Captain’s Log 06/05/16 12:38
I walk over to John’s house and try to drop off his poem before I go on holiday. It strikes me that this is the first time I’ve ever door-to-door’d without a big, thick winter jacket on. It’s the first summer outing of Door-to-Door Poetry! Continue reading “John’s Poem”
The Byker Wall: A long block of 620 flats with a reputation for violence and general dodgy-ness. When I told people I was going, they all made the same noise: “Oh?” I asked my friend Pat what the noise meant, Continue reading “The Byker Wall”
Captain’s Log 26/03/16 12:57
I knock on Alex’s door and a girl in a dressing gown answers. “Are you the poet?” she asks smiling, it feels weird that she knows who I am just by guessing. Continue reading “Alex the Diver”
Captain’s Log 18/03/16 12:33
I
step into Aquanorth Diving Centre. There’s no one in the shop. The only sound is the faint hum of traffic on the Coast Road. Continue reading “Aquanorth and Helen’s Poem”
Captain’s Log 30/01/16 14:01
I’m walking over to Amy’s house on a Saturday afternoon and the sun’s out for the first time in ages. I’ve got a poem in my shiny brown briefcase and I’m feeling quietly confident. But even a few days before this it was a very different story. Continue reading “Amy’s Poem”
Captains Log 06/12/15 2:10 pm
I wake up feeling reckless. I met up with some old friends last night, one I hadn’t seen in a year. I’m hungover. I consider putting this off, staying in bed reading I, Robot and eating cold beans from the tin.
Good news! My test flight finished and it was loads of fun. I went to Kyle’s house first with his poem about how crap it is to go surfing in Scarborough.
Having had a chance to think about it, I decided it would be better if I knocked on his door and offered to perform it as well. That would be a bit more personal, wouldn’t it?
Last Saturday I tried something terrifying that I’ve been thinking about doing since last year. In my day-to-day life as a performance poet, I meet a load of people who think poetry is boring and irrelevant to their lives. (I don’t think it’s their fault, by the way, I blame the school syllabus.)
Door-to-Door Poetry 