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.’
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
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)
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 extr
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,
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
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
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
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 l
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.
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.’
What’s with the title: ‘Umbrellas are for Whimps’?
‘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 Whimps
Swimming with Endorphins 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.
Poem from Swimming with Endorphin
Garden As Circus
Windy Autumn day, overgrown lawn stands
diagonally on end like teenage pop star’s haircut.
In dancing tree, a blackbird snaffles precious,
remaining orange berries in yellow beak,
balancing, fluttering, almost falling off fragile
branch that flutters in its turn, intermittently
tickling the washing line. I stare and silently dare
the blackbird (let’s call him Cedric) to tightrope-walk
ISBN 9781326002107 Copyright Fran Isherwood (Standard Copyright Licence) Edition first Publisher William Cornelius Harris Publishing Published 1st July 2015 Language English Pages 40 Binding Perfect-bound Paperback Interior Ink Black & white Weight 0.11 kg Dimensions (centimetres) 14.81 wide x 20.98
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,
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 fFinally 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 absolurom 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.