I will be performing at ‘The Saturday Arty Types Show’ in Wigan

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I have been asked to perform at ‘The Saturday Arty Types Show‘ on Saturday 21st November.  I’m really looking forward to this event and am described in their listing as:

“Great poet, playful, sexual, yet serious and touching.”

You’re A Bad Man

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You’re a bad man

A great big bear of a bad man

My number one fan

But still a bad man

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You’re a quiet thinker

A brooding, sultry, quiet thinker

A bit of a drinker

But I like a thinker.

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Stop doing that.

You know what I mean

I can see your thoughts

And they’re none too clean

Because you’re a bad man

A great big bear of a bad man

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You’re broken goods

Self inflicted broken goods

You’re not out of the woods

My broken goods.

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You’re crushed inside

Bruised and hurt and crushed inside

There’s no where to hide

That you’re crushed inside

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I’ve told you once

I won’t say it again

I can see your thoughts

So weak are men

Especially when… you’re a bad man

A great big bear of a bad man.

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Still, I like having a fan.

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(I performed this poem at Write Out Loud in Wigan this November 2009)

New Poems on my ‘My Poetry’ page.

Click on my ‘My Poetry’ page to see my latest poems.

Look at this myth/poem:

This is certainly adventurous!

‘The Goblins Market’ is a long poem and definitely worth reading.  The author is unknown.  It’s about resisting temptation and sisterly love.  The longing for the fruit and pining away can only be compared with drug addiction.  The imagery at the end where the good sister tries to get some fruit for her sister who is wasting away is very brutal, even sexual!

Click here for ‘The Goblins Market’

 

What do you think?

My Poetry Performance Has Been Reviewed!

This is what was said about the poem in the post below, which I read at Write Out Loud (WOL) at The Tudor in Wigan.  For those of you who don’t know WOL is a performance poetry night.  If I’d known all I had to do was right something sexy to get a great review I would have done it ages ago!

“Sarah Crowther made her debut performance at the Tudor. I’ve seen Sarah at The Whycroft in Bolton. She’s a wolf wrapped in a Vixen’s coat. Precise diction. Sultry, super vocal delivery. A little Minx from Minxville. Men pay good money to listen to the sort of stuff that Sarah read last night – in the way that she read it. For those who missed out – and purely from memory, the premium telephone number begins 0-8-9-8… Or, save yourself a fortune and catch her performance next time. The red-blooded men in the audience were very nearly exploding.”

To see the rest of this review click here.

Sexy Poem (untitled at the moment)

I want you for my pet

I’ll keep you on a leash

I’ll wear devastatingly high heels

All because I want you for my pet.

I’ll take you to parties.

There’ll be champagne and cocaine.

I’ll let you have some if you promise to be really really bad.

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Your lips on my lips on your lips on mine

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I want you for my toy

I’ll bring you to your knees

I’ll wear all the things you like

All because I want you for my toy.

I’ll take you to hotels

There’ll be champagne and cocaine.

I’ll let you have some if you promise to be really really bad.

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Your skin on my skin on your skin on mine

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I want you for my slave

I’ll make you do my will

I’ll wear anything I want

All because I want you for my slave

I’ll take you, yes I’ll take you

There’ll be champagne and cocaine.

I’ll let you have some if you promise to be really really bad.

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Your flesh on my flesh on your flesh on mine

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Latest Poem

I read this last night at ‘Wright Out Loud’ in Bolton.  I have only just finished this, so it may be edited/refined some time in the future, but here it is, work in progress:

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Happy Christmas Mother

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‘Would you like a cup of tea? I asked Mother

As she slouched in her easy chair.

She stared into space with the telly on

Did she even know I was there?

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The Christmas adverts sang out in the darkness

(A lump in my throat I confess)

The shadows flickered the fairy lights flashed

The monochrome light hid the mess

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Well I’ve tried; I’ve extended the olive branch

I thought as I stirred her sweet tea

It’s always like this, it’s always my fault

The blame is left bluntly with me.

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Now’s not the time to reflect on my childhood

No success was ever enough

Always compared with some strangers off spring

No wonder I grew up so tough

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Christmas carollers sing loud on our door step

We hold hands, sitting silent and calm

‘They know we are here’ I whisper

As I quietly stroke her arm

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Raised and ruled with a rod of cold iron

Not an inch did she give it’s true

And even now you have to needle me

No love just hurt gets through.

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‘They’re gone’ I say as I peek through the curtain

The yellow lamplight fills the room

I move on through to the strip lit kitchen

So harsh compared to the gloom

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But there’ll be no more nagging from my mother

I look at the back of her head

The last tea you enjoyed was last Christmas

Two sugars and poison, you’re Dead.

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Somehow I know that you have forgiven me

The stench and flies have been a test

You would say we can get through it

Your sunken eyes in Sunday Best

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‘Would you like a cup of tea? I asked Mother

As she slouched in her easy chair.

She stared into space with the telly on

Did she even know I was there?

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(I wasn’t sure about the penultimate verse, is it necessary? What do you think?  Please comment.)

Poet’s, you should read this: “Love That dog” By Sharon Creech.

I first heard about this book on a facebook poetry group (I’m a bit behind the times, it was published in 2001) and then happened to stumble upon it whilst looking in the children’s section of the library with my daughter.  The person writing on the facebook poetry group quoted Walter Dean Myers ‘Love That Boy’ poem:

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Love that boy,

Like a rabbit loves to run

I said I love that boy

Like a rabbit loves to run

Love to call him in the morning

Love to call him

“Hey there, son!”

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These unusual lines stuck in my head.  There was something about the simplicity and repetition that got me.   Yes, it is in the children’s section but I am certain that it would be of interest to anyone interested in poetry, and that is because Sharon Creech creates the first investigations of a boy into poetry so vividly.  All the poems the boy explores are in the back of the book.  What is more unusual about this book is the way it is set out.  On first glance each page looks like poetry and this reflects the boys thoughts about what people think: “people thought it was a poem because it looked like one”.  I really enjoyed reading this, it only took an hour.  I enjoyed it because it was so unusual.  The Guardian are quoted on the back of the book as saying ‘This book is so quirky and original that it defies categorisation’ I think that is true!

Inspired to put words on a page…

I’ve just stumbled upon the coolest web site oneword.com. You have sixty seconds to write about the word they display.  It asks you not to think.  It’s really interesting to see different people’s approaches and responses.  The word today was Habitat.  I wrote:

“It was an alien habitat for a woman used to her own space. Too many people. Too much noise; she liked quiet, peace and quiet. She had to get out, get away. She picked up her things and made for the door. “

Not very poetic but not bad for 60 seconds!  Many of the responses were factual which really surprised me.  Looking back on what I have written is a frightening accurate reflection of how I have been feeling lately.  Oh great, now I have plummeted from a giddy creative high to a mother wracked with guilt low.  Great.

Two of my poems are being published!

Yes, you heard it here first, two of my poems are being published in the national poetry quarterly ‘Current Accounts’.  The two poems are ‘It Wasn’t A Life’ and ‘Maternal Streak‘ which are both on my ‘My Poetry’ page.  Very pleased and excited!