Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Feeling Lifted
Two new additions to my busy autumn/winter table: Sex, Love and Rock and Roll by Tony Walsh aka Longfella, and Navigation by Canal Laureate, Jo Bell. What inspired these two new purchases? A trip to Otley Courthouse to see Lifted, an interactive poetry performance by these two accomplished and entertaining poets.
It’s a cold, misty mooned Saturday night. Otley is quiet and blank faced stone houses line suspiciously silent streets. But there is a warm buzz emanating from The Courthouse, and the monochrome night is rescued by warm lights and coloured flags; remnants from Divali flapping in the cold wind.
Friendly face surprises are the first bursts of happiness, followed by a cheeky glass of white and finding seats near the front. We’re a little disappointed how easy it is to find seats- we had expected to struggle to get tickets for this event after looking forward to it for a good three months. However the last explosive celebrations of Bonfire Night seem to have tempted most away; or possibly Doctor Who. Haven’t these people heard of iPlayer??
Still, the medium sized audience manages to fill the courtroom with clapping, laughter, sighs and even the clatter of heels on wood as Tony and Jo take us on an exploration of all the things, big and small, that make us happy. We even have homework! Jo reads out our handwritten offerings such as When and where were you happiest so far and Tell us something that makes you happy. I chose my happiest moment so far: coming home from the hospital with Nathan, him sleeping in the Moses basket, poor cats struggling to cope and perching, meerkat like, peering at the new invader while Matt Smith dominated the TV.
Jo and Tony take turns and sometimes duet on a diverse range of poems; some funny, some sad, but all touching on the moments that lift us; that make us grateful, joyous, or bring epiphany.
Tony’s quick fire, loud and cheeky delivery matches his skill with rhyme perfectly; not many poets can rhyme and keep rhyming for a long time in a long poem and not have it sound trite or contrived at some point. Tony not only manages this but almost makes you forget you are listening to a structured form; the poems almost become songs.
Jo’s delivery is heartfelt and ranges between gentle sincerity and naughty humour. Her phrasing is a delight and the imagery she uses evokes feelings and memories that can drag you back to a summer’s day, or a lazy morning’s (lack of) activities, or a passionate clinch.
There is talk of love and kingfishers, dancing and death, a manifesto for happiness and the truth about duck gang rape. Ranging between enthralling and hilarious, these poets work marvellously together and at the end of the night, I think we really are all thinking about the things that make us happy, and we have been thoroughly entertained. Highly recommended.
Catch this feel good show while you can:
The Georgian Theatre Royal, Richmond, 13th November
Celtic Witchcraft Chapter 4
Click here to read the latest chapter, which includes gorgeous artwork by my sister Kirsten Savage. In this chapter we look at the magic of colours and how to apply this in your day to day life.
Pens on the Table
There are pens on my table
I just can’t explain
When every refrain
Is tapped out on the lap top
Or vigorously thumbed
Into iPhone note pad apps
Between bites of baps
And inevitable wine
Lubricating the rhyme
There are pens on my table
I can’t tell you why
When my reach for the sky
Is mainly through wifi
No paper to scratch
Only ideas to hatch
There are pens on my table
I don’t know where from
When my notebooks were stolen
And lost in the bomb
Of my four year old artist’s
Creative monsoon
There are pens on the table;
He must have put them there.
A Modern Celt by Mabh Savage
Hi stearzeebrerorothuysmar2007.
I really want to contact you however you have no option on your page for comments or messages. I’m a little upset that you have made a pdf of my book and are giving it away for free. Assuming that’s what this file actually is. If not, you are using my book to promote a link to something else entirely.
Like all writers, I worked very hard to produce something unique and of value, and according to the stats on this page you have stolen it from me 604 times. If these stats are fake/incorrect, again, you are misrepresenting my work for your own means.
Please, think about the impact your actions have on authors and also independent publishing companies. I’m contactable through all social media channels, which you could have found with a simple Google search; you could have asked me how I felt about my book being freely available, and we could have taken it from there. However you have chosen to steal and encourage others to steal my work, or you have used my work to front the link to something else.
Please remove this link, and any others to work that is current and available to buy from the publisher or its distributors. Any of my followers reading this, please do not follow the link given; I do not believe this is a genuine copy of my book and it may be dangerous to your computer. All the best, Mabh.
Taken from Notes from a Gentle Heart…
...is a wonderful review of my book, A Modern Celt: Seeking the Ancestors. Laura Perry tells us in her own words what she thought of it. Thanks Laura, glad you enjoyed it!
Coming Home to Mouldy Guacamole
I almost wish it were
A metaphor for death; decay!
Instead you’ll be surprised
To hear me say
That coming home to
Mouldy guacamole
Holy moley!
Guacamole!
Is actually a measure
Of my happiness
My pleasure
Green and lumpy
Like it should be
Now it’s blue as well:
Oh hell!
But no drama
At this sight;
I shrug and in this moonlit night
In the bin I put the mess to bed
And have a lovely curry instead.
Celtic Witchcraft
If you’ve ever wondered how witchcraft is still thriving in our modern world, go and have a read of the first chapter of my new book, Celtic Witchcraft. It’s available to view for free on the Moon Books Blog.
Hopelessly Tangled
Whilst clearing out my handbag, amidst the tobacco dust and tissues were two of my favourite necklaces, tangled beyond recognition as two separate items. I pulled at the chains gently, but was unsure where to start.
‘This is my life’, I thought, depressively. Yes, tangled and snarled with no way to know which way to go without making the tangle worse. I may have sighed resignedly and put the necklace down, but a spark of determination lit a fire I had forgotten, and my deft fingers found a single chain longer than the others.
Following the links, untwisting and unwinding, I though about my own tangle; the things I want, the things I don’t want and the things I am forced to deal with. My illness, changing my mind into an ocean unnavigable. My ambitions, on hold while I pull at these tangles. So many chains, so many ropes, but each rope is a part of me.
I can be a tangle and still work just fine; I’m a mother, a writer, a singer, a musician, a friend, a lover, a sister, a daughter, a call centre worker, a gaming geek; each of these threads tangles into a ball that should not be daunting but delightful.
The twin tangles of chain are slowly parting, and I think of how I don’t want to feel tangled though; I don’t want to feel lost and tied up without the strong to follow through the labyrinth. The necklaces suddenly part, and I feel a sudden sense of freedom; any of the chains I follow will release me, as they are each a part of me.
Necklaces fixed, mind clearer, day brighter; the tangles are still here, but I think I can work them out.
Mabh Savage 