My third book of poems is a broad selection of themes and ideas written over the last two years. Some drawn from personal experience and direct observation while others more playful, fanciful, surreal; reflecting individual concerns more sociological than political. A mixed bag of assorted vignettes and anecdotes brought together under the collective title ‘Art squares look and stare’. A large majority of the poems are written and presented in traditional stanza form. A conscious decision made in order to tighten up the work to make the pieces concise, pithier and structurally more coherent.
AND THEN IT COMES BLOW ING poetic expression of George E Harris
‘And Then It Comes Blowing’ is a collection of works at the beginning of an exploration for George E Harris. The works can be read aloud as well as sung. At times they have been cut up, spliced and performed as a longer work. Some works are new and yet to be projected through a live setting. The early morning rises to engage in a working day prompted George to write and photograph, using the time of the journeys taken across the city of London. The writing began in forms of notes and phrases from observations and then after thoughts prompted by the photographs. The book covers a period in Georges writing since 2011 to the present day. ‘Steam Detective’ and ‘Odes To a 1940s Film Set’ are the earliest works with ‘Paradise Walk’, ‘City Am I’, ‘Vs in the Window’ and the title work being more recent pieces. Some works have been added to over a period of recent years because of a need to reflect current events like the work ‘No Poor Doors’, which was initially put together in 2015. George’s works take on an abstract, but social political consciousness of the present. They also use memories of the personal, places and people whilst delving into a constant interest of the cinematic past and present. Each blending and overlapping as life often does. The title ‘And Then It Comes Blowing’ comes from the expressions of waiting, listening, struggles, political and social cares with references to natural occurrences in changing weather systems. It is a blast of furious thoughts that come out in abstracted realism, split in the in-between moments of observing, memory, news and the written notes.
Amy Deakin is a performance poet and writer based in South London. She has always lived in Morden, and is therefore allowed to slag it off. Her work has been described as ‘full of character and personality’. Morden and other tourist destinations is her first collection.
informed and influenced by his great love” of classic literature and mythology, and there is more than a little mischief in his use of form, word-play, and subversion of aphorisms. His poetry, has been described as “delicately nuanced”, a “secret being carefully unwoven…”, whilst “packing an emotional heft and immediacy…” Drawing on influences as varied as Shakespeare, Carroll, and Bukowski, Rick has the capacity to innovate whilst paying homage, and always keeping trick, or two, up his sleeve…
Performance poets in the 1980s showed Nick Eisen that poetry could be clear, entertaining and topical. This inspired him to go to clubs where crowds cheered and laughed at rhythms and rhymes, rather than straining in literary silence to decode difficult slabs of blank verse. Nick has been performing around the changing stages of the poetry circuit on and off ever since. From 1997 to 2002 he was also Programmer at the Man In The Moon Theater in Chelsea, which staged his play Icarus Rising, and where he did occasional stints as the “Emergency Poet” to cover unexpectedly vacant revue slots. Apart from poetry and plays or spoken word, Nick has written sketches and arts journalism, but he has never felt his work belonged in a book, until Jason Why offered this chance: Probably the Secret Police and Other Slices is Nick’s first collection
Alain English is delighted to publish his second book with W.C.H. Publishing. This selection of poetry marks ten years in London and covers such varied topics as mental health, snooker and politics. Travelling from Aberdeen to London via Sheffield and Palestine, these poems can be savoured and enjoyed at any time.
Anne Gaelan is from Morecambe and this is her very first collection of poems. This volume contains twenty-nine of her works which are linked by the theme of journey. The poems address contemporary issues from the current refugee crisis to celebrity in addition to more familiar situations which affect humanity like running the local pub and nostalgia for the past. Her work traverses many shades and is a delightful combination of contemplation, celebration, sharp observation, tragedy, and black comedy. It also highlights the glorious beauty of the natural world in North Lancashire and Cumbria
Keith’s new book is an eclectic and varied assortment of poems gathered together under the collective title “The mirrors of Thespis”. There’s no underlying thread/leitmotif running through them other than the diversity of content.
