I love the dales – the cushiony green fields, the plumptious ripening lambkins, the sudden catastrophic downpours…
Barnard Castle for my third tour date, at the wonderful Witham. The team there have been massively helpful in getting me coverage in the local press, but we all knew spoken word would be a tough sell for an arts centre only just beginning to experiment with their programming. So yes, the audience wasn’t the largest, but feedback was good – and I quote
“It was wondrous. Crafted and performed in a way that turned spoken word into gorgeous, spellbinding music”
“You transported me to a whole other world, Kirsten, and it was an enormous treat. Thank you so much for painting such a moving, vivid and thought-provoking picture. Really enjoyed the writing workshop too.”
Ah yes, the workshop! That was so mint you could have made sauce out of it. (Thinking of lamb again). We did some pretty erasures, and then wrote some 5-7-5 lunes about places we have travelled that have left vivid impressions …
Pinging off feathers in flight
Like the hard-edged kernel of popcorn
Being echoed in the ear
Berlin Puppet Theatre by Brighid
Jagged voice sawing through bone
A fur-shroud clogging pores of skin
Dark blue double bass belly
Tuscan Village by Glynnis
Church in front, church behind
No alarm clocks needed, as yelling bells
Clatter like tin bin lids
Lunes are lovely short poems that can capture a single moment in much the same way as a haiku, or can be linked together to form longer poems. Just to be fair, here’s an example of a linked 3-5-3 lune sequence I wrote recently, also attempting to capture a sense of both place and mental state.
Cut grass scent
Rising from hidden municipal lawns,
Violins tuning high
Over the chuntering
Bonnets of black Hackney cabs,
Pungent, gridlocked timpani.
Cantilevered streets flourish
Rowans from their top hats,
Rapid drumroll berries
Splatter hot pavements.
Tantrum black sky bassooning
Over Kings Cross.
Footfall, rainfall, freefall.
The head behind your head
Recalls days like
This day, this
Open stringed cacophony, same, same
Old orchestra pit.