The Poetry Exchange

Then or Now - the episode featuring the poetry of Adrienne Rich and our collaboration with Ballet Black is no longer available, since the full dance production was able to return to stages around the UK following the pandemic. Follow Ballet Black's work and latest tour dates here: https://balletblack.co.uk.

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We are delighted to share a special edition of The Poetry Exchange podcast featuring the score from Ballet Black’s new piece, Then or Now, choreographed by William Tuckett, which would have had its world premiere at The Barbican, London, on March 26th 2020.

The score features poems by Adrienne Rich and the music of Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber (1644-1704), played by solo violinist Daniel Pioro. Poetry Direction is by The Poetry Exchange’s Founder and Director, Fiona Bennett and poems are voiced by Natasha Gordon, Michael Shaeffer and Hafsah Annela Bashir.

It is with great thanks to the Adrienne Rich Estate and all the artists involved that we are able to share this unique collaboration between Ballet Black and The Poetry Exchange with you as a prelude to the full experience, once the ballet can be performed.

Adrienne Rich is one of the greatest modern poets of our time. She was a tireless activist and ambassador for human rights and social justice. She was an active force in the Civil Rights Movement, a leading voice in the Feminist Movement and spoke out against all forms of oppression and injustice. Her exemplary approach to political activism, her scholarly and artistic integrity make her a highly relevant and vital source of inspiration for our time. She died in 2012 and her legacy is a defining force in the ongoing development of poetry.

You can find out more about the life and work of Adrienne Rich through the Adrienne Rich Literary Trust.

We are grateful to The Adrienne Rich Literary Trust and W.W. Norton and Company, Inc. for granting us permission to feature poems from Dark Fields of the Republic, published by W.W. Norton in 1995.

The extraordinary work of violinist, Daniel Pioro can also be found here: www.danielpioro.com/

Photo credit: Camilla Greenwell and Ballet Black

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In this episode, Laura Wade talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Ashes of Life' by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Laura Wade is an Olivier award winning playwright and screenwriter. Her National Theatre play HOME, I’M DARLING premiered at Theatr Clwyd in 2018 before playing at the National, where it received rave reviews. HOME, I’M DARLING won the award for Best New Comedy at the 2019 Oliviers.

Laura’s screenplay THE RIOT CLUB, an adaptation of her acclaimed 2010 stage play POSH, opened in cinemas on September 2014. The film is directed by Lone Scherfig and stars Max Irons, Sam Claflin and Douglas Booth. Laura has also adapted Sarah Waters’ TIPPING THE VELVET for the stage and in 2018, Laura adapted Jane Austen’s unfinished novel THE WATSONS for the stage for Chichester Festival Theatre.

You can find out more about Edna St. Vincent Millay and read more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/edna-st-vincent-millay

Laura visited The Poetry Exchange in London. She is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.

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Ashes of Life

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;

Eat I must, and sleep I will, — and would that night were here!

But ah! — to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!

Would that it were day again! — with twilight near!

Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;

This or that or what you will is all the same to me;

But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through, —

There's little use in anything as far as I can see.

Love has gone and left me, — and the neighbors knock and borrow,

And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse, —

And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow

There's this little street and this little house.

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In this episode, Sam talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'The Hug' by Thom Gunn.

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Sam visited The Poetry Exchange in Manchester Central Library, as part of the celebrations of International Mother Language Day in the city.

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Many thanks to our partners Manchester Poetry Library, Manchester Libraries and Manchester UNESCO City of Literature for hosting us so warmly.

You can find 'The Hug' in 'The Man with Night Sweats' by Thom Gunn, published by Faber & Faber in the UK and Farrar, Straus & Giroux in the USA.

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Sam is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Sarah Butler and Alistair Snell.

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The Hug 

​by Thom Gunn

It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined

   Half of the night with our old friend

       Who'd showed us in the end

   To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.

       Already I lay snug,

And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.

I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,

       Suddenly, from behind,

In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:

        Your instep to my heel,

    My shoulder-blades against your chest.

    It was not sex, but I could feel

    The whole strength of your body set,

            Or braced, to mine,

        And locking me to you

    As if we were still twenty-two

    When our grand passion had not yet

        Become familial.

    My quick sleep had deleted all

    Of intervening time and place.

        I only knew

The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.

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Thom Gunn, 'The Hug' from 'The Man with Night Sweats.' Copyright © 1992 by Thom Gunn. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved

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In this episode, Victoria talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost.

Victoria visited The Poetry Exchange in Battersea, London in 2019.

Victoria is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.

'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' is read by Fiona Bennett.

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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

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In this episode, Laura Furner talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'The Fury of Overshoes' by Anne Sexton.

Laura Furner is an arts producer living and working in London. A commended poet for the Foyle Young Poet of the Year Award in 2012, Laura went on to edit and publish work in the University of Leeds' creative arts magazine The Scribe, and has since worked with The Poetry Society and Poet in the City.

