Brightsparks


CARDIFF,REMEMBER,OPEN,ORDERED,COW,DEATH
May 18, 2007, 11:52 am
Filed under: Brightsparks Poets, Published Work, showcased work!

Cardiff is one of those words.
If language is a map, words
ordered by their relationship,
it is right out there, so far
off in the open it is nowhere.

It is one of those words, that
you know, you recognise, you
remember but you just don’t know
what it means. You carry it
around, but you can’t get it
out of the herd. I guess cows
recognise each other with that
black and white pattern I guess is
unique-but then I know you all
but don’t recognise your fingertips.
Cardiff is one of those words.
I know it’s there
in Wales, but where in Wales.
I don’t know. I don’t know who does
Cardiff is one of those words.
So is death.

Jo Swift 



Long overdue update…
May 18, 2007, 11:34 am
Filed under: Brightsparks Poets, showcased work!

So the last RAC Sparkplugs Poetry session has happened and the Sparky Poets will be taking a brief rest while we look for more funding. In the meantime, you might like to see what that last session entailed….

Consequences.

Making like a room full of teenagers we set about this much in demand exercise. Here are the randomly generated results:

She was taking pills for her optimism
He was horrified at how similar he
was to her wanton insubstantive-
ness – he wasn’t however convinced.
They met as residents of
a mental health community
government pickle jar!
He said “I used to live in Cornwall,
but then my wife died-so I came here.”
She said “run away with me and my cat”
In the end they got married and had 14 kids.
They lived happily ever after.

She was amusing to the point of death
He was in love with her.
They had gone out for ages.
They met at a party on a riverboat
on the river Thames.
He said:
“I’ve been looking for you all my life
now I’ve found you
will you be my wife.
She said:
“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious”
In the end it was-
“I hate you and I hate the ostriches
and never begun it never
once continued - ‘cept in the science
of simpletons and caterpillars.”

She was fantastic.
I loved her very much
She was my best friend.
He was dressed - in black.
They met at the bus station-
Stand number 12, it was the first time
They had been there together.
He said:
“Sorry love, you look like me mum.”
She said:
“I’d rather like a coat made of
lama and ghosts and ostrich”
In the end,
It was black eyes all around,
Until we shrugged it all off and agreed
“Wot was all that about?”

She was a young woman
With long flowing
Rapunzel-esque hair
That frequently became
Knotted around her ankles.
He was the minister of popular youth.
They met in the cinema.
That was where they had their first date.
He said-“I am here
For one night. One night only”
She said- “I feel the same.
You are my shining star
I’ve been waiting for you for all
Eternernity.
In the end, ‘a’ comes before ‘i’
Except after ‘b i’

She was my valentine, but when
she didn’t come home for a
week the bouquet of flowers
became withered and shrunk to reveal a
heart shaped twig skeleton.
He was an old man. Didn’t get out much
And suddenly there she was.
He said “I want to give you a baby
That we can love”
She said “I have written down
All that I have to say.”
In the end,
They strolled through life hand in hand.
Love had taken over their hearts
and they lived happily ever after.

She was the most beautiful female I ever set eyes on!
He was quite attached to his conscience.
Wherever the ghost left his hat
was where they were to meet-but
he only ever put down his umbrella
leaving his head, famously under
his hat.
He said: “Wassup? Girlfriend”
She didn’t say anything-she just looked at him
And then, raising one small hand
Slowly touched his face.
In the end, Felix and Deidre met Harry

She was profoundly disturbed by what had happened.
He was strolling through this situation called life
They met at a clinic for people with exclusive habits
He said “ abracadabra and allez-ka zoom
And all piffling bonkers stuff
That was quite possibly ill.
She said “I do worry about you, y’know?”
In the end they said no more
but went their separate ways.
He remembered her for months afterwards.

A ghost substantiated thinly
With griefs and veils of apprehension
she was.
He was more of a brother
Than a friend or a partner.
We bickered and fought
Like brothers banded and branded
Together with loyalty
They met in a shopping centre.
He was examining the silk cravats.
She was lingering by the till.
He said “take me to the moon
So I can see the stars.
She said “you can fuck off
You bastard.”
They never really knew what the
other person was thinking…”



Things that are exciting in all kinds of ways.
March 12, 2007, 12:23 pm
Filed under: Brightsparks Poets, showcased work!

The BrightSparks voicebox has been woefully far behind in keeping you to date with things that are exciting in all kinds of exciting ways.

Exciting thing number one: last weeks Sparkplugs. The sterling turnout of heavens knows how many trotted their way through a follow up Things I have brought exercise.  Those who’d done it as ‘homework’ read round to start. Those who hadn’t, did that as their sessional exercise and some others still did clever things with mixing lines up between the things they had brought exercise and things they had not …. Here are a couple of pieces, done in the session to illustrate the point.

My Darling

My seal of zeal
As the distant clouds
Is my beloved darling

Still she lays bare in the glass vessel

For time I look at the seasonal rain
And bare barren trees
To inform me of its meaning

Whilst the birds withdraw
As to escape its shadowy clutch

My musik now belongs to the tarmac
As the tyres crush,
Sounding like waves
Lapping against the seashore

I wrap myself in my warm, weathered waist coat
To shield me from its force

Finally I am reassured.

Sean Benjamin 2007

full of things I can’t remember
mixed up with things I can’t forget

I hold the stone which will become earth part of the planet from the star stuff and my body burns iiself to holdand the stone holds my hand back which is like the darkness reaching out to you which is like nothing holding you firmly this is an interlacing of my fingers and your fingers of darkness and nothing and there are rings on your fingers my darling and all the husbands and all the wives are solid stuff intershot with emptiness and we hold each other tight we put out the fires inside for rings are forever my darling but we are only now we are fists and fingers we are statues we are holding and so we are from the planet from the stars we are stones

Jo Twist



Housewife
November 30, 2006, 4:36 pm
Filed under: showcased work!

Take my house
and shred it.
All the mementos,
the snaps of since-past people;
the ducks forever flying; the books; the litter of lampshades;
the oh so valuable, valuables,
and apply for an annulment

I was wed to the adulterous belief
a house would become a home,
a place of sanctuary,
if you built an extension of yourself
into it.
But as I look around from one piece of memory to another,
they fail to jog into the jigsaw puzzle
that might form the anatomy of my life.
Instead, this disjointed pile of fragments, has become an army
blasting me with well-aimed accusations.
For I am a cheat,
as the pictures on the walls-
the eyes and ears of my artifacts-
watch and listen
for moments of infidelity.

It is a con and always has been
that should you follow the habits
of a home, a habitat,
you will be delivered from disconnection,
saved from the certainty of chaos.

I divorce thee house
along with my chattels,
and enter the tempest, the tsunami,
to be flung into a space
as meaningless as matter,
familiar in its anonymity,
for it is the only house that offers me a welcome,
and from now on, I will call it
home.

Linda Hart 10.11.04



Lighthouse
November 17, 2006, 1:41 am
Filed under: james' stuff, showcased work!

The house is light, not heavy.
Its back door is light not dark.
The front door is light; no sorry
it has lots of front doors, which don’t smoke!
You can seperate the different lights in the house.
There are less fatty rooms spread around the house than is normal.
The house has a butter front.