Dear Poetry Scene of Brum,
I loved meeting you in pubs and coffee shops,
Amongst the ad hoc and well rehearsed verse that never stopped,
Summertime flip flops and festival dreadlocks
Spitting words like bullets … on level ten of ‘Black Ops’.
Whether we were levelling up or jamming,
Taking page to the stage and poetry slamming,
Speaking in Stirchley or howling
You never threw the towel in …
You turned whispers to growling and gave me teeth,
Gave me the strength to lift ten letters
To find out what was underneath …
Turn over a new leaf of this book that we call ‘poetry’,
Gave meaning to my voice …
So that everyone would know it’s me.
Yours sincerely x
spoz'S artefact
"I was always keen on making sure poets should be heard, so I tended to bring a small PA system, a mic and a stand to poetry events for poets to use. Whilst this wasn't the mic I used (this one's just for show!), this is the stand that did many a poetry gig with me. It's a bit battered and stuck together, though still does the job of standing up and holding a mic."
