Bennetts Hill Blues E-Book

Loen Priestnall

• Herausgeber: Verve Poetry Press
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 32

Beschreibung

Leon Priestnall was something quite rare on the Spoken Word circuit – a romantic, a lost soul, with so few of the right answers and so many of the wrong ones. His poems are full of questions, not solutions, or even a step further back from that – are asking the question of what questions to ask. In his work, he isn't setting himself up as any kind of answer – he is as wrong as he is right, behaves badly as often as correctly. Often too confused to be able to move – beyond lighting another cigarette, taking another drink, running for the door – or speak. Often trapped inside the circle of his thoughts, which are a riot of possibilities and recriminations, what-ifs and why-nots. That he is out and trying to engage at all feels like some kind of triumph. And he is out, in the locked throng of weekend bar-life, amidst the shouts and the laughter, the thrum of music, the night-life characters that appear and disappear like ghost-train skeletons, there as large and loud as life, until they are suddenly gone. He is out, trying to join in somehow. Either that or trying to forget. The other triumph is the language and energy of these hopeful no-hope poems. The lines sparkle like sharpened knives under the reflected light of glitter-balls. From Johnny, the 'flat out scoundrel rat/ with a scowl, prowling round your council flats,' to Taxi Girl; 'a rock n' roll Marilyn Monroe … waiting for a sunrise myth-busting insomniac,' – from 'the narcissistic weight of a post-modern baby Hitler with a twitter' to Leon himself, wishing he 'was unhurried, mild, unafraid, perhaps colder, not so wild,' myriad characters are brought to life with single breath-taking phrases, before the night, still young, but grown oh – so old, takes them off on their way again. The upshot of all this is a glowing collection of wild and passionate verse, full of rhythm and urgency, from a poet with a glorious way with words. Leon was such an incredible performer – all heart and agitation and countless voices – the worry was always that we would struggle to stick him to the page. This book puts those worries well and truly to bed. Hopefully they won't 'wake up the following morning/ next to some pricky pick up artist/ who knew how to seduce his way/ into [their] low self esteem…' We are very proud of this first and only collection from Leon, who passed on Jan 19 2021 and leaves such a huge hole. Also including guest poems by Jack Crowe, Bethany Slinn and Scarlett Ward.

Leseprobe

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Leon Priestnall is a poet based in Birmingham. He has performed his poems up and down the country, headlining at The Door in the Birmingham Rep and performing spontaneous verse on BBC Radio. He is also host and founder of Birmingham spoken word night Howl. This is his first collection of poetry and is a retropective of his work between 2007 and 2017.

https://vervepoetrypress.com/2018/05/10/leon-priestnall/

www.facebook.com/leonpoetry

PUBLISHED BY VERVE POETRY PRESS

Birmingham, West Midlands, UK

www.vervepoetrypress.com

[email protected]

All rights reserved

© 2018 Leon Priestnall

The right of Leon Priestnall to be identified as author if this work has been asserted in accordance with section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

No part of this work may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, recorded or mechanical, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

FIRST PUBLISHED JUNE 2018

Printed and bound in the UKby TJ International, Padstow

ISBN: 978-1-912565-04-7

ePub ISBN: 978-1-912565-97-9

For my Mother

and in loving memory

of my Father.

CONTENTS

The Sun On The Hill

Collision

Johnny

Bothersome Beauty

Painted Jar

Terrible

Easy Judgement

Taxi Girl

Sudden Ache

The Path

Blockade

The Tree Stump Of Solitude

Educated

A Kid

Barstool Blues

The Deep Down Whatever It Is

Amy

Like Lightening

Riddled

Side By Side

Loose Leaf

Simple And Plain

How Easy

Byron And Keats

Sylvia

Worn Out

Too Much

The Game

Poem

Know her

Leon Introduces Jack Crowe, Bethany Slinn and Scarlett Ward

Acknowledgements

Bennetts Hill Blues

The Sun On The Hill

Half drunken slobs

and filled-with-self-pity fights.

Wine bottle wisdom

guides us through these city nights.

The pretty types, wild with the bad boys

as nice guys, wallow in their beer.

An old eccentric on his own,

holding the bar, observes the madness through his sneer.

A single woman in her fifties,

but no more than twenty in her mind

shakes in bullet dodging fashion

as if for her tonight's designed.

A young man of twenty four is sober

preparing for his next fight.

A boxer, with a release for his aggression -

the calmest one around us, the most chilled out one in sight.

A former womaniser broods

because he's finally broken hearted.

Broke his rule and fell in love,

now he's back where he started.

And a married man grabs a bloke by the collar

just for flirting with his misses.

It calms down after five minutes,

then it's back to hugs and kisses.

A pseudo intellectual rambles philosophy,

he’s Aristotle with a bottle,

babbles louder than the music,

stream of consciousness full throttle.

And the indie lads are quite keen

in their tight jeans

hoping to find fiends

to fulfill their hipster dreams.

As a drag queen takes a drag of a cigarette,

a mad crack addict

with a passion for ballet

stops in front of them and pirouettes.

A group of wannabe thugs in the corner,

they nod their head to the beat.

All of them went to private school

but they want you to think they’re street.

And whilst all this is going on

the Poet just sits and feeds,

digesting from the narratives

to fulfill artistic needs,

to tell stories of betrayal,

of ecstasy and bliss,

that hard knock punch

the sweetest kiss.

Stories heavenly, stories foul,

they howl them!

so you know that the flow is strong.

So sit back and listen

as the Poet

let’s you know what is going on.

Collision

Charming folk with style’s fine,

but throwing up that vile wine?

Unrivalled angst.

Give me something to whine about and I’ll pine

without a doubt.

I haven’t got a clue.

I’m caught somewhere

between her mean curves and her tattoo.

I’ll take two shots for the needy in me,

two more to lower my inhibition.