We do love to stretch our audience’s artistic glands. At Rally & Broad’s last outing, ‘Ye Dancin’?’ (May 2014), we went for a bit of good ol’ poetry bingo – our esteemed poets and artists gave us some words that would be guaranteed to pepper their sets, and waited for ‘HOUSE’. And just to flavour it further, we promised a free ticket to our season finale to the best* poem that could be made up from the words on the bingo cards.
*best proved a tricky concept for us to qualify. Oh we tried, readers, we tried, but Rally & Broad are different and passionate beasts in their own fiery ways and had to agree to differ before fur flew. Thus, we have three winners: Rally’s Favourite, Broad’s Favourite and Definitely Most Amusing.
Anyway. Thanks to all! You are most marvellous. xx
I wrapped my dreams up long ago
clingfilmed ambitions for my one man show,
catalogued in the Library of my mind
Unashamed, I’ve told myself ‘they’re easy to find’.
I’ve busied myself with pseudo education
Parroting Ted Talks like a fountain of information
But now I can no longer hold onto it all,
Like a gecko on a teflon pan, I’m starting to fall.
No man is an island but i have been a yacht
Pushing away the talent I’ve got
Hiding out on the pacific seas
hoping that nobody notices me.
But now I notice my own reflection
‘Lines on my forehead.
My party is getting late.
The dancers gone to bed.’
But before the music has ended I’ll smoke the joint of life,
Cut off a slice of pie with a suspended knife,
Smother it in cream
Fuck the prayers to God, just devour the dream.
‘What Ted did’
Aberdeen one week, Earsham the next,
the middle of the Pacific if he can reach it.
Always on a bus, or a yacht,
or a plane, or whatever you’ve got.
The journey is the destination,
each stop a new beginning,
the buffet car his staple diet.
But today he sits quiet
ignoring the bagged sausage roll,
dog earing a stolen libary book.
Six Rule of Public Speaking.
For the award ceremony, for bravery.
And two more: Caring for Geckos,
and How To Roast A Joint
And he’d stand in front of them,
and tell them
how he’d pulled that girl from the
How he’d thought nothing of it,
How anyone would have done the same.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t know the man who did.
but he told Ted he could take
It’d never make the final edit
to the ears of the well-heeled,
well meaning types, with mint leaves
in their water.
So unashamed, he told them.
It was him.
He did it on a whim.
He’d been given free reign.
He could embellish the hour,
where, why and when of it.
So the unknown man could help
his sadness benefit.
Definitely Most Amusing
He still kept his head
Event when we were getting red
And I don’t like to get too specific
But he took me clean across the Pacific
He said ‘come with me on my yacht…’
But I said NOT
‘You’re missing the point
And give me that joint
I love poetry, you wanna hear some?’
He said ‘Fuck no, I’m from Earsham.’