You' is read by Michael Shaeffer.
Dich By Eric Fried
Dich dich sein lassen ganz dich
Sehen, daß du nur du bist wenn du alles bist was du bist das Zarte und das Wilde das was sich anschmiegen und das was sich loßreißen will
Wer nur die Hälfte liebt der liebt dich nicht halb sondern gar nicht der will dich zurechtschneiden amputieren verstümmeln
Dich dich sein lassen ob das schwer oder leicht ist? Es kommt nicht darauf an mit wieviel Vorbedacht und Verstand sondern mit wieviel Liebe und mit wieviel offener Sehnsucht nach allem – nach allem was du ist
Nach der Wärme und nach der Kälte nach der Güte und nach dem Starrsinn nach deinem Willen und Unwillen nach jeder deiner Gebärden nach deiner Ungebärdigkeit Unstetigkeit Stetigkeit
Dann ist dieses dich dich sein lassen vielleicht gar nicht so schwer
‘Dich’ by Erich Fried from 'Es ist was es ist’ © 1983 Verlag Klaus Wagenbach, Berlin
Below is a translation of the poem, published in ‘Love Poems’ by Erich Fried, trans. Stuart Hood, available from Alma Classics. https://almabooks.com/product/love-poems-3/?imprintname=Alma%20Classics
You By Erich Fried
You to let you be you all you To see that you are only you when you’re everything that you are the tender one and the wild one that wants to break free and wants to come close Whoever loves the half loves you not by half but not at all wants to cut you to size to amputate to maim you To let you be you is it hard or easy? It’s not a matter of how much forethought and understanding but of how much love and how much open longing for everything – for all that is you For the warmth and the coldness for the goodness and obstinacy for your wilfulness and unwillingness for each of your gestures for your awkwardness inconstancy constancy Then this letting you be you maybe isn’t so difficult after all
Fried, Erich. Love Poems (Alma Classics)
The extract about translation quoted by Fiona on the Intro to this episode is from Kiki Dimoula’s book The Brazen Plagiarist, selected poems translated by Cecile Inglessis Margellos and Rika Lesser published by Yale University Press.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Hannah talk about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'This Be The Verse' by Philip Larkin.
We are delighted to feature 'This Be The Verse' in this episode and would like to thank Faber and Faber for allowing us to use it in this way.
Hannah visited The Poetry Exchange at St Chad's College Chapel in Durham, during Durham Book Festival, in association with Durham University Foundation Programme. We’re very grateful to all our Durham partners for hosting us so warmly.
www.durhambookfestival.com www.dur.ac.uk/foundation.programme/ www.stchads.ac.uk
Hannah is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, John Prebble and Michael Shaeffer.
'This Be The Verse' is read by Michael Shaeffer.
This Be The Verse By Philip Larkin
They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don’t have any kids yourself.
Philip Larkin, "This Be the Verse" from Collected Poems. Copyright © Estate of Philip Larkin. Reproduced by permission of Faber and Faber, Ltd.
Source: The Complete Poems (Faber and Faber, 2014)
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Jackie talk about the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Last Post' by Carol Ann Duffy.
We are delighted to feature 'Last Post' in this episode and would like to thank Carol Ann Duffy and Peter Strauss at Rogers, Coleridge & White for allowing us to use it in this way.
Carol Ann Duffy has just published a collection of poems written over the course of her laureateship, entitled 'Sincerity', which is available from Picador:
https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/carol-ann-duffy/sincerity/9781509893423
She has also edited an anthology, 'Armistice' - A Laureate's Choice of Poems of War and Peace, available from Faber & Faber:
https://www.faber.co.uk/9780571347070-armistice.html
Jackie visited The Poetry Exchange at St Chad's College Chapel in Durham, during Durham Book Festival, in association with Durham University Foundation Programme. We’re very grateful to all our Durham partners for hosting us so warmly.
http://durhambookfestival.com https://www.dur.ac.uk/foundation.programme/ https://www.stchads.ac.uk
Jackie is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Andrea Witzke-Slot and John Prebble.
'Last Post' is read by John Prebble.
Last Post By Carol Ann Duffy
'In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.'
If poetry could tell it backwards, true, begin that moment shrapnel scythed you to the stinking mud… but you get up, amazed, watch bled bad blood run upwards from the slime into its wounds; see lines and lines of British boys rewind back to their trenches, kiss the photographs from home- mothers, sweethearts, sisters, younger brothers not entering the story now to die and die and die. Dulce- No- Decorum- No- Pro patria mori. You walk away.
You walk away; drop your gun (fixed bayonet) like all your mates do too- Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert- and light a cigarette. There's coffee in the square, warm French bread and all those thousands dead are shaking dried mud from their hair and queuing up for home. Freshly alive, a lad plays Tipperary to the crowd, released from History; the glistening, healthy horses fit for heroes, kings.
You lean against a wall, your several million lives still possible and crammed with love, work, children, talent, English beer, good food. You see the poet tuck away his pocket-book and smile. If poetry could truly tell it backwards, then it would.
