What A Performance! Roz Hall

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Published: February 6th 2012

Kindle Edition

51 pages


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What A Performance!  by  Roz Hall

What A Performance! by Roz Hall
February 6th 2012 | Kindle Edition | PDF, EPUB, FB2, DjVu, AUDIO, mp3, RTF | 51 pages | ISBN: | 3.78 Mb

Roz Hall, the Per Verse poet in greater depth - but just as much fun!Excuses and Fine WordsI used to read nursery rhymes, of course, and simply lashings of Enid Blyton consumed under the bedclothes, by torchlight – although, thinking about it, itMoreRoz Hall, the Per Verse poet in greater depth - but just as much fun!Excuses and Fine WordsI used to read nursery rhymes, of course, and simply lashings of Enid Blyton consumed under the bedclothes, by torchlight – although, thinking about it, it was more Grimm’s Fairy Tales, with its rich and evocative prose, that watered the seed of the future poet.

Whatever inspired it, the plant started off in pretty fertile ground and grew away quite happily, unfettered - until the day that grammar school caught hold of it and tried to pin it to the fence.I particularly remember being asked there what we thought the poet meant when he said what he said.

With the benefit of hindsight, this was quite a reasonable question of a student of literature- but at the time it appeared no more than utterly inconsequential. I kited it straight out of the open window, and as I watched the War Poets fluttering and diving along its tail, I resolved there and then to give formal English Literature a wide berth. Indeed, what vast collective knowledge has streamed out of teachers’ mouths, glanced off the tousled heads of students and been ricocheted out of classroom windows?

Must be pretty thick out there by now.But English Language? Now, that was a different kettle of fish altogether. Loved it. Learned the rules and got patted on the back for being able to employ them. Give me a blackboard full of incorrect punctuation and I’d be straining at the leash to be up there and scribbling it right.

I can still parrot the useful phrases that taught me how to travel unscathed along the rutted road of our irregular grammar – “Running down the stairs to lunch, a member of staff passed me.” Wonderful picture of inexactitude- not taught enough nowadays. For how much junk mail do you get in your daily post, which begins, “As a valued customer, I am writing to tell you about …” when it is YOU who is the valued customer- not the writer?Then one day, steeped still in these comfortable rules, I picked up something written by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas and it was just like having my head flushed down the loo.

Not that I have actually been thus baptised- I just can’t think of a better way to describe the transition from being so bogged down in rules and then finding yourself rising up again, flushed with excitement, and all in an instant –“Dogs in the wet-nosed yards …” did it for me, then, “In my seashaken house, on a breakneck of rock,”and I was, well, washed away! Yes- I recognised quickly enough the transferred epithet that had been ground into us at school, but such made-up words, woven with their own rhythm?Stunning!

The butterfly was off- skimming over careful passages with careless abandon- touching down every so often to study more carefully when decent nectar was to be had. It was a rapid and intoxicating flight of fancy that needed to be tested out, so next I was off to the local Poetry Group to get moderated.Rather a scary start, surrounded by knowledgeable people who had the great masters by heart- but within a few visits, an understanding of the craft and discipline of poetry was sinking in. I found that I could write on pretty much any given subject in varying styles and so unearthed a facility for doing it, that I hadn’t even known had lain buried …It was sensuousness- it was philosophy- it was irony and above all a good old laugh that I found I could write about.

All the shared experiences of life- lifting the rooves off suburban houses and finding all those little metaphorical sets of white buttocks bouncing up and down in unison, orchestrated by that common trust in our personal uniqueness.



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