Quiet Compere- Anything but quiet!

What an amazing night at Seven Arts last night. Ten poets plus our esteemed Quiet Compare herself, Sarah L Dixon. We had humour, music, dance, sorrow, love and gratitude in an atmosphere of pre-weekend anticipation shared with talented people.

It was truly a smorgasbord; a veritable vernacular buffet. From villanalles to violent outbursts of silent protest, and morris dancing to musings on current events, there was no end to the themes and styles wrought by stylus and pen this night.

In a mad, last minute change of set, I read an excerpt from my book, A Modern Celt, which is interspersed with poetry inspired by Celtic themes. I sandwiched my set between the two halves of Post Hill, a true story set among the gorgeous wilds of this local beauty spot.

There should be some photos up online soon so I’ll link to these as soon as they are available. If you have a Quiet Compere event near you, I highly recommend going along. Whatever your taste, you are bound to find something to whet your wordy appetite.

Friday 13th, Lucky for Some

Sweating stress from a heavy day at the office, as I walk into my garden there is that immediate relief of being enclosed by one’s hearth and home. My little boy is away at his father’s tonight, so there is an itchy emptiness, but the sense that this is my place, my haven is undeniable. As the front door closes the back one is opened, cats dancing delightedly into the sweet summer air. Washing trails lackadaisically in the stillness; rain threatens but the current heat is ideal for the never ending laundry loads. Blackbird, Lon Dubh, guardian at the gate; he calls to the world and the world answers with voice of magpie, blue tit and wren as they vie for dominance from aerials and chimneys. They rarely venture into my little postage stamp of green; the cats have seen to that. But their voices soothe, an avian symphony that connects me to the past; knowing my ancestors would have stopped their own evening chores to listen to the same song.

Once mundane tasks are over (laundry, cat tray and the never ending picking up of toys) I move to my other household tasks of making sure my chosen companions know they are appreciated. It’s a full moon, a time for things coming to fruition, celebrating goals achieved, harvesting both literally and metaphorically. I raise a glass and speak of gratitude for the wonders in my life: my son who amazes and changes me every day; who teaches me patience and understanding; who shows me that everything I do has a consequence and that we are shaped by our ancestors, both immediate and distant; who brings me joy beyond measure. My family and friends, who are more supportive than I could ever have hoped for. Darkness has threatened many times over the past few months, and there has always been someone holding out a torch. We are tribe.

I pour wine to the ground, and wish that the earth, and all of us who care to give back to the earth, may never hunger or thirst. This is a tiny ritual that I have picked up from my group work as part of a coven, but I find it reflects the old folk practice of leaving a portion of your meal out for the fae, or in England, the brownies or similar. In some ways, this is a way of saying ‘I accept that you share this space with us, so I will share my food with you’. In another way, it’s almost a piece of pride; a way of saying ‘I have been productive, and now I have food to spare’. It’s also an offering of friendship and respect.

In this same vein, I pour the vivid red into bowls and cups as offerings for my gods and ancestors. The Morrigan is thanked for the passions reignited in my life. Brigid is thanked for new beginnings and the blessings of family. My ancestors and descendants are honoured and thanked for their unquestionable impact on me; for helping make me the person I am today. Candles are lit and incense makes the air a little heavy, like a warm blanket. It’s time to call to say goodnight to my boy, and friends are arriving soon. This moment of stillness is a gift. I breathe, then move in time and space towards my loved ones.

Only Angry for Now

I know I say I’m furious
But all I want to know
Is why!
Don’t sigh
And give excuses
Just be true
And you
Just can’t go wrong
My song
Has always been
A measure of passion
One of common sense
And a huge splash
Of spontaneity
I know I say I’m furious
But your honesty
Your sad, sad eyes
And simply how
Distraught you seem
To have broken the dream
To have upset the cream-
Don’t cry over it!
Let’s mop it up
And laugh at the mess
We made
It’ll fade;
I’m only angry for now
You know.

Quiet Compere- I’m performing!

Quiet Compere Tour – Leeds – Seven Arts – 27th June

Sarah L Dixon, The Quiet Compere of Manchester, is taking her unique show on the road in 2014. Her tour will visit 12 cities with over 120 poets performing altogether.