© Carol Ann Duffy 2009
Welcome to The Poetry Exchange.
We have conversations with individuals about a poem that has been a friend to them. In exchange we make them a gift: a unique recording of their chosen poem, inspired by the conversation and their thoughts and feelings about the poem.
The Poetry Exchange takes place in a range of venues and settings, featuring public visitors and special guests.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Roy Mcfarlane about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'The Negro Speaks of Rivers' by Langston Hughes.
We are delighted to feature 'The Negro Speaks of Rivers' in this episode and would like to thank Harold Ober Associates for allowing us to use it in this way. You can read the poem in 'Vintage Hughes' published by Penguin Random House:
https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/84100/vintage-hughes-by-langston-hughes/9781400034024/
Roy visited The Poetry Exchange at the Festival in a Factory at the Emma Bridgewater factory in Stoke-on-Trent. We’re very grateful to the Festival in a Factory and Emma Bridgewater for hosting us so warmly.
https://festivalinafactory.co.uk https://www.emmabridgewater.co.uk
Roy McFarlane is a poet and his latest collection, 'The Healing Next Time' is now available from Nine Arches Press:
http://ninearchespress.com/publications/poetry-collections/the%20healing%20next%20time.html
You can find out more about Roy and his work at his website:
http://www.roymcfarlane.com
Roy is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Al Snell.
'The Negro Speaks of Rivers' is read by Fiona Bennett.
The Negro Speaks of Rivers By Langston Hughes
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I’ve known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
From The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes, published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Copyright © 1994 the Estate of Langston Hughes.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Peter talking about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'Continuous' by Tony Harrison.
We are delighted to feature 'Continuous' in this episode and would like to thank both Faber & Faber and Tony Harrison for granting us permission to use his poem in this way. Do visit them for further inspiration and to find out more about Tony and his work:
www.faber.co.uk/author/tony-harrison/
Peter visited The Poetry Exchange at BALTIC Contemporary Arts Centre in Gateshead, as part of the Raising The Flag Event. We’re very grateful to BALTIC for hosting The Poetry Exchange so warmly. Discover more about their work and their fascinating programme of events:
www.baltic.art
Peter is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, John Prebble and Degna Stone.
'Continuous' is read by John Prebble.
Continuous By Tony Harrison
James Cagney was the one up both our streets. His was the only art we ever shared. A gangster film and choc ice were the treats that showed about as much love as he dared.
He’d be my own age now in ’49! The hand that glinted with the ring he wore, his father’s, tipped the cold bar into mine just as the organist dropped through the floor.
He’s on the platform lowered out of sight to organ music, this time on looped tape, into a furnace with a blinding light where only his father’s ring will keep its shape.
I wear it now to Cagney’s on my own And sense my father’s hands cupped round my treat –
they feel as though they’ve been chilled to the bone from holding my ice cream all through White Heat.
In this episode you will hear Tom talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'The Lake Isle Of Innisfree' by W. B. Yeats.
Tom visited us at HOME in Manchester. We are very grateful to HOME for hosting The Poetry Exchange - you can discover more about them and their work here:
www.homemcr.org
Tom is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Alastair Snell.
'The Lake Isle Of Innisfree' is read by Fiona Bennett.
The Lake Isle Of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
In this episode you will hear writer and actor Roxy Dunn talking about the poem that has been a friend to her - 'How The World Gets Bigger' by Alyson Hallett.
Roxy visited us at Pushkin House in London. We are very grateful to Pushkin House for hosting The Poetry Exchange so warmly. Thank you also to poet, Alyson Hallett for kindly granting permission for us to use this poem.
www.pushkinhouse.org Alyson Hallett's website: www.thestonelibrary.com
'How The World Gets Bigger' is no longer in print but Alyson still holds a few copies. If you would like to buy a copy, you can contact her directly via The Stone Library website above.
Roxy is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
'How The World Gets Bigger' is read by Fiona Bennett
How The World Gets Bigger by Alyson Hallett
This morning there's a note pinned to your door explaining why you've had to rush out and cancel our meeting. I turn back into the rain, watch it falling on tarmac, rivering in gutters, little bullets exploding. I unbutton my jacket, lift my face to the sky. This is better than crying; nowehere to be and nothing to do. I walk the christened pavement, cherry tree hung like a chandelier, the corner at the end of the road suddenly appealing, the way it turns without revealing what lies beyond.
From The Stone Library (Peterloo Poets, 2007) www.thestonelibrary.com
In this episode you will hear Nicholas Laughlin talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'Proem' by Martin Carter.
Nicholas is one of our 'long distance' visitors and joined us via Skype, from Trinidad. Nicholas is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, John Prebble and Andrea Witzke Slot, who were together in London for the conversation.
Our thanks to Bloodaxe Books Publishers for kindly granting us permission to use 'Proem'. Do visit them for further inspiration:
www.bloodaxebooks.com
You can discover more of Nicholas Laughlin's thoughts and writings here: http://nicholaslaughlin.net
'Proem' is read by both John and Andrea.