Keith is essentially a musician with strong poetic and visual sensibilities that informs all aspects of his creative work. In a world where the word “interdisciplinary arts” is the buzz word he was there long before the word was even coined. He spent many years as a musical director with dance and theatre companies which greatly influenced and widened his artistic scope.
Welcome to this, my third collection of awesome poetry, perfect for the fireside, the bedside, or even the roadside, full of lyrical rhymes on alternative themes that will stimulate and entertain you and hopefully, get your own creative juices flowing. I wanted to deliver a flow of poetry that enters the human psyche in a sensitive way, putting life’s problems and experiences into context, reaching into the corners of life and shaking it out like a table cloth
Throughout her life, Ingrid Andrew created art and wrote poetry prolifically. She later added music and song to celebrate her passion for the natural world and humanity, also her fears. In this thought-provoking but delightful volume, ‘of the Deep’, you will find quirky humour too and affectionate observation. Ingrid’s life ended in 2015.
The volume has 22 poems, each gently remarkable, with one ferociously defiant. The overriding sensation is of her characteristic tenderness.
For a full review, click on the Review tab.
Ingrid’s first volume ‘The Bird of Morning’ is also available from William Cornelius Harris Publishing. Her creative websitewww.ingridandrew.wordpress.com is still there to both stimulate and soothe heart and soul. She welcomes you with tenderness.
This little book of poetry is dedicated to all my close friends and family. And to all the extraordinary people who have influenced and enhanced my life in ways I never could have imagined possible.
With more than just thanks to Peter Beverley, Bob Frith, Paul Kershaw, Katerina and Ankaret El Haj, Xochitl Tuck, Laura Barnes, Lorna Barter, Cam Ringel, Penny and Shadow and Dave from Tottenham Chances, Kitty Reford, the Sidcup and Bexley crew, Jill Penny, Fiona Frank, Wendy and Chris Pointon from Market Rasen, Poet Razz and all at Survivors Poetry.
Most of the poems are to a large extent inspired by the physical world of form, shape, substance and location. Things observed or confronted by stimuli outside of the confessional and the subjective, though both approaches interweave with one another at certain points in other poems.
Dark Matter explores the thin line between lust and destruction, revealing a blasted spectrum where thirsty raindrops cause havoc between wet sheets, and from the windows view young girls are hanging by rope from the mango tree; from vast twisted tempests, where Miranda carries Caliban’s spawn, to the moist incubator of a breathless baby on the very edge of life, Amy Neilson Smith’sDark Matter work burrows into the bones of what is so viscerally here – and what is so nearly not.It’s the after taste of life’s losses, all sewn together with a lifeline of light.
Amy Neilson Smith’s poetry is lively work, displaying an exuberant love of words that will leave the reader eager for more – an engaging talent. Agnes Meadows, Poet/ Writer, Loose Muse – Morgan’s Eye Press Amy’s work is the thorn and the petals, the whole complicated rose.
Tara Fleur ‘Woman Of Bones’ first collection of poetry Title I’m Not Here For Your Entertainment
She is a Performance Poet, Fine Artist MA, Psychiatric Nurse, and Survivor of Trauma.
She has a battled with Mental Illness alongside a varied involvement in Acute Psychiatry and the Arts.
She has exhibited her installation art which incorporates spoken word, film and photography and independently curated several successful exhibitions of conceptual art over the past 25 years.
In 2013 she won a national painting / poetry competition (Think Arts) with a portrait of Shakespeare that was on display at Southwark Cathedral, London UK.
Tara Fleur ‘Woman Of Bones’ is new to publication but has already had poems included in collection of poetry in America by Nina Loard.
Her life story as a Poet, Artist and Survivor of Trauma can also be found in an academic psychological research publication ‘ Narratives Of Art Practise and Mental Well Being ‘ by Olivia Sagan, Bishop Grosseteste University.
Tara Fleur ‘Woman Of Bones’ performs her poetry widely across the London open mic circuit, poetry slam’s and has featured at several events.
