Archive for Write Out Loud

I’m back…

Posted in Frustrated, My Poetry, Poetry, Writing with tags , , , , , on January 3, 2010 by sassysezzy

Hello poetry lovers.  After a hugely barren poetical period I’m back.  I felt a little fed up with it all and I allowed life and Christmas to take over, but hey, it’s a New Year full of possibilities! (Sunday Scribblings think so too!)  The following is a poem I read for the first time back in November in ‘The Arty Types Show’ in Wigan.  I am also working on another poem that I want to finish in time for Write Out Loud in Bolton on Jan 17th.  Nothing like a deadline to get the creative juices flowing.  Ages ago I sent some poems into ‘Ambit’ for consideration and I’m still waiting to hear.  I wonder if they realise what hope people pin on their reply.  Perhaps no news is good news?

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This was written to be performed.  How well do you  think it reads on the page?

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I’m Death

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I’m death and I’m knock knock knocking at your door

Feel my touch

When you last said goodbye

Who’d think it would mean so much, so much.

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Are you enjoying that drink in your hand?

Could it be your last?

Let me see you to your car

I’ll get your home real fast.

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I’m the ice on the road

I’m the clot in your blood

I’m the train off the tracks

I’m the cause of the flood.

I’m the proud pavement slab

I’m the gasping for breath

I’m not learning to swim

Yeah baby I’m death.

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I’m famine, tsunami, I’m earthquake, I’m fire

I’m the ember that lights the destructive bushfire.

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I’m death and I’m knock knock knocking at your door

You’re on my list

When you kissed your loved one

It was the last kiss, the last kiss.

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Trot along now for your fag outside

Honest I’ll leave you be

But feel that craving deep inside…

Yes, that’s me.

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I’m the pain in your chest

I’m the rabid dog bite

I’m the poorly wired house

I’m the bump in the night.

I’m the disease in your liver

I’m the lump in your breast,

I’m the rot in your lung

Yeah baby, I’m death.

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I’m the dead battery in your smoke detector

Sweet dreams my lovelies, I’m out to getchya.

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I’m the voice in your head that says jump, jump jump…

I’m your last rasping breath

It’s been very nice to meet you

Love and kisses, Death.

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Please comment!

My Poetry Performance Has Been Reviewed!

Posted in My Poetry, Poetry with tags , , , , on October 10, 2009 by sassysezzy

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.

Latest Poem

Posted in My Poetry, Poetry with tags , , , on September 21, 2009 by sassysezzy

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.)

You Are The Cauldron

Posted in My Poetry, Poetry with tags , , , , on August 16, 2009 by sassysezzy

You’ve taken yourself, the cauldron

You’ve poured in spine of stress

Spleen of doubt, eye of suspicion

And let it simmer

And simmer

And simmer

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You’ve cut out the tongue of communication

Dripped in dragons loneliness

Ground to a pulp tenderness

And let it simmer

And simmer

And simmer.

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You’ve taken yourself, the cauldron

Carefully added bitter words

Twisted memories and spite

And let it simmer

And simmer

And simmer.

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Mind you, I was the Witch that stirred the spoon.

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I read this poem at Write Out Loud tonight along with ‘Bowl of Pea’s Aug 2009

Write Out Loud – Performance Poetry Night

Posted in My Poetry, Poetry with tags , , , on August 15, 2009 by sassysezzy

This Sunday I will be going to Write Out Loud, a poetry performance group, in Bolton.  They say on their website:

“Some people go to Lanzarote, the Bahamas or Blackpool for their summer holidays.
But for mine, I go down to the Howcroft Inn, Pool Street Bolton, where the ale is good, the sandwiches are free and the company is welcoming and wonderful…and the poetry is extra fine.
So come down to the Howcroft at 8pm this Sunday and help me enjoy my summer holiday!
All together now “We’re all going on a summ….”

I’ve read my poetry there before several times and can highly recommend this friendly group.  They are particularly welcoming to newcomers.  All you have to do is turn up before eight and say you want to read.  The evening is split in two with each poet reading a poem before and after the break.  The first time I went I was blown away by the talent.

Take a look on their website and see if there is a Write Out Loud group or other event in your area.

Sarah reads ‘It Wasn’t A Life’

Posted in Poetry, Video with tags , , , on June 27, 2009 by sassysezzy

This was recorded at the fantastic Bolton branch of ‘Write Out Loud’ check out their website for all things poetical across the UK.