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The Aberfeldy Festival poetry limb is back and bigger.

This year it will include poetry danders, poets and pints, poetry/film blends and the inaugural ‘Loose Tongues, Live Poetry’, where traditional page poets meet performance poets meet slam poets meet stand-up poets, and everything between and beyond, in a fast-paced and wildly varied live poetry event! Poets confirmed so far include Tim Turnbull, Ash Dickenson, Andy Jackson, Sally Evans, Kenneth Steven, Brian Johnstone, Chrys Salt and many more.

 

Friday 31/10 - Corbenic Poetry Path

12.30pm-2pm on The Corbenic Poetry Path.

An introduction to the poetry path with Kenneth Steven reading some of his poems that will feature on the path.

 

Saturday 1/11 - A Poetry Dander

10.00am-11.30am

A wander round some of Aberfeldy’s quiet spaces with poems along the way from Kenneth Steven

 

Saturday 1/11 - Guerrilla Story Telling

Claire Hewet and friends on a storytelling rampage through the town.

Various unknown times and venues!

 

Saturday 1/11 - Loose Tongues, Live Poetry!

12pm – 4pm in The Birks Cinema.

The fast moving and varied performance poetry event with poets doing their stuff in fifteen – thirty min time slots. Poets include Tim Turnbull, Ash Dikinson, Patricia Ace, Mary MacDougal, Sally Evans, Andy Jackson, Jon Plunkett, Bec Cameron, Hazel Buchan, Chrys Salt and more.

 

Saturday 1/11 - ‘Fields of War’

4pm in The Birks Cinema main auditorium.

Brian Johnstone and Chrys Salt with their award winning poetry and film project

 

Saturday 1/11 - The Poets & Their Pints

A relaxed poetry in the pub session after the  ‘Fields of War’ with a flow of drinks and words from poets reading to each other while locals and visitors look on bemused Andy Jackson, Tim Turnbull & others.

 

Lost in translation
When I said you should
grab the bull by the horns,
I thought you would understand.
I never though you would
take it literally, as though
there is no such thing
as metaphor in Brazil.
What made it worse
was that you thought I said
you should grab the bull
by the balls.

Jon Plunkett, 2012

 

 

An Excavation
The grids arranged with lines and pegs, we cut
through turf and topsoil, expose each stratum,
scratching cautiously, guided down by plumbs.
The layers are flecked with human detritus.
They offer up enigmata, half clues
to what is past, bits of leather, glass, pots,
hair and bone, wantonly discarded or lost
by the careless, or carefully laid out.

We hold the fragments to the light, inspect
them from all angles, fill out rough sketches
into portraits of long departed others.
Come night we don’t know if we recollect
or invent them; they look like us, these wretches.
Listen now, someone is digging above us.

Tim Turnbull, 2010

The Poem Goes to Prison (SPL 2010, ed. Kate Hendry)

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