Yep, it was Night Blue Fruit at the Tin Angel bar in Coventry on Tuesday night. It's on the first Tuesday of each month and is a riot of an Open Mic event, usually with few places to sit and people crowding the bar, cradling pints as they listen to the delights on offer. Always plenty of volunteers to read and this month was particularly crammed with poets wanting to grab the mic.
I forgot to take notes so can't be too specific, but among the usual suspects we had the Great Bearded Barry Patterson, green man of forest and hill, what we used to call a 'tree-hugger' in more politically incorrect times but must now refer to as an environmental activist (never give up, Barry, never surrender); Colin Dick, a veteran poet and talented artist, and the only respectable one among us; Martin Green, always with something interesting and new - and often a little odd, too - to share; George Ttoouli, whose work is becoming increasingly dark and perhaps even macabre (if you ever need to talk, George, you know where I am :D ); Jenny Ousbey, just getting better and better every time I hear her; Matt Nunn, a poet of great experience, who really doesn't need a mic but uses one like a weapon, hurling out poems of astonishing force and vigour; Michael Mackmin, and I'm sure I'm not spelling that right, another local poet and Heaventree Press guy who just keeps getting better every time I hear him perform; Kate and I've forgotten her surname but she was good, some very impressive writing, and she's running a workshop with Matt Nunn on Saturday June 24th in Coventry, for people to write poems about the hidden river Sherbourne which runs underneath Coventry for an anthology
Heaventree Press are producing on that theme; and the young woman sitting at the same table as me, whose name I didn't catch properly when she got up to read, though it could have been Shivani (!?), and whose poetry was like her smoking habit, lavish and deliberate; loads of others, whose names I either missed or forgot, and whose poetry intrigued, entertained, horrified and bewildered me by turns.
Great stuff, and I highly recommend the evening for anyone who's never been and doesn't mind a slight air of craziness. I shall post some photos up later today, probably. But it's 'HOUSE' on the telly in a few minutes and I'm having Butternut Squash and Red Pepper soup for tea. More anon.
NB. I almost forgot to mention Uncle Z, who came along to the event as a complete Tin Angel virgin and sidled up to me in the interval, introducing himself and accusing me of writing dirty poems. Which I do, of course. Utter filth. Nice to see you there, nuncle, and I hope next month you'll bring some poems and show us your paces.
;)