Proem by Martin Carter
Not, in the saying of you, are you said. Baffled and like a root stopped by a stone you turn back questioning the tree you feed. But what the leaves hear is not what the roots ask. Inexhaustibly, being at one time what was to be said and at another time what has been said the saying of you remains the living of you never to be said. But, enduring, you change with the change that changes and yet are not of the changing of any of you. Ever yourself, you are always about to be yourself in something else ever with me.
Martin Carter, University of Hunger: Collected Poems & Selected Prose, ed. Gemma Robinson
In this episode you will hear Founder of The Poetry Exchange, Fiona Bennett talking about the poem that has been a friend to her - 'A Kite for Aibhín' by Seamus Heaney.
For more inspiration surrounding Heaney and his work, visit Seamus Heaney Home Place: www.seamusheaneyhome.com
Since making the live recording of this conversation, we have realised an error of pronunciation in the title - the correct pronunciation of 'Aibhín' is ay_veen. Thank you to a careful listener for pointing this out to us.
Fiona founded the project in 2014, with the view of enabling people to explore, discover and voice their friendships with poems, so this is a particularly special episode as it captures her first experience of an Exchange.
The Poetry Exchange team had a wonderful few days together in Carcassonne, South of France last year and it was here that Fiona joined fellow Poetry Exchange team members, John Prebble and Becca Manley to talk about her friend.
'A Kite For Aibhín' is read by Becca Manley.
A Kite For Aibhín After 'L'Aquilone' by Giovanni Pascoli (1855-1912)
Air from another life and time and place, Pale blue heavenly air is supporting A white wing beating high against the breeze,
And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon All of us there trooped out Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,
I take my stand again, halt opposite Anahorish Hill to scan the blue, Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.
And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew, Lifts itself, goes with the wind until It rises to loud cheers from us below.
Rises, and my hand is like a spindle Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher
The longing in the breast and planted feet And gazing face and heart of the kite flier Until string breaks and—separate, elate—
The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.
'A Kite for Aibhín'. Taken from 'Human Chain' by Seamus Heaney(Published by Faber & Faber Limited, 2010)
In this episode you will hear renowned actor Andrew Scott talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'Love (III)' by George Herbert.
Andrew visited us Battersea, London and is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
'Love' is read by Michael Schaeffer.
Love (III)
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lacked anything.
‘A guest,’ I answered, ‘worthy to be here.’ Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ ‘I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear, I cannot look on thee.’ Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, ‘Who made the eyes but I?’
‘Truth Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.’ ‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’ ‘My dear, then I will serve.’ ‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat:’ So I did sit and eat.
In this episode you will hear Lisa talking about the poem that has been a friend to her - 'How Surely Gravity's Law' by Rainer Maria Rilke.
Lisa visited us at John Ryland's Library in Manchester and is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
'How Surely Gravity's Law' is read by Fiona Bennett.
How Surely Gravity's Law by Rainer Maria Rilke
How surely gravity’s law, strong as an ocean current, takes hold of the smallest thing and pulls it toward the heart of the world.
Each thing— each stone, blossom, child — is held in place. Only we, in our arrogance, push out beyond what we each belong to for some empty freedom.
If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees.
Instead we entangle ourselves in knots of our own making and struggle, lonely and confused.
So like children, we begin again to learn from the things, because they are in God’s heart; they have never left him.
This is what the things can teach us: to fall, patiently to trust our heaviness. Even a bird has to do that before he can fly.
In this episode you will hear John talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'Return' by C. P. Cavafy - translated by Rae Dalven.
John is our first 'Long Distance' visitor to The Poetry Exchange via Skype! Joining us from Athens, John is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and John Prebble, who were together in London for the conversation.
'Return' is read by John Prebble.
Return
Return often and take me, beloved sensation, return and take me - when the memory of the body awakens, and old desire runs again through the blood; when the lips and the skin remember, and the hands feel as if they touch again.
Return often and take me at night, when the lips and the skin remember...
From The Complete Poems of C.P. Cavafy, translated by Rae Dalven, with an introduction by W.H. Auden, New York 1961.
The reading of the Greek poem you can hear in this episode is from: C.P. Cavafy, The Collected Poems, OUP 2007 (includes a parallel Greek/English text).
In this episode you will hear Dan talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'This Poem' by Salena Godden.
Dan visited us in Lambeth, London and is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Bennett and Al Snell.
'This Poem' is read by Al Snell.