The tour brings together a diverse selection of poets of all ages, cultures styles and experience, designed to entice an audience that may have experienced Spoken Word events before. Sarah has been running Spoken Word events under her guise as The Quiet Compere for three years, staging events in her home-town Manchester, Cheltenham and Leeds, the best known of which is Post Box Poets held in Chorlton.

Quiet Compere events are unique. There are no lengthy introductions to poets, no-one is designated as ‘top-of-the-bill’ – all performers considered equal in Sarah’s eyes. Each line-up boasts a varied and diverse mix of poets, ranging from established local poets, some new to the scene who are ready to stun audiences with their talent, plus a generous sprinkling of nationally well-known poets and performers.

Leeds Line-up (tickets £3 http://www.ticketsource.co.uk/event/54024)

Mike Barlow
Emma Decent
Ian Duhig
Bob Harding-Jones
Steve O’Connor
Caleb Skylab Parkin
Mabh Savage
John Siddique
Rommi Smith
Martin Vosper

About Sarah L. Dixon
A piece about Sarah’s wedding in the style of a Post Mortem report was awarded the acpNews First Prize in Journalism 2007. She has been published in The Ugly Tree, Rain Dog, Yorkmix and Cahoodaloodaling. Sarah L Dixon worked for the NHS 17 years before decided to channel her skills and considerable energy into corralling poets into some sort of order. Sarah not only promotes Spoken Word events, but offers regular writing workshops in the North-West, some of which are aimed specifically at hard-pressed parents of young children – of which she herself happens to be one..

Praise for Sarah L. Dixon

“Sarah’s creative energy and enthusiasm are legendary. She encourages and gives a platform to fellow poets. Where would we be without her?”
Carole Bromley, Poet and editor of Yorkmix

”Post Box Poets has a rare and lovely gentleness.”
John Darwin, Host of Write Out Loud, Sale, Manchester

“Sarah L Dixon pulls together a diverse but well-blended group of poets with contrasting styles to create a sparkling evening’s entertainment.
Peter White, Poetry by HEART, Leeds

For more Information please contact Sarah L Dixon, The Quiet Compere at thequietcomperemcr@gmail.com Follow on Twitter @QuietCompereMCR or call on 07743685221

Quiet Compere Tour 2014
The Quiet Compere Tour is supported using public funding by the National Lottery through Arts Council England.


Sarah L Dixon

THE QUIET COMPERE TOUR SCHEDULE 2014

January 31st Manchester
February 28th York
March 21st Birmingham
April 26th Kendal
May 30th Liverpool
June 27th Leeds
July 24th Newcastle
August 22nd Blackpool
September 26th Sheffield
October 26th Lancaster
November 3rd Chester
December 7th Stockport

Stardust

Another sample track from Laying it Down, the 2012 album released to raise money for University Hospital of North Staffordshire. Want your own copy of 10 unique tracks? Donate £5 to www.justgiving.com/Dagda-Jennifer then message me (either via soundcloud, twitter @mabherick or in the comments) to have your copy sent to you.

A Smile is a Transient Thing…

A smile is a transient thing;

No it’s not

Not right now, in the face

Of this damning disgrace

And the backwash of bitterness

Harsh aftertaste

Of the ending of running

This hobbling race

Still I look and I see

There is no empty space

For the stars and the galaxies

Move into place

Swirling black

Big bang crack

And I’m back on the case

For this smile is no transient thing

And the gift

Freely given

It can’t help

But make my heart sing.

 

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I am the lute
On which your fingers lay
I beg you
Do not play
Unless we both know the tune…

