Sunday, October 31, 2010
Jessica Maybury Nov 8th
Karen Nov 15th
Dana Bug Nov 29th
Kato Dec 6th
Titus Dec 13th
Weaver Dec 20th
Muse Swings Dec 27th
More drivers, new drivers, old drivers always needed !
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Just put your lips together and blow. Or is that whistling?
Either which way drivers are required.No previous experience, talent, or ability necessary, as can be seen from the previous drivers...(Ok,I'm joking, I'm joking, calm down!)
Next available driverless dates,in order of appearance, are... Nov 8th and Nov 15th followed by Nov 29th, Dec 6th, Dec 13th.
Ask not what these dates can do for you, but what you can do for these dates.Now is the time comrades to rise from the ranks, to proudly stick your nose above the steering wheel of life and show the world what you can do, to bravely take charge and steer a bus full of burgeoning and blustering creativity and mould it to the shape of your imagination ,then send it off round the highways and byways of the globe like a chariot of fire.
Think of the power, the adrenalin rush, the satisfaction in knowing that when the bus's hour of need came you were there at the bus stop with your wit, your wisdom, and your sandwiches.That you stood tall , climbed aboard, taking care not bang your head on the conductors pole, and with pride thumping in your chest like a rabbit in a shoebox,you magnificently and single handedly lead the people of the bus out, out, OUT! of the creative darkness and into the all embracing bright-lit dawn of POETRY!
Then in years to come when your golden child or grandchild looks flutteringly up into your kindly old face and asks ' 'Mummsie/Pater/Nanny/ Grandpa, what did you do in the poetry war?'
You can lift your wrinkly old chin up high and proudly say... 'Who the fuck are you?'
Well that's what my grandparents used to say to me anytime I asked them anything.
And from Dec 20th through to 27th I'll be driving a (un)spectacular reindeer powered CHRISTMAS Holiday SPECIAL bus on ice, with mince pies,pints of Baileys, and (temporarily) live dancing (well, running)Turkeys! Don't miss it! Ho! ho! ho! oh, no! no! no! Not yet!
Play it again Sam!!
You must now drive the bus
a place for each one of us
on it you can rely
The world will always welcome Bus Poets
as it drives by.
Friday, October 29, 2010
King of the cats.
Well it was All Hallows Eve
And I was all Hale fellow well met
Flying three sheets to the wind
Scared of neither man nor beast
As brave as a barrel of porter
Whistling, singing to the growing dark
Till passing a graveyard a cat spoke,
Stuck it’s scrawny black head through the railings and said
“Tell Balgeary that Bulgury is dead”
I sobered quick and looked and double looked
But no cat was anywhere to be seen
But the hairs raised upon my neck told me
It had not been a dream
I quickened my pace
To be gone from that place
But I couldn’t shift from my head
‘Tell Balgeary that Bulgury is dead’
I, now cold to the core, looked repeatedly over my shoulder,
No swig from any bottle on earth
could make my feel bolder,
my pace quickened till I ran
and ran and ran as fast as a man can
till I reached home in wet sweat to the bone
locked in the cold embrace of fear
And no-one was home save for my own dumb puss
Curled up warm upon the hearth
And I looked at Tussy and Tussy looked at me
And my fear melted like an ice cream in the
How foolish I’d been to believe a cat could talk
i poked my timid pet with the toe of my boot,
“Can you talk Tuss , can you talk to me?
I said aloud now brave as a lion, safe
In my own warm bright-lit home,
And like a lion my laughter and relief reared and roared
“Ha ha ha! Tell Balgeary Bulgary is dead ,indeed!”
Nearly creased in laughter was I till
My own humble cat sat up and whipped round on me
hissing , spitting and claws drawn,it's eyes emerald framed slits black as hell, and like a foul feline banshee shrieked
“ You drunken miserable fool! Balgury is dead, now I am King! Did you treat me well? Time will tell!”
