From the outset it looked destined to be filled with Christmas spirit. There were mince pies and drinkies galore. Not only that, within ten minutes of it all kicking off, it became clear that the whole affair would be compered by none other than Santa Claus himself.
There was a fantastic range of poetry, stories and comedy from the assembled wordsmiths and the evening was very entertaining, even if I did feel like I had wandered through my television set into the middle of a Vic and Bob sketch by the end!
If you like poetry, you should definitely come along to a Colchester Poetry event. The next one is the Sunday Matinee on Sunday 30th December 2012 at FirstSite Colchester.
For my own part, I performed six of my poems -
Elusive Sleep
Infirm
Grecian Liar
My Past Existence
Wilfred Owen
The Ballad of the Chris Hoy Incident
The Ballad of the Chris Hoy Incident
Here is one of them, which was written after my Great Uncle became rather poorly.
Infirm
by Annie Bell
Life is so simple, when you are young.
There are no aggravations,
No supplications, applications,
No real ramifications in life,
Which can't be fixed with a plaster and a kiss.
An injury to the leg? A plaster and a kiss.
A grazed elbow? A plaster and a kiss.
A bully? A plaster and a kiss.
The longer life progresses,
The more we are alone;
Expected to cope for ourselves.
Knowledge and truth prevent white lying comfort.
Monsters and imaginary fears in the dark
Remain in the dark,
Remain real and ever present.
There is no kiss and no plaster.
The monsters remain there.
After us.
Terrifying us.
Consuming us.
Older still and even more alone,
Or are we just lonely?
A single glass of dessert wine
In a pool of its own sugary gloop
Leaves a sticky ring on the coffee table.
Why is the Shiraz always gone?
Why are we always wrong?
Where is that comforting song?
At our oldest ... we are utterly alone.
We crave attention and affection
Yet give loved ones deflections.
We crave visitors - desire them
Yet we push them away.
Dismissed as cantankerous old buggers,
Our inner strength concealed by frail bodies.
Our life long worth in question.
No kiss;
No plaster
Can fix that.
© Annie Bell 2012
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