Ooow, what a gorgeous Autumn day it's been here! Walking along the beach without need for a jacket, enjoying the amber sunshine with my two dogs, my feet drenched from having performed an impersonation of Dr Faustus as we meandered through a glittering pool of sea water... Now that's what I call a good break from the computer!
Yesterday afternoon saw me taking part in a Poetry Marathon hosted by Central Library in Liverpool, and organised by Pauline Rowe of North End Writers as their contribution to National Poetry Day. It was a free all-day event, with a continual stream of poets (known and unknown all being treated alike) performing their work for the public.
The audience was a respectable size. People wandered in and out, of course, and the poets’ styles were as diverse as could possibly be hoped for. Everyone had been previously allocated ten minutes each, which gives some indication of the large volume of poets taking part – plus some people came along on the day and asked if they could take part, and room was made for them too.
I read three of my poems: Druid’s Journey, a philosophical piece which described the soul’s evolutionary progression through countless incarnations; Conversations With Dad, a poignant of my late father’s struggle with Alzheimer’s; and The Tale of Tristram Gnome, which I wrote when aged around seventeen, a tragic-comic adventure of a tipsy garden gnome.
I’d say the event was a great success! Here’s hoping it becomes an annual event.
The event was held in the Picton Library which, when I used to work there, used to house the Religion & Philosophy Library. Usually, when we visit places which we used to know well, they seem smaller than how we remember them. I had the opposite experience. Sitting under the familiar blue and white dome, the library seemed larger than I recalled it. It’s not important; it’s merely an example of how perceptions can’t be relied upon as accurate.