This Poem
This poem is not designed. And this poem is not the map. It is not written to give you something to relate to. This poem will not be the words you recite to your lover in the night. This poem will not be the words you scratch into your prison cell walls with bleeding nails. This poem is not designed to arouse you or even confuse you. This poem will not make you laugh or cry or feel. It will not be the lines that make you remember how to live. It will not remind you of the time you cut your finger sledging, as vivid as blood in the snow and everlasting as the scar made that day. This poem does not taste like old five-pence pieces, and it will not sound like an ice cream van in summertime. This poem will not enlighten you like a Buddhist prayer. It will not fill you with wonder at the human condition. This poem will not feed you like potatoes and gravy and it will not answer your questions of being alone in this. This poem cannot be your friend or explain that reoccurring chewing-gum dream. It will not stop you calling out in the night in cold and acrid sweat. This poem cannot help you. It will not inspire you to take up writing or even to continue. This poem is not the way in or the way out. It will not feel like winning and it will not feel like losing. This poem will not make your bus come sooner. It will not make your cake rise or guess the lottery numbers. This poem is not written to be anything other than what you want to read into it, and if you expect a poem to ever do anything more then you should read this full stop.
'Fishing In The Aftermath - Poems 1994-2014' by Burning Eye Books (2014).
In this episode you will hear poet Joolz Sparkes talking about the poem that has been a friend to her - 'Dulce et decorum est' by Wilfred Owen.
Joolz visited us in Lambeth, London and is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
Dulce et Decorum Est is read by Michael Shaeffer.
Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.— Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
In this episode you will hear extraordinary actor Paterson Joseph talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - '5 AM' by Roxy Dunn.
Paterson visited us at The October Gallery in London. We are very grateful to The October Gallery for hosting The Poetry Exchange so warmly. Thank you also to Roxy Dunn for kindly granting permission for us to use this poem. Do visit them for further inspiration:
www.octobergallery.co.uk https://store.eyewearpublishing.com/products/clowning
Please also feel free to discover a little more about Kiki Dimoula, the Poet behind Fiona's emerging friend, 'The Wrong Arrangement'.
www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/kiki-dimoula
We were delighted to welcome Paterson Joseph into conversation with us. You can find his new book ‘Julius Caesar and Me’, available for pre-order from Bloomsbury here:
www.bloomsbury.com/uk/julius-caesar-and-me-9781350011199/
Paterson is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
'5 AM' is read by Michael Schaeffer
It's not quite light am I getting old? old people wake early half a croissant is on the desk like a squashed crescent and there's that record I bought with the Soviet rocket sleeve
Around the corner in Highbury Keith's cat has given you fleas your bags are packed for Antibes I wonder if I care about the right things like rabbits dying slowly and Brexit sometimes I’m secretly unfazed I feel selfish and middle-aged
I'd like to play this rocket record but I don't have a record player the band are from Leeds, is that cool? I can't work out if this is regret or just the onset of dullness I think I'll eat breakfast then sleep till noon eat the remains of last night's moon
'5 AM' by Roxy Dunn. Printed by permission of Roxy Dunn. Taken from 'Clowning' (Eyewear Publishing, 2016)
In this episode you will hear Liis talking about the poem that has been a friend to her - 'The Island' by A.A. Milne.
Liis visited us at Wise Words Festival in Canterbury. For the first time, we held The Poetry Exchange in a public space, amongst the poetry books at Waterstones, Rose Lane, Canterbury. We are very grateful to both Waterstones and to Wise Words for hosting The Poetry Exchange so warmly.
www.wisewordsfestival.co.uk www.waterstones.com/events/search/s…rbury-rose-lane
Liis is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Sarah Salway and John Prebble.
The Island
If I had a ship, I'd sail my ship I'd sail my ship Through Eastern seas; Down to the beach where the slow waves thunder - The green curls over and the white falls under - Boom! Boom! Boom! On the sun-bright sand. Then I'd leave my ship and I'd land, And climb the steep white sand, And climb to the trees The six dark trees, The coco-nut trees on the cliff's green crown - Hands and knees To the coco-nut trees, Face to the cliff as the stones patter down, Up, up, up, staggering, stumbling, Round the corner where the rock is crumbling, Round this shoulder, Over this boulder, Up to the top where the six trees stand....
And there would I rest, and lie, My chin in my hands, and gaze At the dazzle of sand below, And the green waves curling slow And the grey-blue distant haze Where the sea goes up to the sky....
And I'd say to myself as I looked so lazily down at the sea: "There's nobody else in the world, and the world was made for me."
In this episode you will hear Jonathan talking about the poem that has been a friend to him - 'Love (III)' by George Herbert.
Jonathan visited us at Wise Words Festival in Canterbury. For the first time, we held The Poetry Exchange in a public space, amongst the poetry books at Waterstones, Rose Lane, Canterbury. We are very grateful to both Waterstones and to Wise Words for hosting The Poetry Exchange so warmly.
www.wisewordsfestival.co.uk www.waterstones.com/events/search/shop/canterbury-rose-lane
Jonathan is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Victoria Field and John Prebble.
Love (III)
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lacked anything.
‘A guest,’ I answered, ‘worthy to be here.’ Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ ‘I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear, I cannot look on thee.’ Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, ‘Who made the eyes but I?’
‘Truth Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.’ ‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’ ‘My dear, then I will serve.’ ‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat:’ So I did sit and eat.
In this episode, you will hear the brilliant actor Maxine Peake talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’Turns' by Tony Harrison.
