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A BANDSTAND HAT TRICK FOR A SKYLARKER (#SingingAsTheDarknessLifts 140)

  A BANDSTAND HAT TRICK FOR A SKYLARKER 


 

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This morning the air smells of summer. It is warm and brings fuchsia and clover. It is the kind of air that hugs you as you step outside.

 

Alt text says this week’s photo is of a person standing in front of a microphone. And it is. My gratitude to Neil Henderson for capturing this moment in time where I am reading my poems from the bandstand at Oswestry Pride. I often look rather (for rather read incredibly) serious in photos so it’s good to have this one!

 

This was my third reading from that bandstand, and I love having been part of the event since it started in 2024. I also love the fact that when I reflected on reading there the first time it was my wish to be invited back. And now I can celebrate a hat trick. It was also nice that people took time to compliment me on my poems. I like a compliment along the way.

 

And I’ve done some learning over time. I know now to adjust the mic and to take my time. The first time I read with a microphone I was too scared to touch it which meant I stood on tiptoe all the way through the reading in order to have my mouth in the right place. I also thought that I should be ready to start reading as soon as I was at the mic which didn’t allow me to take a breath and settle myself. I’ve sorted those things out now and am now focusing on finding the best way to be able to see my words and also be able to see members of the audience. The majority of my poetry sharing happens online. Each month I record a poem of the month for my YouTube channel and I seem to do far more online poetry sharing in zoom rooms than out-in-the-world-in-front of people readings. I also need to wear glasses to see the words, but not for longer distances. All this mixed together means I am less slick at handling my words out in the world, and it always seems to surprise me that I can’t scroll the lines in front of my eyes when I am standing in front of people.

 

This week has seen a number of poems flying back to me from various places they had been sent. I am good now at seeing this as a chance to read the poems afresh to work out what needs changing in order to enhance them. One particular poem had a clunky line in the middle where I definitely knew what I meant, but that didn’t necessarily mean other readers would. I enjoyed smoothing that one. I have also started to change my metaphor so I will set poems to sail now rather than fly. This is more in keeping with my desire to do things slightly more slowly and use my time wisely instead of rushing.

 

I sat in a sold-out lecture theatre this week to hear Ele Fountain speak and to find out who had won the Cheshire Prize for Literature. I love good speeches and was delighted to listen to Ele’s talk. I admire people who can tell their story well and add value to the audience and Ele certainly did that. I then had a quiet revelation when it came to the announcement of the prize winners – I would have loved to have won. That might sound a little obvious as a thing to say, but what I mean is I would have loved to walk down the steps after being announced as a winner. Gone were the feelings of nerves of being on show and here was a feeling of wouldn’t it be purely lovely to win. I used to sit in audiences and want to be invisible and suddenly here I was fully in the moment. I didn’t win, but I did love this new feeling. It felt like an acknowledgement of having grown into myself, and I rather liked that way of looking at it. Here I give a gentle nod to liking my silvered “really surprised hair” and to the difference coaching, and a change of direction have made.

 

For this week’s poem I choose to share one which was inspired by watching clouds as they skim along in the expanse above. It was originally published in One Hand Clapping. Here’s to all the watchers of clouds in the sky and the feelings it generates...

 

SKYLARKING

 

She searches the sky most days.

Never says skies;

to her that one vastness

holds so much.

 

Sometimes she forgets 

she cannot contemplate what exists above.

 

There are days she wants to pull down the clouds 

to build a maze.

 

Days she wants to swallow the small ones; 

their cold candyfloss hydration.

Days she wants to lie down on the side of a hill

with someone she loves 

naming every shape.

 

Days she thinks she would be happy 

just watching everything glide by

in the colour of swans.


 

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