WELCOME TO VIRTUAL DODO TWO
Welcome to the second virtual show from Dodo Modern Poets. The success of the first has inspired more participants, with around 30 open mic poets supporting our featured performers..
:Later in the show I'm including a new poem that's literally out of this world but first we begin with our featured acts.
HEATHER MOULSON - wry accounts of adolescent angst are among the highlights of Heather's work. She won the Brian Dempsey Memorial competition in March and her pamphlet, Bunty I Miss You, is out now. More information: heathermoulsonpoet.com
PROJECT ADORNO - veterans of many an Edinburgh Festival the group present a one-off lockdown special featuring a selection of snap, crackle and pop songs. Themes include 8 bit computer games, Mark Twain, and the Eurovision Song Contest. Think of it as Top of The Pops, only with the same act on all the way through. .More information: http://www.projectadorno.net/
We hope you enjoy the show
All the best,
DODO MODERN POETS
OPEN MIC SPOTS - VIDEOS
Kate B Hall
POEMS ON THE PAGE Our show continues with poems on the page from 13 poets.
It is February. From the tracks beyond the cemetery the last train defies the dark, defies the dark
beyond the cemetery. It is February. Onto the tracks a body may fall, fall from the bridge
the bridge that springs over the tracks, the tracks on which a body may span, horizontal
east to west or west to east, never north to south south to north. Horizontal.
Too late, too late to grind the brakes, the brakes too late if a body breaks on the tracks.
The woman at the window sees the man on the bridge to the man on the bridge the woman at the window
Spanning the tracks that the driver can see but not a body spanning the tracks
there is no body spanning the tracks as he moves on, moves on defying the dark
beyond the cemetery. It is February. The rails are sharp the night is clear, he is on time.
The driver’s on time. All is ordered in this dark. He’s taken advice. He can implement procedures. Procedures.
Vera climbs the stairs of the bridge, sees the man on the bridge hears the cry of the woman at the window but not the word.
She is alone.
He cuts a swathe towards the tunnel. He is on time he is a man who defies the dark
he is a man moving on, moving on through the night the night is ordered, he is ordered
the driver’s on time. He’s taken advice. He keeps his hand he stays his hand, he can implement...
The boy asleep under the bridge hears shuffling on the bridge hears a woman’s cry. He doesn’t move. It could be a ploy.
Procedures. He knows procedures. He knows this track. He knows the exact, the exact point
to release, to release pressure. The driver’s taken advice. The air is clear. The rails are sharp. He is a man defying the dark.
The man on the bridge hears the train on the track, hears a voice calling, footsteps dragging. He turns. She is cardigan-ed not white-coated.
It is February. They are beyond the cemetery. Beyond fear. The fear on the face of the man in the train of the man in the air.
THE DECALOGUE [© LORAINE SAACKS]
with the usual infusion of farfetched details –
one fable grew roots,
when some rambling recruits,
who’d had failed to stockpile,
found they were trapped in a desert exile!
while he’d just scale Mount Sinai for some trendy new rules;
Moses climbed up and down six or seven times,
fearful his flock enjoyed some petty crimes,
his suspected disgrace, was their sculpted gold calf,
at which his Supremo was loath to laugh!
generations wandering – all still on remand –
they’d lived forty years on glucose molecules,
but manna alone is the nectar of fools;
this food had a hint of Shipham’s fish paste,
but there was ne’er a call for defecating waste.
so, once more, he staggered, to his apex retreat,
where exchange was conferred, without a receipt,
but there was added engraving his eyes did not meet;
on the reverse of the covenant blue-print,
no-one bothered to turn it over and squint.
guaranteeing the nomads to be confused and vexed,
hieroglyphics confirmed milk and honey a-plenty,
but a rare shock would arrive in two thousand and twenty.
An autumn bird
'Ere the sky
Thought of spring,
And eternal night.