Diving into poetry: Bristol Poetry Festival

After wandering around the streets longer than I would have expected, I finally got to the Landsdown, a traditional British pub located at Clifton Village. Honestly, the pub is not very difficult to find but sometimes it is just better to simply follow your instinct rather than trusting the navigator.

The Lansdown Pub is a very welcoming and cosy place. The main bar has a personal touch which makes the pub very special and there is a great range of local beers, ales and ciders available. I found the outside area very attractive too, which can be used along the year as it is covered and warmed up with gas heaters, perfect for a dinner either in summer or winter. 

Above, the outside of the Landsdown (source)

I ordered my pint of Hartbrook (£4) and I went upstairs at sharp 8pm. The Dead Poetry Slam took place in a multifunctional room they have upstairs available to hire for private parties events and shows. After politely rejecting an offer to be a judge of the slam, I found a very nice place at the corner of the room.

Wearing a hat, Trevor Carter described the contest for those who had never been to a Poetry Slam before, like myself. A Dead Poetry Slam is a competition at which a number of poets (in this case, eight) read or recite original work of dead poets for three minutes and the perfomance is judged on a numeric scale by previously selected members of the audience. One of the judges was Jeremy Toombs, who won the poetry slam last year.

I was very impressed by the contestants, who recited poems by John Betjeman, Emily Brontë, Walt Whitman, Charles Bukowski, Kathleen Raine, Constantine Cavafy, Roald Dahl and Geoffrey Chaucer. The audience absolute favourites were Steven, reciting by hard the funny poem of Roald Dahl "The Pig", and Mark, who chose Geoffrey Chaucer for a very expressive recital imitating a very irritating and complainer woman. Both went to the second round together with Rebecca, who did a great performance of "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" by Walt Whitman.

In the picture above: Roald Dahl (source)

Before the second round, there was a 20-minute break to stretch our legs and grab another drink, Trevor Carter and Jeremy Toombs read some of the poems of their new released books (both of them available to buy) and Barry Lane performed a few songs with his guitar. The second round concluded with Roald Dahl at third position, Walt Whitman in second and  Geoffrey Chauces as the winner.

This Dead Poet Slam is part of the Bristol Poetry Festival, which officially starts next Monday, 30th September and the agenda is full of events. Yesterday, for example, The Isambards: poets for Brunel provided 60 minute of original poetry with a Brunel flavour on a slow boat leaving Temple Meads at 1.45 pm wending its way to SS Great Britain. Tickets for this event were already sold out on Monday, though I'm sure ticket holders had a wonderful time along the Avon. Other highlights for next week:

1. The Bear Inn will host a free even 30th September called The Spoke in the Water, sparking words and images from The Spoke.
2. Arnolfini will host the National Poetry Day next 3rd October in two sessions (morning and evening). Tickets are 5 pounds (concessions 3) for each session and 8 (concessions 4) for both sessions.
3. Advance booking is advised for Bristol Poetry Festival Open Poetry Slam in Arnolfini next 4th October.

Check the website or click on the programme at the end of the post to start planning your week.

I leave "The Pig" by Roald Dahl for your own entertainment! 

In England once there lived a big

and wonderfully clever pig.

To everybody it was plain

that piggy had a massive brain.

He worked out sums inside his head,

there was no book he hadn't read.

He knew what made an airplane fly,

he know how engines worked and why.

He knew all this, but in the end

one question drove him round the bend:

He simply couldn't puzzle out

what LIFE was really all about.

What was the reason for his birth?

Why was he placed upon this earth?

His giant brain went round and round,

alas, no answer could be found.

Till suddenly one wondrous night

all in a flash he saw the light.

He jumped up like a ballet dancer

and yelled "By gum, I've got the answer!"

"They want my bacon slice by slice

to sell at a tremendous price!"

"They want my tender juicy chops

to put in all the butcher's shops!"

"THey want my pork to make a roas

and that's the part'll cost the most!"

"They want my sausages in strings,

They even want my chitterlings!"

"The butcher's shop! The carving knife!

That is the reason for my life!"

Shuch thoughts as these are not designed

to give a pig a great piece of mind.

Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,

a plail of pigswill in his hand,

and piggy with a mighty roar, 

bashes the farmer to the floor...

Now comes the rather grizzly bit

so let's not make to much of it,

except that you must understand

that piggy did eat Farmer Bland.

He ate him up from head to toe,

chewing the pieces nice and slow.

It took an hour to reach the feet

because there was so much to eat!

And when he finished, Pig, of course,

felt absolutely no remorse.

Slowly he scratched his brainy head

and with a little smile he said,

"I had a fairly powerful hunch

that he might have me for his lunch. 

And so, because I feared the worst,

I thought I'd better eat him first."

LINKS
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The Landsdown: http://www.thelansdown.com/
Bristol Poetry Festival: http://www.poetrycan.co.uk/