Laura visited The Poetry Exchange at London Podcast Festival at Kings Place in 2019.

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Our thanks to the Anne Sexton Estate and Sterling Lord Literistic Agency for allowing us to share the poem with you in this way.

Laura is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Andrea Witzke-Slot and Al Snell.

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The Fury Of Overshoes

by Anne Sexton

They sit in a row

outside the kindergarten,

black, red, brown, all

with those brass buckles.

Remember when you couldn't

buckle your own

overshoe

or tie your own

overshoe

or tie your own shoe

or cut your own meat

and the tears

running down like mud

because you fell off your

tricycle?

Remember, big fish,

when you couldn't swim

and simply slipped under

like a stone frog?

The world wasn't

yours.

It belonged to

the big people.

Under your bed

sat the wolf

and he made a shadow

when cars passed by

at night.

They made you give up

your nightlight

and your teddy

and your thumb.

Oh overshoes,

don't you

remember me,

pushing you up and down

in the winter snow?

Oh thumb,

I want a drink,

it is dark,

where are the big people,

when will I get there,

taking giant steps

all day,

each day

and thinking

nothing of it?

Reproduced by permission of SLL/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc. Copyright Linda Gray Sexton and Loring Conant, Jr. 1981.

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In this episode, acclaimed actor Prasanna Puwanarajah talks about the poem that has been a friend to him – 'Seachange' by Kate Genevieve.

Prasanna Puwanarajah is an English actor, director, writer and former junior medical doctor. He is known for Ten Percent, The Listeners, The Crown and many other credits on stage and screen. Prasanna recently wrapped on Ballywalter, his feature directorial debut, written by Stacey Gregg and produced by Empire Street Productions. He and Jed Mercurio are developing the drama series Breathtaking for ITV.

Prasanna's debut play Nightwatchman premiered at the National Theatre in 2011. He directed Moth at the HighTide Festival, and at the Bush Theatre, where it was a TimeOut Critics' Choice in the summer of 2013.  In 2019 he directed Venice Preserved at the Royal Shakespeare Company. His production of The Reluctant Fundamentalist was nominated for The Carol Tambor Award and the Amnesty International Freedom of Expressions Award at the 2018 Edinburgh Fringe.

Thank you to Kate Genevieve for giving us permission to share her poem. Find out more about Kate and her work here: www.kategenevieve.com

Prasanna Puwanarajah is in converastion with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Fiona Bennett and Michael Shaeffer.

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Seachange

by Kate Genevieve

For LP

Perhaps we are riding the moon’s path

Along the sea edge

Where things are less clear

And more alive?

My heart as full as the sea

Follows the shore line with certainty.

For here is a path drawn by desire.

A route touched by your darkness,

And mine.

Moon-struck.

Lit up by her generosity,

Touched by the light of strangers

Together with the old smile of wrinkled mountains

And all the living beings multiplying.

Something special grows in the emptiness -

Not innocence returned -

But wholeness,

Gold-seamed.

this night

This Day

On which so many doors fall open.

Let go!

The ocean ever rushes in to fill space revealed

With unforced irrepressible energy.

We can no more control a life's story

Than we can command the animals

Or hold back the tides

Or ordain the fated meetings of the world.

The door only opens at the right time.

Instead, receive the gifts of sea-change:

Take the moon-lit path along the shore

And meet what's fresh returning.

At one with Earth's desires

Awake to everything that's growing.

The mountain smiles.

She knows

It is more than time alone

Heals shattered pieces:

It is the gift of other beings.

For suffering dissolves

into the fullness of night,

With the memory that the dark bright night

Shines with love.

May all have eyes to see, ears to hear,

This night -

As full as the sea -

Beyond sense and naming.

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In this episode, acclaimed film, TV and Theatre Director John Crowley talks about the poem that has been a friend to him: 'The Death by Heroin of Sid Vicious' by Paul Durcan. 

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BAFTA winner and Tony nominated director John Crowley is internationally acclaimed for his work both on the stage and the screen, with credits including The Goldfinch (2019) and Brooklyn, which was nominated for three Academy Awards (including Best Motion Picture) and won the 2016 BAFTA for Best British Film.

John visited The Poetry Exchange in London. He is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.

Fiona reads the gift reading of 'The Death by Heroin of Sid Vicious'.

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The Death by Heroin of Sid Vicious

​by Paul Durcan

There – but for the clutch of luck – go I.

At daybreak – in the arctic fog of a February daybreak –

Shoulder-length helmets in the watchtowers of the concentration camp 

Caught me out in the intersecting arcs of the swirling searchlights.

There were at least a zillion of us caught out there –

Like ladybirds under a boulder –

But under the microscope each of us was unique,

Unique and we broke for cover, crazily breasting 

The barbed wire and some of us made it 

To the forest edge, but many of us did not

Make it, although their unborn children did –

Such as you whom the camp commandant branded 

Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols. Jesus, break his fall:

There – but for the clutch of luck – go we all.

