This anthology, which links voice recordings of the short stories and poems directly to the text on the page, is due out in late April. Despite being very simple, this application of the technique may be a world first and has implications for the delivery of essential information to populations whose reading skills are not as perfect as the material often requires. There’s more here at Readalongreads. Continue reading ‘Let Me Tell You a Story’
UPDATE I’ve just received this link to Que Mai’s readings at the Lannan Foundation this March (2015) When we talk about poets writing from the heart, it’s because we feel their integrity. When I say that Que Mai’s writing hands you her heart and lets you hold it, still beating and bleeding, while she tells her stories, it’s because she keeps nothing back and she trusts us to attend. And you do have to attend, especially if you are coming to this with a Western ear, because the language is more musical, the metaphors more earthy, and the characters and … Continue reading Book review: The Secret of Hoa Sen by Nguyen Phan Que Mai
I am just getting round to the idea that rhythm in prose is a thing and that poetry might hold some clues as to how best to apply it. The trouble is, iambic means nothing to me no matter how many times I look it up; trochaic – same thing, and don’t get me started on anapestic which I still think of as a kind of wallpaper. Whoever invented these monikers surely wanted to keep the whole business in-house like a kind of holy catechism that novitiates have to prove they have learned before being allowed to voice any opinion. … Continue reading Poetry mnemonics – singing up your iambics
I wrote this in a poetry workshop so it must be a poem, yes? But when I sent it out into the world to be appraised for publication (I know, delusional) they said it wasn’t really. It’s been hanging around on my blog ever since, puffing out its chest and posturing to make up for its perceived inadequacies. So in honour of, or more likely a threat to, National Poetry Day, I give you: Philosopher Stoned He is brazenly, brilliantly, brassed off by the polished politics of the righteous right. He heats arguments on pupils bright as buttons of molten … Continue reading For National Poetry Day: ‘Philosopher Stoned’
Shady Lady Ethereal prose of shining Linguistic Jewels, where Artistry goes pining for Masochistic Expression in Sadistic blows. ♦♦♦♦♦ Oh, acrostic! That’s not the same as sarcastic then? Ether poetry challenge October 19th. Continue reading Brace yourself, it’s a poem
Performed at SWAGs ‘Oscar’s Oscars’, Worthing, May 18th 2012. Is it prose or poetry? Who knows! Find it here Continue reading ‘Philosopher Stoned’
Climbing for Jesus I went Up Pen-y-Ghent I was spent Dumb wit! A fool From Sunday School A mule For Christ There was a fox and Horses’ hocks Up there on the rocks No shit! Stupid boots Catholic roots Home to roost In wet tights Aren’t they all bent, Hunters of souls’ rent? Tally ho I went ©suzanne conboy-hill 2011 Pen-y-Ghent is a fell in the Yorkshire Dales. This happened. Even the fox. Continue reading Climbing for Jesus
Philosopher Stoned He is brazenly, brilliantly, brassed off by the polished politics of the righteous right. He heats arguments on pupils bright as buttons of molten jet in eyes alive with intellectual trickery. He rolls concepts and ideas over the strop of his tongue like globules of mercury, loosed from the tedium of measurement. His love of chase is betrayed by tiny garnet blushes on nose and cheeks; cooing infants to his icy fire of victory. He scrubs the thoughts of neophytes with the steel wool of Socratic questioning. Deftly iterating incantations of hegemonies, he hides exquisite diamond cuts in … Continue reading Philosopher Stoned
For the last couple of months, I’ve been immersed in the peculiar world of poetry in order to produce something passable for my OU course. Today, the product of my bemused labours went off to the university for judgment and the long wait for a grade begins. Actually, anything above ‘WTF is that!’ will suffice. I did the required 40 lines; I put my name on the paper; I didn’t take the mick. That’s a pass, surely? So did I learn anything? Well, for a start, I found that poetry describes itself in terms of both feet and meters, thereby … Continue reading Poetry is weird & quite possibly illegal
That’s Yorkshire for ‘poems and poetry‘ (or ‘pomes and pohtree’ if you’re from wherever it is they say that). I did warn you so if you’re here, it’s at your own risk and Management takes no responsibility. More here Continue reading Poims and Poitry
Dr Suzanne Conboy-Hill 