She has an interest in collaborating with fellow poets, most recently weaving a darker thread of poetry into Ingrid Andrew’s performance piece ‘When Woman Created The World’
I’m Not Here For Your Entertainment
is a collection of edgy, melancholic, sexually explicit, traumatic, dark, socio-political, uncomfortable and often shockingly visceral poetry.
This book of poetry is, her book of poetry.. a reflection of a life less ordinary
First collection with William Cornelius Harris Publishing
There is a Tune Poet for Life is the new release of poetry by Cathy Flower Poet for Life. Cathy arrived in London in 2004. Since her arrival, she has performed here extensively. How did it start? “It all began for me in Sydney, racing up a hill in Darlinghurst to put my name down in the open-mic at a pizza bar on Oxford Street in 1991. I made it. My blood was inspired. Poetry and I remain”.
There is a Tune is Poet for Life Cathy’s third book of poetry, dealing with urban pains and enlightening strains but with a dash of hope, enchantment and survival. Preceding poetry volumes by Cathy Flower include Blue Poetry (2013) and Poetry is the Sight Within: 8 Short Poems (2010).www.cathypoetflower.tumblr.com
The battle with Depression’s got me on the floor. We’re twisting and turning, that’s what happens when you’re fighting. Depression calls for reinforcements. Here come Hate and Loathing. Hope and Life retreat. Depression tells no truths. He’s hitting hard with my past. Suicide’s shouting, “Come on depression”. Hate’s punches strike home. I’m down again, surrounded by life’s mistakes. Depression sends Fear in. I’m on the floor once more. Hope and Life are withdrawing. I shout, “Don’t leave”. Despair sends more troops – Death, Suicide, Despair, Poetry
Depression is laughing, jumping and dancing. Where is Life and Hope?
Extract from Death Suicide Despair Poetry: The Miracle
Just can’t put my finger on it. But he continues to answer my question with the words, “That’s ok, that’s ok, that’s alright”. He answers that it’s alright to commit suicide. As he walks away I remember his bottom lip was over the top one, just how hairy he was. He skips along with long arms, just like a child with her skipping rope. Then I realise the monkeys have taken over the zoo.
I have been writing and performing my mix of poetry for people with a social conscience.Those of you who are still loving and caring and think the world has needed a complete overhaul for a very long time now should give my book a go as I’m only saying what many people think anyway..My first collection has been well received by many and as a result will be releasing a second collection later on in the year.I get a lot of pleasure knowing people from everywhere are reading, and digesting what I have to say. I think it’s becoming more and more important to support up and coming writers and poets as the art of spoken word and written word could become lost underneath all this technology we have grown to depend on.Before this, oral traditions were relied upon to spread information and ideas to the masses, and it would be a great shame if this tradition was abandoned completely.Finally, I hope you have a good read if you choose my book.Love and lig
Poems and illustrations by CamTan Ringel, aka CT within poetry circuits in London and Stockholm.
‘Words are for sharing’ ‘Each word deserves to be heard’ she says in her poetry workshops.
‘You don’t have to understand poetry. You don’t even have to understand the person who wrote it. Just give it a chance to trigger your thinking that little bit extra. Some of us do not want to think. That is ok too; just read, absorb and see what happens.’
CT began writing at the age of nine, in Sweden, in English, so that no one would understand. It was a scary prospect baring yoursoul.As a single child, she found her sanctuary in the world of words. Poetry kept her alive and somewhat sane.
‘Poetry gave perspective, release, refuge and a lot of comfort.’
‘Simple’, she says: ‘We shield ourselves from the discomfort of being wet and cold whilst poking people’s eyes out. If we would dare to enjoy the rain as well as the sunshine, we might just dare seeing each other and ourselves the way we are meant to be seen (which is everyone’s guess but an exciting one.)’
What is the best thing that has happened poetry-wise for you?