Maxine visited The Poetry Exchange at John Rylands Library in May 2016. We’re very grateful to John Rylands Library for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Thank you also to Tony Harrison and Faber & Faber Publishers for kindly granting permission for us to use this poem. Do visit them for further inspiration:
www.faber.co.uk/author/tony-harrison/ www.library.manchester.ac.uk/rylands/
Maxine is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
’Turns' is read by Michael Schaeffer.
Turns by Tony Harrison
I thought it made me look more 'working class' (as if a bit of chequered cloth could bridge that gap!) I did a turn in it before the glass. My mother said: It suits you, your dad's cap. (She preferred me to wear suits and part my hair: You're every bit as good as that lot are!)
All the pension queue came out to stare. Dad was sprawled beside the postbox (still VR), his cap turned inside up beside his head, smudged H A H in purple Indian ink and Brylcreem slicks displayed so folks might think he wanted charity for dropping dead.
He never begged. For nowt! Death's reticence crowns his life's, and me, I'm opening my trap to busk the class that broke him for the pence that splash like brackish tears into our cap.
’Turns' by Tony Harrison. Taken from ‘Selected Poems’. (Penguin; 3rd Revised ed. edition, 7 Feb. 2013)
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Harry talking about the poem that has been a friend to him: ’Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)' by Frank O'Hara.
Harry visited The Poetry Exchange at John Rylands Library in May 2016. We’re very grateful to John Rylands Library for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Thank you also to City Lights Publishers for kindly granting permission for us to use this poem. Do visit them both for further inspiration:
www.library.manchester.ac.uk/rylands/ www.citylights.com
Harry is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Jacqueline Kington and Michael Schaeffer.
’Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)' is read by Michael Schaeffer and Jacqueline Kington.
Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed) by Frank O'Hara
Lana Turner has collapsed! I was trotting along and suddenly it started raining and snowing and you said it was hailing but hailing hits you on the head hard so it was really snowing and raining and I was in such a hurry to meet you but the traffic was acting exactly like the sky and suddenly I see a headline LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED! there is no snow in Hollywood there is no rain in California I have been to lots of parties and acted perfectly disgraceful but I never actually collapsed oh Lana Turner we love you get up
’Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)' by Frank O'Hara from 'Lunch Poems: Pocket Poets Number 19'. (City Lights Publishers 2014).
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear the brilliant poet and theatre-maker Hafsah Bashir talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’On Children' by Kahlil Gibran.
Hafsah visited The Poetry Exchange at John Rylands Library in May 2016. We’re very grateful to John Rylands Library for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Do visit them for further inspiration:
www.library.manchester.ac.uk/rylands/
Hafsah is a writer and you can follow her work here: hafsahaneelabashir.wordpress.com
Hafsah is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
’On Children' is read by Fiona Bennett.
'On Children' (from 'The Prophet') by Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
In this episode of the podcast, you will hear Mark talking about the poem that has been a friend to him: ’For Sigrid' by Derek Walcott.
Mark visited The Poetry Exchange at The Chapel in St Chad's College as part of Durham Book Festival in October 2015. We’re very grateful to Durham Book Festival, New Writing North and St Chad’s College for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Thank you also to Farrar, Straus and Giroux for kindly granting permission for us to use this poem. Do visit them for further inspiration and to find out more about Derek and his work.
us.macmillan.com us.macmillan.com/author/derekwalcott
Mark is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
'For Sigrid' is read by Michael Schaeffer.
‘For Sigrid’ from ‘The Bounty’ by Derek Walcott.
The sea should have settled him, but its noise is no help. I am talking about a man whose doors invite a sail to cross a kitchen-sill at sunrise, to whom the reek of kelp drying in the sunlit wind on the chattering shoal or the veils of a drizzle hazing a narrow cave are a phantom passion; who hears in the feathering lances of grass a soundless siege, who, when a bird skips a wave, feels an arrow shoot from his heart and his wrist dances. He sees the full moon in daylight, the sky’s waning rose, the gray wind, his nurse trawling her shawl of white lace; whose wounds were sprinkled with salt but who turns over their horrors with each crinkling carapace. I am talking about small odysseys that, with the rhythm of a galley, launch his waking house in the thinning indigo hour, as he mutters thanks over the answer of a freckled, forgiving back in creased linen, its salt neck and damp hair, and, rising from cover, to the soundless pad of a leopard or a mewing kitten, unscrews the coffee-jar and measures two and a half spoons, and pauses, paralyzed by a sail crossing blue windows, then dresses in the half-dark, dawn-drawn by the full moon’s magnet, until her light-heaving back is a widow’s. She drags the tides and she hauls the heart by hawsers stronger than any devotion, and she creates monsters that have pulled god-settled heroes from their houses and shawled women watching the fading of the stars.
"For Sigrid" from THE BOUNTY by Derek Walcott. Copyright © 1997 by Derek Walcott. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. http://us.macmillan.com/fsg
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Alison talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’Restlessness' by D. H. Lawrence.
