I’ve been writing poetry for the last 18 months or so; trying to capture, process and understand intense experiences - real and imagined, mine and others’, conscious and unconscious. I've struggled, since I was a child, to verbalise my subjective experiences and feelings, and so discovering poetry writing has felt like a liberation. It enables me to by-pass the anxiety often associated for me with other forms of communication. I’ve written quite a few poems. They grapple with anger, shame, anxiety, moral injury, lust, love, betrayal, abandonment, humiliation, and ... sea-serpents. I’ve submitted almost everything I’ve written to different literary publications. Being untrained, unskilled and inexperienced, I wasn’t expecting success. I just went ahead and submitted, just because, whether it’s between parts of oneself, or with others, writing is communicating. While finding out that rejection is the norm even for accomplished and experienced poets, I met some who kindly offered advice, feedback, and encouragement to keep going. Getting long-listed in a couple of amazing publications was a thoroughly unexpected delight. Then, back in April, I was blown-away to be told that four of my poems had been selected for publication in the utterly awesome periodical, Northern Gravy. I love the poetry and flash fiction that Northern Gravy showcases, and I can’t believe that my material is considered worthy of that company.
The poems they picked are ones that really churn me up, so, although I’m proud they were selected, I also feel mightily exposed. There’s a voice in my head saying that if I’d known there was a chance I’d actually be published, I’d have written about other things entirely! But I'm doing my best to go with the flow. They’re just poems; so they’re about whatever they mean to anyone who reads them.
I’m so grateful to Northern Gravy for the opportunity to bring my poems to a wider readership, and for the encouragement to keep writing. You can read the poems they published here: https://northerngravy.com/poems-by-wendy-dossett/
Then, recently, I got the opportunity to read some of my poems at a fringe event of the Conwy Classical Music Festival, at the most beautiful imaginable venue, The Hidden Chapel. Ahead of the event, Ralph, poetry editor at Northern Gravy, kindly offered to give me some mentoring. I had so many questions as a new performer, especially around what, and how much, to say about each poem before I read it. It's easy to over-explain, but it's also easy to say too little, and to waste the opportunity of giving an audience an experience that they might not get from just reading your poems. Also, my poems are extremely personal. I tend to write about experiences I wouldn't be able to talk about in another way. So saying anything 'about' them feels extra challenging.
I was a lecturer by profession, so you would think that I would take an event like this in my stride. However, reading poetry is different from other kinds of public-speaking, and about as far from academic public-speaking as it's possible to get. It feels wildly, irresponsibly, exposing. My heart was racing and my legs were shaking when I took the stage. But once I was there, I just took Ralph's advice and trusted my poems. I managed, I think, to strike the balance in my little introductions. I think, if anything, I erred on the side of saying too little, but I can build on that if I ever do it again. I might be kidding myself, but, as I read, I felt a sense of audience members being with me, responding to the imagery with their breath. They, and the other performers, were very kind afterwards. Some came up to me with comments that suggested that chords had been struck for them. I can't tell you what that meant to me. Four of the five poems that I read are, as yet, unpublished. I read
Salmon Spirit
River Woman (on the death of Nicola Bulley)
Reality Beach
Y Gogarth
My Dog Loves a Curtain
I won't share them here, because I’m still hoping that some of them might get published, and publishers prefer them not to have already appeared on personal blogs, websites or social media. If anything does come out in future, you will be the first to know!
Another great privilege of the Conwy Fringe event was the opportunity to listen to the other contributing poets and singer-songwriters. They were extraordinary. A few stand-outs for me (and they are difficult to choose, every performer was brilliant) were the powerful songs of a young singer-song-writer from Ireland called Alice, the tender songs of Dave Cheetham, and the stunning poetry of Alison Lock. The highlight of the event was to hear the recording of the poem 'The Gift' that Alison wrote for the Peace Crane Project, set to absorbing and meditative music by Hazel Sturt. Scroll down here to see the poem and find the recording. It is wonderful. The Peace Crane Project is a community art installation; a collaboration between St. Mary’s, Conwy, where it is installed, and Pensychnant Conservation Centre - a place dear to my heart! It involves more than 1000 origami peace cranes that serve as visual reminder of the dreadful legacy of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, and of the urgent need to continue work towards peace on our planet.
Thank you to all the brilliant contributors, to the lovely audience, and to Hazel Sturt for organising this amazing event,
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