Category Archives: Spoken Word

Breaking Light: part three

autumn sunrise

iii

 

It is late. It is early.

 

Lady Autumn

teaches us

the art of letting go,

as she performs her annual yard sale,

de-cluttering with a tut, a smile,

a shake of the head,

tidying away the toys of summer.

 

She sings as she sweeps –

her long skirts

layered with a patchwork of leaves,

gathering up all that we don’t need

in her wake.

 

Busily she insists

we put our house in order

before the harsher times ahead.

Her winter sister is not so sentimental

when she brings her black bag,

as bottomless as a December night.

 

Despite all we have done,

the gifts we have squandered,

her treasures plundered,

still the Earth

is beautiful.

 

Still the Earth

will forgive us.

Her compassion is endless,

and we will weep at her feet

before this is played out.

 

But first, a favourite vinyl crackles

to the centre.

The needle gathers dust.

With a melancholy pang

Lady Autumn revisits her old haunts,

her maiden places,

savouring the memory one last time

before letting it fade.

 

She presses the best

into the palimpsest of the past,

a bonfire for the rest.

Smoke curlews from the piles of leaves,

gathered into golden dragon hoards,

to be kicked –

and, for a moment,

we are as rich as bank robbers,

the folding gold falling around us.

 

Copyright ©Kevan Manwaring 2010

Continued tomorrow

First published in Soul of the Earth (Awen 2010) and soon to be featured in the forthcoming Silver Branch: bardic poems by Kevan Manwaring (Awen 2017).

https://www.awenpublications.co.uk/

Soul of the Earth Awen 2010

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Stroud Out Loud!

On Friday I launched Stroud’s new monthly spoken word showcase, which I called Stroud Out Loud! (making a neat acronym, SOL!). This has replaced the Story Supper I ran at Black Book Cafe for a couple of years. Everything has its season, and it was time for a fresh start. Perhaps buoyed up by the Spring tide (as witnessed last weekend when I went to view the Severn Bore – the 2nd highest in the world) there was a surge of new enthusiasm for this venture, with old and new faces turning up. I won’t risk trying to name everyone as I’m bound to miss (and therefore offend) someone, but there was a great cross-section of poets, storytellers, singers and musicians. We crammed into the cafe in the back of the Subscription Rooms, here in Stroud – called Mr Twitchett’s after a caterer who died apparently on site. I wondered if our bardic efforts would placate or disturb his spirit, but apart from a broken spotlight and the background hum of some filter above the bar, there were no real problems. The ambience was light-hearted and pleasant, the contributions of good quality, and the audience seemed engaged and amused. It felt like a good start, and the next one is planned for the 24th April – last Friday of the month. So plenty of time to polish your party piece!