Alison visited The Poetry Exchange at the Chapel in St Chad's College as part of Durham Book Festival in October 2015. We’re very grateful to Durham Book Festival, New Writing North and St Chad’s Chapel for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Do visit them for further inspiration!
www.durhambookfestival.com www.newwritingnorth.com www.stchads.ac.uk
Alison is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Schaeffer.
'Restlessness' is read by Michael Schaeffer.
'Restlessness' by D. H. Lawrence
At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night, Hold my hand to catch the raindrops, that slant into sight, Arriving grey from the darkness above suddenly into the light of the room. I will escape from the hollow room, the box of light, And be out in the bewildering darkness, which is always fecund, which might Mate my hungry soul with a germ of its womb.
I will go out to the night, as a man goes down to the shore To draw his net through the surf’s thin line, at the dawn before The sun warms the sea, little, lonely and sad, sifting the sobbing tide. I will sift the surf that edges the night, with my net, the four Strands of my eyes and my lips and my hands and my feet, sifting the store Of flotsam until my soul is tired or satisfied.
I will catch in my eyes’ quick net The faces of all the women as they go past, Bend over them with my soul, to cherish the wet Cheeks and wet hair a moment, saying: “Is it you?” Looking earnestly under the dark umbrellas, held fast Against the wind; and if, where the lamplight blew Its rainy swill about us, she answered me With a laugh and a merry wildness that it was she Who was seeking me, and had found me at last to free Me now from the stunting bonds of my chastity, How glad I should be!
Moving along in the mysterious ebb of the night Pass the men whose eyes are shut like anemones in a dark pool; Why don’t they open with vision and speak to me, what have they in sight? Why do I wander aimless among them, desirous fool? I can always linger over the huddled books on the stalls, Always gladden my amorous fingers with the touch of their leaves, Always kneel in courtship to the shelves in the doorways, where falls The shadow, always offer myself to one mistress, who always receives.
But oh, it is not enough, it is all no good. There is something I want to feel in my running blood, Something I want to touch; I must hold my face to the rain, I must hold my face to the wind, and let it explain Me its life as it hurries in secret. I will trail my hands again through the drenched, cold leaves Till my hands are full of the chillness and touch of leaves, Till at length they induce me to sleep, and to forget.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Martin talking about the poem that has been a friend to him: ’The Lake Isle of Innisfree' by W. B. Yeats.
Martin visited The Poetry Exchange at The Poetry Library at Southbank in London. We’re very grateful to The Poetry Library for hosting us. Do visit them for further inspiration!
www.poetrylibrary.org.uk
Martin is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Alastair Snell and Sarah Salway.
'The Lake Isle of Innisfree' is read by Alastair Snell.
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Claudia talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’The moth' by Miroslav Holub.
We are delighted to feature 'The moth' in this episode and would like to thank Bloodaxe Books for granting us permission to use the poem in this way. Do visit them for further inspiration!
www.bloodaxebooks.com
And if you would like to find out more about Miroslav Holub and hear him reading his own work in Czech, please visit:
www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/collection_audio/audio_submenu/H/0
Claudia visited The Poetry Exchange at Greyfriar's Chapel in Canterbury, as part of Wise Words Festival in September 2014. We’re very grateful to Wise Words for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Thanks also to Spread The Word for their continued support of the project.
www.wisewordsfestival.co.uk www.spreadtheword.org.uk
Claudia is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'The moth' is read by Michael Shaeffer.
'The moth' by Miroslav Holub
The moth, having left its pupa in the galaxy of flower grains and pots of rancid dripping,
the moth discovers in this topical darkness that it’s a kind of butterfly but it can’t believe it, it can’t believe it,
it can’t believe that it’s a tiny, flying, relatively free moth
and it wants to go back, but there’s no way.
Freedom makes the moth tremble for ever. That is, Twenty-two hours.
Miroslav Holub, Poems Before & After: Collected English Translations. Trans. Dana Hasova and David Young (Bloodaxe Books, 2006) www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/poems-before-after-848
'Adaptation' by Fiona Lesley Bennett.
(from The Poetry Exchange conversation with Claudia Orduz about the poem that has been a friend to her; The Moth by Miroslav Holub.)
Czechoslovakia 1976
A man is shuttered away in a laboratory he stares down the lens of a microscope into the peppercorn eyes of a moth. At night words fall through him like particles that cluster and mutate in spiralling patterns Nemuze uverit, nemuze uverit, nemuze uverit.
Every twenty-two hours the moth hangs in its pupa waiting for the blood to fall and for the wind and the currents.
Columbia 2011
A woman is kept in a jar, the jar is kept in darkness, the darkness is blacker than her eyes. Inside herself she dreams she is a girl running barefoot with a net in the garden. creelo, creelo, creelo
Somewhere between thought and dream, between decades and hemispheres and species the edge of belief begins like a wing that trembles and then lifts.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear John talking about the poem that has been a friend to him: ’Ars Poetica 100: I Believe' by Elizabeth Alexander.