‘Shaking hands with Princess Diana at ‘Southwark against drugs’ exhibition felt huge but also to see people develop their capacity to express themselves; grow their confidence – often despite potentially very difficult circumstances. ’ Poem from Umbrellas are for Whimp
Fran Isherwood first poetry collection will take you on a wry, awry, word-playful gallop through the vagaries of life encountering a motley cast of mail stealing snails, 70s comedy legends, explosive bakers and baritones- turned -butchers en route. She is a regular on the London Spoken Word circuit who hosts a monthly event in East London but also has previous form as a singer, comic and actor. Fran has had poems published in several anthologies and a couple of periodicals. This is her first collection of poems.
The Bird of Morning is my first collection of poems.
Ingrid Andrew is a poet, artist and sometime singer songwriter who lives in South East London with a husband, daughter and a cat called Erwin.
For over ten years she has performed her poems and songs all over London and in particular at Survivors Poetry events in Covent Garden and Tottenham, and for the last 6 years has designed the posters promoting these events.
For many years Ingrid also hosted and featured at her own nights of music and poetry ‘Voices of Experience’ and has just started another series of nights in West Norwood, hosted by Jason Why and featuring many of her poet and musician friends as well as some exciting new voices.
Ingrid has also written a comi-tragic drama, described as an ‘epic pantomime’, and studded with songs, about the life of the Buddha and a mischievous and dynamic performance piece that has been staged four times, (including at Rich Mix in Shoreditch) describing what really happened ‘When Woman created the World’. Lately with the dynamic and darkly sinuous contribution of poet and artist Tara Fleur, ‘Woman of Bones’.
In the last five years Ingrid has held three one woman art exhibitions in Brixton, Australia and Camberwell, featuring landscapes, portraits and imaginative images in traditional media and digital form. Her last exhibition featured many images from ‘When Woman created the World.’ Free downloadable
A poem from ‘The Bird of Morning’
‘Because so many are torn away too soon,
too young, unsung; I’ll make a sacrament of every day, a hymn to every tree, to every cloud a song. And when the dusk and twilight fall I will remember, I will recall that each new day’s a gift.
so many are torn away too soon, too young, unsung; I will remember and remember well one night, one day, I too shall be undone. My time will come. And I’ll be free to grow into the lineaments of a tree, a breath of cloud, a wave that rises and falls and sighs and sighs
Also available for e reader from i bookstore and all good online bookstore price £1.99
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Copyright Ingrid Andrew (Standard Copyright Licence)
Edition first edition
Publisher William Cornelius Harris
Published 22 October 2014
Binding Perfect-bound Paperback
Interior Ink Black & white
Weight 0.11 kg
Dimensions 14.81 wide x 20.98 tall (centimetres)
Sibling Ribaldries ! Rather Rude Rhmes our first collection South East London sisters Nicky & Heather Sullivan have been performing as ‘Office Girls Go Crazy’ for many years, amusing the clientele of SE London pubs and clubs with their odd poems, (composed during their lunch hour) terrible singing and smutty jokes. Performances supporting John Cooper Clark and Vic Reeves Big Night out in New Cross led them to the legendary Tunnel Club, where they braved flying beer glasses, chairs and bodies – all encouraged by Malcolm Hardee. Great fun! Still performing their rather rude poems and jokes, the Office Girls are regulars on the London poetry/comedy circuit, and of course, Edinburgh. Now you can read a collection of their poems in ‘Sibling Ribaldries – Rather Rude Rhymes’ – if you dare…FREE DOWN LOAD
Poem from Sibling Ribaldries
I was feeling a bit down the other day, As my chest had southwards drifted, So I popped into M&S And bought a new bra, Well now I feel quite uplifted! nicky sullivan
Also available for e reader from i bookstore and all good online bookstore price £1.99
ISBN 9781291995459 Copyright Nicky & Heather Sullivan (Standard Copyright Licence) Edition first edition Publisher William Cornelius Harris Published 19 November 2014 Language English Pages 52 Binding Perfect-bound Paperback Interior Ink Black & white Weight 0.13 kg Dimensions 14.81 wide x 20.98 tall (centimetres)
I was born in Stoke Newington and brought up in North London in the bosom of a large family. Being Anglo/Arab I always had the extra influence that my Dads heritage offered which made me a little more open to other religions and philosophies from the start .Having always been aware of the unseen influences around us I realised my altruism could only be made true if I wrapped it up in poetry, Making it Verse where it would be safe. In this world of illusion anything from the heart needs to be protected. The growth of my work has hung on the fact I do believe we are being directed by an unseen force .My dilemma is what to call that. I would like you to read the poems from that angle to get the true meanings and messages concealed within.