And like lightning leapt over my shoulder and through the half door
Never to be seen again.
Based on a 'true ' story as told to Eric Cross in 1942 by Mr Buckley The Tailor from Cork and recorded in Irish Folktales edited by Henry Glassie and taken from The Tailor and Antsty by Eric Cross.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
It's the Poooowooowooetry Bus going like a bat out of hell all the way from Liz Gallagher's haunted hacienda in Gran Canaria (what could be scarier?)
Some delightfully well thought out prompts from the ex welder and beach volley ball champion. You can even write a triolet in the toilet if you like. But it's time for shenanigans and things that go bump in the night like your big toe off the bedstead, it's time for howling at the moon and for emerald eyed black cats to be hissing and staring into space, it's time for banshees to be crooning outside your window grooming their long black hair and matching toenails. Look out for witches upon their broomsticks silhoutted by a full and silvery moon and annnoying little monsters to be throwing eggs at your house.
So get over HERE
and write a poem about it all, go now go, the moon is a creeping it's silvery light across the blood stained floor to the dark shadowy corner of the castle where lurks the freshly butchered flesh and the, the, the mother in law......... COOKING...... AAAAAAAaaaarrrggghhhh!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
And death, like life, is a moveable feast
living in the ghetto
drinking from the bottle
swimming to the bottom
let the creme de la creme float
let shit float
let corked bottled
desperation float to the top
that's the now of us
the reality of decay
when we met
twas the meeting of the waters
baptism of fire
meeting of minds
union of souls
that hold us still
still holds us
pinball life ricochet around us
till we meet again
don't know where
don't know when
The Meeting Of The Waters,Thomas Moore
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that nature had shed o`er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
`Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh! no - it was something more exquisite still.
`Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
in thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Slán Mo Cara
Stephen James Smith
Stiofán Séamus Mac Gabhann
Poet & MC @ The Glór Sessions (Music & Poetry)
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Monday, October 18, 2010
Love is. Is love?
Bread and milk and cheese
Did the black board duster
Bring you to your knees
Chalk and cheese?
Or any of these?
Did love find you
Overcome and bind you
Tie you to the tracks
Beat you to the rhythm of your heart?
Why do we fall in love ?
Fall from the tallest tower
Fall from grace
Why do fools fall, in love,
Hand in hand through the
HitThe ground ?
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Any way here goes.
He’s there in the mirror.
he was always there,
waiting, punching the clock
I was too busy, too young
And now he’s here
For sure, for real,
And I will learn Tolerance
I will give acceptance,
Agree to recognize him
get used to him
and though I will never
grow to like him
I must be thankful
That who I was
Is no longer here
who he is yet to be.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
So let's get back to our roots the virtual poetry bus is being driven by Niamh Bagnell. A first cousin of the Guinness family and a multi millionaire. Niamh enjoys flying her cushion shaped helicopter and hitting golf balls into the river Liffey from her penthouse suite.A shrewd businesswoman, she once made front page news for buying up all the world stocks of ping pong balls, creating a shortage that nearly brought rioting to the streets, before selling back a limited amount of ping pong balls for €1,000 each! A similar scheme involving Skoda motor cars, backfired.See what she's on about HERE
And many thanks to NanU (Hypnotist, juggler, and psychic to the stars) for coming to the rescue last week. Spare a thought for poor Vicky of The Watercats who is all out of sorts at the moment, but will I'm sure be back fighting fit and regailing us with Watercatness tales and tribulations, soon.
And finally, buy The Poetry Bus Magazine!! There's a big button up there you can't miss it.One of the poets in the mag is in prison and I'll be joining him if I don't pay the printers!
People of the world I LOVE YOU! Now go forth and make pottery. Er, I mean poetry.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
The mags are nearly all printed but the inserts(Colm Keegan's 'Butane Boy' free full colour print) aren't ready yet.That's the bad news,the good news is all will be ready to be picked up tomorrow at 5.30pm! Yippeedoodle!