We are delighted to feature 'Ars Poetica 100: I Believe' in this episode and would like to thank Elizabeth Alexander and Faith Childs Literary Agency for granting us permission to use her poem in this way. Do visit them for further inspiration and to find out more about Elizabeth and her work.
www.elizabethalexander.net/front-page-1 www.faithchildsliteraryagency.com
John visited The Poetry Exchange at Greyfriar's Chapel in Canterbury, as part of Wise Words Festival in September 2014. We’re very grateful to Wise Words for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Thanks also to Spread The Word for their continued support of the project.
www.wisewordsfestival.co.uk www.spreadtheword.org.uk
John is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'Ars Poetica #100: I Believe' is read by Michael Shaeffer.
'Ars Poetica #100: I Believe'
Poetry, I tell my students, is idiosyncratic. Poetry
is where we are ourselves (though Sterling Brown said
“Every ‘I’ is a dramatic ‘I’”), digging in the clam flats
for the shell that snaps, emptying the proverbial pocketbook.
Poetry is what you find in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God in the details, the only way
to get from here to there. Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love, and I’m sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest) is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other?
Ars Poetica #100: I Believe © 2005 by Elizabeth Alexander, first appeared in American Sublime, published by Graywolf Press, St. Paul, MN, and is used with the permission of Elizabeth Alexander.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Alice talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’Compost' by Dan Chelotti.
We are delighted to feature 'Compost' in this episode and would like to thank Dan Chelotti, Poetry Foundation, Poetry Magazine and Greying Ghost Press for granting permission to use the poem. Do visit them for further inspiration and to find out more about Dan and his work.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/dan-chelotti http://www.greyingghost.bigcartel.com/product/compost-by-dan-chelotti https://www.poetrysociety.org/psa/poetry/crossroads/Chapbook_Anniversary/dan_chelotti/
Alice visited The Poetry Exchange at Greyfriar's Chapel in Canterbury, as part of Wise Words Festival in September 2014. We’re very grateful to Wise Words for hosting The Poetry Exchange.
http://www.wisewordsfestival.co.uk
Alice is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'Compost' is read by Michael Shaeffer.
Compost by Dan Chelotti
There is magic in decay. A dance to be done For the rotting, the maggot strewn Piles of flesh which pile Upon the dung-ridden earth And the damp that gathers And rusts and defiles. There is a bit of this In even the most zoetic soul — The dancing child’s arms Flailing to an old ska song Conduct the day-old flies Away to whatever rank Native is closest. Just today I was walking along the river With my daughter in my backpack And I opened my email On my phone and Duffie Had sent me a poem Called “Compost.” I read it To my little girl and started To explain before I was three Words in Selma started Yelling, Daddy, Daddy, snake! In the path was a snake, Belly up and still nerve-twitching The ghost of some passing Bicycle or horse. Pretty, Selma said. Yes, I said. And underneath my yes Another yes, the yes to my body, Just beginning to show signs Of slack, and another, my grasping In the dark for affirming flesh That in turn says yes, yes Let’s rot together but not until We’ve drained what sap Is left in these trees. And I wake in the morning And think of the coroner Calling to ask what color My father’s eyes were, And I asked, Why? Why can’t You just look — and the coroner, Matter-of-factly says, Decay. Do you want some eggs, my love? I have a new way of preparing them. And look, look outside, I think this weather Has the chance of holding.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Tricia talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’Prayer' by Carol Ann Duffy.
We are delighted to feature 'Prayer' in this episode and would like to thank Carol Ann Duffy for granting us permission to use her poem in this way.
Tricia visited The Poetry Exchange at The Poetry Library at Southbank Centre in August 2015. We’re very grateful to The Poetry Library for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Do visit them for further inspiration!
http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk
Tricia is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Alistair Snell.
'Prayer' is read by Fiona Lesley Bennett.
‘Prayer’ from Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy. Published by Picador, 2013. Copyright © Carol Ann Duffy. Reproduced by permission of the author c/o Rogers, Coleridge & White Ltd., 20 Powis Mews, London W 11 1JN
Prayer by Carol Ann Duffy
Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer utters itself. So, a woman will lift her head from the sieve of her hands and stare at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.
Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth enters our hearts, that small familiar pain; then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth in the distant Latin chanting of a train.
Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales console the lodger looking out across a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls a child's name as though they named their loss.
Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer - Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.
In this episode of our podcast, you will hear Margaret talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’Transfiguration' by Edwin Muir.
Margaret visited The Poetry Exchange at The Chapel in St Chad's College as part of Durham Book Festival in October 2015. We’re very grateful to Durham Book Festival, New Writing North and St Chad’s College for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Do visit them for further inspiration!
www.durhambookfestival.com www.newwritingnorth.com www.stchads.ac.uk
Margaret is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'Transfiguration' is read by Fiona Lesley Bennett.