‘The Death by Heroin of Sid Viscious’ by John Crowley - from A SNAIL IN MY PRIME: NEW AND SELECTED POEMS, The Harvil Press, 2011

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In this episode, Alida talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'De Ceder' / 'The Cedar' by Han G. Hoekstra. You will hear the poem in Dutch and in an English translation by Alida herself.

Dr. Alida Gersie is a widely published author and world authority on therapeutic story-work, the arts therapies, the uses of the arts in health and popular education. She designed and directed Postgraduate Arts Therapies training programmes at universities in the UK and abroad. Since the 1970’s she has advised leading thinkers on the uses of story to encourage pro-environmental policy and behavioural change. Alida is editor of and contributor to Storytelling for a Greener world: Environment, Community and Story-Based Learning. Stroud: Hawthorn Press, 2014.

www.hawthornpress.com/authors/alida-gersie/

Our thanks to Meulenhoff for granting us permission to share the poem with you. You can find 'De Ceder' in the original Dutch along with many other works by Han G. Hoekstra at dbnl.org - digitale bibliotheek vor de Nederlandse letteren.

Alida is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange team members, Andrea Witzke-Slot and Al Snell.

Al reads the gift reading of 'The Cedar'.

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De Ceder

by Han G. Hoekstra

Ik heb een ceder in mijn tuin geplant.

gij kunt hem zien, gij schijnt het niet te willen.

Een binnenplaats, meesmuilt ge, sintels, schillen.

en schimmel die een blinde muur aanrandt,

er is geen boom, alleen een grauwe wand.

Hij is er, zeg ik, en mijn stem gaat trillen,

Ik heb een ceder in mijn tuin geplant,

Gij kunt hem zien, gij schijnt het niet te willen,

Ik wijs naar buiten, waar zijn ranke, prille

stam in het herfstlicht staat, onaangerand,

niet te benaderen voor noodlots grillen.

geen macht ter wereld kan het droombeeld drillen.

Ik heb been ceder in mijn tuin geplant.

From 'Panopticum', Meulenhoff, 1946.

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The Cedar

by Han G. Hoekstra

translated by Alida Gersie

I have planted a cedar in my garden’s soil.

you too could see it, but it seems you don’t want to.

A yard, you snigger, slags and rot,

There’s mould that festers on the blinding wall.

There is no tree, a drab divider, nothing more.

It is there, I say, and my voice now trembles,

You too could see it, but it seems you don’t want to.

I point outside, where its slender, tender

trunk stands in radiant autumn’s glow, untouched,

and way beyond doom’s fickle tricks.

No worldly force can erode this vision.

I have planted a cedar in my garden’s soil.

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In this special feature length episode, recorded live at Latitude Festival, musician Nadine Shah and writer & theatre-maker Hannah Jane Walker talk about the poems that have been friends to them.

You can find out more about the brilliant work of Nadine and Hannah Jane Walker here:

www.nadineshah.co.uk

www.hannahjanewalker.co.uk

This is our first live show episode and features work by Philip Larkin, Elizabeth Alexander, Salena Godden and WB Yeats.

Discover more of the brilliant Salena Godden's work and seek out her collection 'Pessimism is for Lightweights' from Rough Trade Books.

We had a gorgoues time as part of The Listening Post at Latitude Festival 2019 and are delighted to be sharing it with you through our podcast!

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Days

by Philip Larkin

What are days for?

Days are where we live.

They come, they wake us

Time and time over.

They are to be happy in:

Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question

Brings the priest and the doctor

In their long coats

Running over the fields.

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Pessimism is for Lightweights

by Salena Godden

Think of those that marched this road before

And those that will march here in years to come

The road in shadow and the road in the sun

The road before us and the road all done

History is watching us and what will we become

This road is all flags and milestones

Immigrant blood and sweat and tears

Build this city, built this country

Made this road last all these years

This road is made of protest

And those not permitted to vote

And those that are still fighting to speak

With a boot stamping on their throat

There is power and strength in optimism

To have faith and to stay true to you

Because if you can look in the mirror

And have belief and promise you

Will share wonder in living things

Beauty, dreams, books and art

Love your neighbour and be kind

And have an open heart

Then you're already winning at living

You speak up, you show up and stand tall

It's silence that is complicit

It's apathy that hurts us all

Pessimism is for lightweights

There is no straight white line

It's the bumps and curves and obstacles

That make this time yours and mine

Pessimism is for lightweights

This road was never easy and straight

And living is all about living alive and lively

And love will conquer hate.

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In this episode, Farah talks about the poem that has been a friend to her – 'O Captain! My Captain!' by Walt Whitman.

Farah visited The Poetry Exchange in London. She is in conversation with The Poetry Exchange hosts, Michael Shaeffer and Fiona Bennett.

Fiona reads the gift reading of 'O Captain! my Captain!'

Fiona also mentions 'The Brittle Sea' by Paul Henry as part of this epsiode, which is available from Seren Books.

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O Captain! my Captain!

by Walt Whitman

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

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