Headingley LitFest: Stories from the War Hospital

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It’s Friday the 21st March, just after the Equinox. There is an odd camaraderie at New Headingley Club, between Leeds Rhinos rugby fans about to head off to cheer on their team, and LitFest fans here to listen in contrasting silence to Stories from the War Hospital, a performance and introduction to the book of the same name.
Headingley LitFest 2014 is sub-titled Surviving, and Richard Wilcocks’ painstakingly researched volume pays tribute not only to some of those who survived the First World War, but those of the 2nd Northern General Hospital at Beckett Park, Leeds, who tirelessly worked to save and rebuild the lives of those back from the front in a bad condition.
Richard introduces the book, a collection of true stories of sick and wounded soldiers, nurses, doctors and volunteers. There are clearly members of the audience who are very invested in this publication, as murmurs and even shout-outs about military acronyms and familiar names mingle with this introductory piece. One of the audience is introduced as an interviewee for the book. There is a sense of pomp and circumstance that belies the plain and basic trim of the wooden block stage and identical folding chairs; this volume has evidently been a labour of love and great effort, and the people involved are proud to see it come to fruition.
The performance itself is brought to us by The Vedettes, who are Richard, Katharina Arnold, Charlotte Blackburn and Hannah Robinson. The three women are in period nurse’s uniforms, although the wide range of roles they each take steps far outside this costume choice. The performance focuses on three of the stories from the book: the stories of Robert Bass, Dorothy Wilkinson and Margaret Anna Newbould. Imagine snapshots of the period brought to life for a brief moment; there is this sense that we are looking through a lens into the past, into tiny fragments of these peoples’ lives. I think this is accentuated by the fact that these are completely true stories; the events have been retold by descendants of the protagonists; the dialogue is from the retelling of those closest to the events.
Katharina introduces the performance with a piece on acoustic guitar. The guitar is then used as a break to indicate the beginning of each new story. Music of the time is also included as part of the stories, again creating this snap shot feel; people standing together and singing, people at Christmas sitting together carolling; all little snippets of everyday life that hammer home how real, how horrifyingly accurate the descriptions of the sickness, the suffering, the wounds and the wailing really are. At one point Hannah is rocking backwards and forwards screaming, and I shiver to think of how much worse the volunteers at Beckett Park must have had it; not just one screaming soldier, but hundreds, many with no hope except the consolation that kind words and the promise of a letter home can give.
We learn of Robert Bass, the soldier who survived wounds to the leg and shoulder, only to have a shell mutilate his jaw, teeth and face. The vivid imagery of this- severed lip, smashed jaw, destroyed teeth- is hard hitting and reminds us not only of the catch all phrase ‘horror of war’ but that conflict is not the large and faceless concept many of us presume it to be, but a visceral process that obliterates individuals’ hopes, dreams and souls; in short, everything that makes them human. My friend Jonathan notes that the often the numbers for ‘Dead and Wounded’ are lumped together, as these are all people who can no longer be fed into the war machine; in short, a wounded man is as useful to the military as a dead man.
Thankfully, this performance, and in turn, the book it comes from, shows us that lives can be restored, and that the de-humanising process is not irreversible in every case. Robert undergoes revolutionary plastic surgery at Beckett’s Park, and indeed finds something of a happy ending… Well, I won’t spoil the story utterly, go read the book!
Charlotte plays the role of Nurse Margaret Anna Newbould, a nurse at Beckett Park who became Acting Matron of the Formosa, a hospital ship that carried casualties from the Gallipoli Peninsula. The Vedettes create a gut wrenching image of the sweat, sickliness and overall sordidness of life on board a ship overfull of the dead and dying. You can feel the heat and the hopelessness. Margaret was much decorated for her service, and one can’t help but feel that a medal is the least someone deserves for being one of the only bright lights in these poor souls’ existence…
Katharina and Hannah play the couple Dorothy Wilkinson and Clifford Pickles: sweethearts torn apart by war, and then damaged further by Clifford’s onset of shell shock. This for me is the most heart wrenching story; psychological trauma is an enemy one cannot fight with bullets and aggression, and of course in the time of the First World War, little was known about how to treat it. Both performances here are strong, human and touching.
As the show finishes, I’m left with a conflicting set of emotions; once more I am shown the grim reality of war, yet to see these close ups of the people affected most strongly by it is something of a privilege. I feel like I have been invited to see behind the scenes of a great play, and am not disappointed by the backdrops and actors. Richard points out, that out of nearly 500 staff that would certainly have worked in the War Hospital, we know of only a very few in detail. Yet it gives me hope that these stories are now recorded for future generations; not only so we don’t forget the shocking reality of the effects of war, but so we can remember how great, how resilient the human spirit is, and how there truly are those who work tirelessly for the good of others.
If you are interested in obtaining a copy of Stories from the War Hospital please email headingleyhospital@gmail.com . A donation of £10 plus postage is recommended.

 

Picture credit in link.

(c) Mabh Savage 2014

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Haiku Practice

Realising sleep can’t
Be replaced by happiness;
Broken body heal.

Half moon balanced in
Equinox sky (black cotton)
Flips; my heart the same.

Vernal Equinox 2014

May you find balance in your life, on this day when light equals dark. Feel the joy of the spring’s return, as a warm glow inside.

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