Poem From ‘Making it Verse’
‘In the blizzards of my memory lies a piece of broken glass,
In the sunsets of my fantasies the heart is beating fast.
In the rivers of my sorrows sits a changeling, so alone,
In the fairground of my happiness, freaks and hobos roam!’
Joy, Fear and F–k It is my first collection of poetry
Joy, Fear and F–k It by Ant Smith The Game Cat has been performing poetry for 20 years and this collection includes the major works from his stage performance canon.
More are available by connecting the author, whilst he yet lives. It said by Second Chance this is out standing first collection Joy, fear and F–k It by Ant Smith
Poetry has the power to effect positive cultural change, and so I am proud to present this collection in association with Second Chance.
Although often presented in a comedic framework, these pieces all carry a spine of steel. Read them once to laugh, and twice to cry. It is a dark world in which we live. free down load extract from Joy Fear and Fuck It.
Alain English, autistic Scottish man, lays down in these poignant pieces taken from Outside In his first poetry collection life about living with Asperger’s, along with absurd and funny snapshots of London life. You will never look at Asperger’s Syndrome or London in the same way again. Free downloadable extract
Poem from Outside In
The weekend is here and these miserable evenings Will see the chaotic predictable pleasures Of many engaged in their chatter and drinking The poison that powers the games they are playing.In pubs, on the streets, all the courting and fighting That happens between all the regular people.It stings me whenever I see all the people
I’m scared to approach and enduring these evenings Alone and depressed, I’m afraid and I’m fighting My fears by resisting my need for these pleasures,By hiding myself in my room and I’m playing Computer games, watching the telly, not drinking.Detached from the buzz of the booze they are drinking
In town on a Saturday night when the people. Will flirt with themselves and each others, they’re playing A sexual game that enlivens livens their evenings With many exciting adventures and pleasures.How often does banter descend into fighting, The petty stupidity triggers the fighting,
Outside In also available for e reader from i bookstore and all good online bookstore price £1.99
Copyright Alain English (Standard Copyright Licence)
Edition first edition
Publisher William Cornelius Harris
Published 19 November 2014
Binding Perfect-bound Paperback
Interior Ink Black & white
Weight 0.11 kg
Dimensions (centimetres) 14.81 wide x 20.98 tall
This book is the union of two overlapping sets of poems. One set includes all the poems that were performed by Ernesto Sarezale in his critically acclaimed one-man show “In the Name of the Flesh”, premiered at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2010. The other set includes poems by Ernesto Sarezale that have been published in a variety of outlets. Whether part of the show or not, all poems in this collection were written “in the name of the flesh”.
Ernesto Sarezale is the penname of a Basque cognitive scientist, poet, multimedia performer and video artist living in London. Ernesto’s “erotic magic realism” has been tipped as “Dali-esque”, “refreshingly surreal and slightly unsettling”, “gently confrontational”, “darkly humorous”… Ernesto is currently the promoter of London’s quarterly erotic literary soirée Velvet Tongue. In the flesh, on the flesh,
Finally the fantastic performance poet Ernie Burns has penned his poems in a book,called When London Finally Gave in and Started to Love so we can carry him around in our pockets! This collection ‘When London Finally Gave In and Started to Love’ is a superb distillation of five years of his writing; full of what Ernie writes best about, the heart! It’s texts are grubby with the sardonic soot of London’s glaucous city smog and an absolute spark of a poem entitled ‘Little Ember’ scatters light upon the cobbled streets.