More good news is that some lovely person donated £100 the other day.Thank you very much to them.I don't have enough money to pay for the first print run but it doesn't matter too much, the printers are letting me take the magazines to sell,and then pay.Which is really very good and trusting of them, I think they like the idea of what we are doing.In fact there is a lot of goodwill towards this project which is very heartwarming and encouraging.Thanks to all of you out there for your support.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The writing of a wrong
A kite tail out of reach
Around the corner
Over the rainbow
In your smile
Hides the knife
Life is happy
I am happy
Happiness is madness
Is a kiss a cry
A wicked grin
Have a gin
Altered states are ironic
The acquisition of a disposition
Under the table
In the fable
Within a moment
A dream within
A case for the defence
A baited breath
The accumulation of wealth
Putting others beneath your feet
Happiness is the sweet
beat of the sour
the minute of their longest hour
has a ball
In the hall
all it’s cracked up to be
A forgotten thing
An unproven law
An unconstitutional right
An institutional wrong
The love torn opium of the
Life Liberty and
the persuit of
ask don't tell
show don't explain all answers
The Bus has NO driver this week. The engine's running but the seat is empty.So this is a rare opprtunity for anarchy, mischief and mayhem. Go wild, go mad, write like crazy
Do whatever you like ! Have a week off even, if you like, like Rachel Fox,
or write about anything at all, as suggested by Weaver,
or write about happiness as suggested by NanU.
Emerging writer says we should write about the Poetry Bus.
The lights are on but there's no-one home, we are one busman short of a picnic. Nan U will probably host so, I'll let ye know, the main thing is just write a poem, or have a week(end) off.
Take your choice and go for it! Look on this as an opportunity to go over a cliff in 25 tons of red metal. Wear strong underpants people. It's gonna be a bumpy ride but just as a captain must go down with his ship, so an Eejit must go OTT with his bus, we are rudderless but we are not lost!
Avast,onwards! Arr! We are on the road to nowhere, come on and write!
Friday, October 1, 2010
The real Poetry BUs Magazine made out of trees is at the printers gettting born.I'm expecting healthy A5 sized babies sometime on Monday.
Proof reading is yet another skill I don't have.I found 21 mistakes in the 3rd proof copy that I hadn't noticed in the 2nd. I just pray I've spelled everybody's names right every time and put all of each poem in. Apart from that ,what can go wrong? (Nervous laugh, bordering on the maniacal.)
I'd put one of the artists in the list of poets on the back cover and left out Nancy Uhrhammer's first h, something you had already told me Nancy! Only on the cover mind, all the other h's were there, honest.
And Susan Sanford (ArtSparker) who designed the cover actually had a new corrected cover back to me within a couple of hours of my desperate email to her in America.How cool is that.You are a star Susan!
I've checked postal rates and apparently there are only 2 ,which surprised me. Unfortunately we are a couple of grammes into a higher price band. Anyway the good ting about that is the cost of posting 2 mags is the same as posting one. ie €1.35 for The Republic of Ireland and €3 for the rest of the world.So the further away you live the better the value.I propose for ultimate satisfaction you all go and live in Timbuktu and have the magazines posted there. I don't actually know where Timbuktu is but it sounds a very long way away. It could be in Cornwall for all I know! I'm not going to charge for packaging,I'm planning to get reems of brown paper and some parcel tape and sticky address labels tomorrow.
So there you have it.First issue ofThe Poetry Bus Magazine shjould be available on Monday afternoon and if so I will start posting them out on Tuesday.
It could be the start of something, it definitely won't be the end!
Ps. Three excellent suggestions just in:
1) from NanU -write to the theme of happiness
2)From Rachel FOx -Have a week off!
3) From Weaver- write whatever you like!
So in the absence of The Stray Cats (midnite deadline) choose from any of the three above!
Brilliant! Thanks fair lady girl women things!