Friday 2 July 2021



A poem about house concerts. I organised some about seven years ago. You can read about the last one here. I have been talking to a couple of musicians recently about the possibilities of running another series once the pandemic allows, so I suppose this is what sparked the poem.

House Concerts

the first required a bucket precisely placed to ensure the snow melt from the unexpected leak above the bay window did not drip onto the artist

and could have also done without the drama that followed the cat snaffling a pistachio and getting the shell stuck in his palette   this was to the detriment of the song being sung

the second was perfection in itself   no words can describe the beauty of the evening

which led to some being less than impressed by the third   as if a peak can look less impressive from the other side

the fourth and last was different quiet love songs that carried across the still night

as we loaded the amps into their car the summer broke  big raindrops instantly cooling the air   the moment had ended    I moved house

What attracted me to the poem was that essentially it is a list details. Also the lines are far longer than anything I would usually write. I think it works. It is another watch this space poem.

The last three words I had used as the ending to another poem, something I have not posted because it was not going anywhere. I find that occasionally I salvage a line from the wreck of a failed poem. 

The photographs are from a trip to Barcelona in 2012. Those were the days...

Brooke Sharkey has a new single out on the 15th July, on Babylegs Records. It's called MMM Ja. I can't wait.

To whet you appetite here's Brooke live in 2020.

Until next time.

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