Poem from When London Finally Gave in and Started to Love By Ernie Burns
Bad Day This is a “worse” day It holds “worse” for me And I fear more “worse” Is bound to appear Because “worse” is a curse That scares my “Okay” Muscles it out and packs it away It is going to be a terrible day
Because “worse” is a bad listener It does not care When I say In a stern admonishing tone “Bad day bad!”…It runs off Making people think I am mad Talking to a day like that And all I will get today is “Worse”So, how I will feel today is bad. free down load extract from the book.
The war over a return to to full health. No more thought of death, or Suicide the battle waged it close but Hope winning, pushing despair out. Only joy and fulfilment fill the void. Happy thought the flags fly high all people celebrate the end of despair punched out by joy
This is my second poetry collection Life and Hope i learn my craft from the street of London, poetry circuit where i spent many happy hours talking , listening and drinking with London finest poets where i learn there secrets of poetry interestingly this all happen by accident i was invited to a creative writing workshop and each week it was poetry and i would always say when are we going to do creative writing one day they all answers poetry is creative writing at which point i pruduce the flyer which read adventure story writing follow by another big laugh. Life and Hope came to life following the successful completion of my first book Death Suicide Despair Poetry
Poem from Life and Hope
Who said it‘s hard?It‘s impossible to complete such tasks.More work, less staff.Who‘s making the decisions?I hear it loud: cuts, more cuts, more cuts.It‘s all psychological scaremongering.Those who have jobs want to keep them.Those who do not, want to find them.Suddenly there‘s giant leaps of incomers from afar without work and all the time they say it benefits us all.
Seven Sins is my first published novel. I’ve been trying for an awfully long time but finally, there’s my name in print… well one of my names anyway. Quinn Agathoni is the name under which I write fiction. The name on my passport is Alcuin Edwards.
Extract from Seven Sins: In a reversal of Dracula, Quinn Agathoni’s Transylvanian heroine, Janie Hunyadi, finds herself in the demon-haunted wilds of the Lincolnshire fens. In Seven Sins, she finds herself trapped under the power of a demon, and is forced to undergo an ordeal based on the Seven Deadly Sins.
from Seven Sins
The train to Peterborough was clean and modern but after that came the bus. It was blue and cream and it looked like it was made when Matthias Corvinus was a boy. Janie stared out of the window as the bus rattled her over the flat landscape at glacial pace. Here was neither the majestic dark beauty of the mountain home of her childhood nor the shining towers of glass and steel that took their place in London. Instead, there was a plain of green fields stretching to the horizon. She sighed. Over and over again she sighed. Eventually the bus left the region of black earth and crawled between the acres of newly built houses that showed she had arrived in Bourne. There was no cab office at the bus station but she had seen one in the town about a half mile back. She didn’t know where Uncle Peter lived and she had no number so she dialled the cab company instead. Time passed in the bus station. Flies buzzed. Some young boys were smoking defiantly, stubbing out cigarettes on the ‘No Smoking’ sign. They were shouting exuberantly, practising their Anglo-Saxon and then one turned to Janie. “Ey, blondie. Yah minge itchin’? Want me to fill un?” Janie ignored them and stood watching the road for signs of the cab.”Ey ‘srood not to talk to wuss.” “Pardon?” They were young, standing on the threshold of manhood perhaps with muscles starting to grow and with sparse hair growing on their zit-ridden chins. They stood in a parody of menace and Janie laughed. As they gathered around, hooting and jeering. Janie aimed her foot with wall-shattering strength at the nearest pair of testicles.
As the closest boy doubled over, she said, not even taking her eyes off the road. “I’d take your friend to the hospital if I were you”. One boy flicked open a blade. “Seriously?” asked Janie. “Do you boys have a death wish or something?”Janie stood taller than most of them. She turned to face the boy with the knife, her grey eyes burning hot like storm clouds and said, “I came here for a rest. Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.”She reached out to take the knife from him, taking the blade in her palm and letting her blood drip on the floor as she forced it from his hand. “Leave me.” she said, and they did.