Transfiguration by Edwin Muir
So from the ground we felt that virtue branch Through all our veins till we were whole, our wrists As fresh and pure as water from a well, Our hands made new to handle holy things, The source of all our seeing rinsed and cleansed Till earth and light and water entering there Gave back to us the clear unfallen world. We would have thrown our clothes away for lightness, But that even they, though sour and travel stained, Seemed, like our flesh, made of immortal substance, And the soiled flax and wool lay light upon us Like friendly wonders, flower and flock entwined As in a morning field. Was it a vision? Or did we see that day the unseeable One glory of the everlasting world Perpetually at work, though never seen Since Eden locked the gate that’s everywhere And nowhere? Was the change in us alone, And the enormous earth still left forlorn, An exile or a prisoner? Yet the world We saw that day made this unreal, for all Was in its place. The painted animals Assembled there in gentle congregations, Or sought apart their leafy oratories, Or walked in peace, the wild and tame together, As if, also for them, the day had come. The shepherds’ hovels shone, for underneath The soot we saw the stone clean at the heart As on the starting-day. The refuse heaps Were grained with that fine dust that made the world; For he had said, ‘To the pure all things are pure.’ And when we went into the town, he with us, The lurkers under doorways, murderers, With rags tied round their feet for silence, came Out of themselves to us and were with us, And those who hide within the labyrinth Of their own loneliness and greatness came, And those entangled in their own devices, The silent and the garrulous liars, all Stepped out of their dungeons and were free. Reality or vision, this we have seen. If it had lasted but another moment It might have held for ever! But the world Rolled back into its place, and we are here, And all that radiant kingdom lies forlorn, As if it had never stirred; no human voice Is heard among its meadows, but it speaks To itself alone, alone it flowers and shines And blossoms for itself while time runs on.
But he will come again, it’s said, though not Unwanted and unsummoned; for all things, Beasts of the field, and woods, and rocks, and seas, And all mankind from end to end of the earth Will call him with one voice. In our own time, Some say, or at a time when time is ripe. Then he will come, Christ the uncrucified, Christ the discrucified, his death undone, His agony unmade, his cross dismantled— Glad to be so—and the tormented wood Will cure its hurt and grow into a tree In a green springing corner of young Eden, And Judas damned take his long journey backward From darkness into light and be a child Beside his mother’s knee, and the betrayal Be quite undone and never more be done.
In this episode, you will hear Mary Anne talking about the poem that has been a friend to her: ’I Am Like A Rose' by D. H. Lawrence.
'It is a reminder that you need to be your true self in order to find fulfilment in life – and love, and that you also need to show wonder, mellowness and warmth.'
Mary Anne visited The Poetry Exchange at Greyfriars' Chapel in Canterbury as part of Wise Words Festival in September 2015. We’re very grateful to Wise Words Festival and Workers of Art for hosting and supporting The Poetry Exchange. Do visit them for further inspiration and beautiful encounters with poetry.
http://www.wisewordsfestival.co.uk http://www.workers-of-art.co.uk
Mary Anne is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'I Am Like A Rose' is read by Fiona Bennet.
I Am Like A Rose by D. H. Lawrence
I am myself at last; now I achieve My very self. I, with the wonder mellow, Full of fine warmth, I issue forth in clear And single me, perfected from my fellow.
Here I am all myself. No rose-bush heaving Its limpid sap to culmination, has brought Itself more sheer and naked out of the green In stark-clear roses, than I to myself am brought.
In this inaugural episode of our podcast, you will hear Dominic talking about the poem that has been a friend to him: ’The Second Coming’ by W. B. Yeats.
‘It’s just stuck with me, in a good friend way…it’s got this negative vision but this beautiful frame that can’t seem to support that, which is I guess is why I go back to it.’
Dominic visited The Poetry Exchange at St Chad’s College Chapel, as part of Durham Book Festival in October 2015. We’re very grateful to Durham Book Festival, New Writing North and St Chad’s College for hosting The Poetry Exchange. Do visit them for further inspiration!
www.durhambookfestival.com www.newwritingnorth.com www.stchads.ac.uk
Dominic is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members Fiona Lesley Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.
'The Second Coming' is read by Michael Shaeffer
The Second Coming by W. B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Source: The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (1989)
Welcome to The Poetry Exchange.
We explore the idea of poems as friends.
Over the last two years, we've been inviting people to come and talk to us about a poem that has been a friend to them.
Our new podcast will share these conversations, illuminating readers' insights into poems and the power of poetry in our everyday lives.
In each podcast episode you’ll be able to listen to one person talking about a poem and how it’s been a friend to them. You'll also hear a unique reading of their chosen poem, made especially for them.
For now, here's a taster - some extracts of the conversations we've been having with people about poems as friends and the place of poetry in their lives.
We hope you enjoy it.
Click on the link to subscribe to receive each new podcast as soon as it's released.
www.thepoetryexchange.co.uk/listen
The Poetry Exchange is generously supported by Arts Council England, Workers of Art, New Writing North and Spread the Word.
www.artscouncil.org.uk www.workers-of-art.co.uk www.newwritingnorth.com www.spreadtheword.org.uk