Biography

I was born and raised on the Wirral, and have been writing and telling stories for as long as I can remember. I started experimenting with poetry while at university in Edinburgh in the mid 1990s. Since then, I have belonged to writers' groups in Durham, Milton Keynes and York (where I'm now based) and have won prizes in several poetry competitions.

I write to try and make sense of a crazy world around me, and the strange people that inhabit it. I love poetry that tells a story and I love to be around other people performing poetry. My favourite things include twilight, fairy stories, folk music and single malt whisky (not necessarily in that order), and my favourite colour is Indigo. My ambition is to prove that dragons really did exist and, in fact, quite possibly still do.

My first published work of any note was a joke that appeared in "The Dandy" in 1980. It's so awful I won't embarrass myself by repeating it here.

I am MC and co-organiser of the Speakers' Corner open mic evenings in York (www.yorkspeakerscorner.co.uk), which welcomes poets, storytellers, comedians and the occasional musician - anyone, in fact, who enjoys vocal performance of any kind. We run on the second Wednesday of every month in the upstairs room of the Yorkshire Terrier pub on Stonegate; doors open 7.30 pm and the entrance fee is a mere £1. Every month we feature a special guest as well as performers from the open mic.

I'm also responsible for The Poet's Soapbox (http://poets-soapbox.blogspot.com), an opinion blog based on my semi-regular column for the National Association of Writers' Groups' LINK magazine.

Here's an abbreviated version of my CV (up to date as of January 2010):

COMPETITION SUCCESSES (selected)

"Joni Melts Wax in a Saucepan": First Prize in Speakeasy Open Poetry Competition, 2004
"Why Do Poets Like Autumn?": Second Prize in Hastings International Poetry Competition, 2005
"Ironing": First Prize in Blaenau Gwent Poetry Competition, 2006
"Geography": First Prize in Envoi magazine open poetry competition no. 144, spring 2006
"Britannia Without Arms": Second Prize in Hastings International Poetry Competition, 2006
"Apple Core": winner of Hilary Mellon Award for a Minimalist Poem, Norwich Writers' Circle Open Poetry Competition, 2007
"Last Gasp": First Prize in Grace Dieu Writers' Circle Open Poetry Competition, 2007
"The Green Man": Runner-Up in Kent & Sussex Poetry Society Open Poetry Competition, 2008
"Valentine's Day is Over": Second Prize in Hastings International Poetry Competition, 2008
"Nobody Hurries in Harrogate": First Prize in Northampton Open Poetry Competition, 2009 (Rhyming Verse category)

A SELECTION OF MY PUBLISHED POETRY, to January 2009

"Common Grounds": published online in Transparent Words, issue 8, June 2005.
"Red Wine is Dangerous": published in Monkey Kettle, issue 21, 2005.
"Why Do Poets Like Autumn?": published in First Time, issue 50, April 2006.
"Geography": published in Envoi, issue 144, June 2006.
"I Know Where Gandalf Lives Now": published in Monkey Kettle, issue 26, November 2006.
"After the Party": published in Ninth Ragged Raven Press Anthology, March 2007.
"Conservatory": published in Envoi, issue 147, June 2007.
"Ironing": published in Aesthetica, issue 18, August 2007.
"The January Tennis Club": published in Pulsar, issue 48, September 2007.
"Bringing Back Poems": published in Tenth Ragged Raven Press Anthology, March 2008.
"Ash Wednesday": published in Aesthetica Annual, 2008.
"The Birkenhead April Fools": published in Orbis, issue 145, autumn 2008.
"Breathing for Me": published in eleventh Ragged Raven Press Anthology, March 2009.
"A Long Way to Fall": published in twelfth Ragged Raven Press Anthology, March 2010.

Samples

PRE ERECTION PROMISES

The Prime Minister's taking Viagra today;
He took part in a clinical trial.
Now he's offering it as a boon to the nation
to fend off the doldrums of soaring inflation
and pep up our chances of world domination -
it might even cause him to smile.

Mr. Darling is taking Viagra today -
do you think it might make him more dominant?
He pops a blue pill with his daily repast
as he studies his grim economic forecasts.
If you're wondering how long the side effects last -
well, it's not just his eyebrows are prominent!

John Prescott is taking Viagra today,
He took two or three with his lunch.
His testosterone levels are somewhat alarming;
Some find his working-class vowels rather charming;
He's got a right hook that could be quite disarming -
He certainly packs quite a punch.

David Blunkett is taking Viagra today -
Can you think of a concept more scary?
Now that he's got so much time on his hands
The good folk of Sheffield had better make plans
To resist his draconian, desperate demands:
Even Sadie is looking quite wary!

Robert Kilroy-Silk's taking Viagra today,
But that isn't the reason he's grinning:
His ego is swelling, his head is erect
And he has a new organ that you can elect,
With one upright member - now that's quite select!
He's got more chance than UKIP of winning.

Even Nick Clegg is taking Viagra today -
He's sampled a liberal measure.
He's marching to battle with standard held high,
But "Make Love, Not War" is his rallying-cry
As the ladies of Westminster give him the eye:
He might give them one back, and with pleasure!

David Cameron's taking Viagra today -
Could it soon stop his hairline receding?
Could it give him the clout that he needs with the nation
And give him a virile and firm reputation
To help save the Tories from moral castration -
It's surely the drug that they're needing!

So can we give our Members prescriptions today
For that wonderful pill that is blue?
It could spice up Westminster in all the right places
And put back a smile on those dreary old faces.
Let's give the whole country a taste of its graces -
You never know what it could do!


Andy Humphrey



RED WINE IS DANGEROUS

Red wine is dangerous.
Red wine is too many parties,
late night poetry,
a celebration on the children's playground at midnight.
Red wine is an aftertaste that leaves me wanting more.

White wine is safe.
White wine is comfort and companionship,
the laugh and the sparkle of glasses.
White wine is cooking pasta in a kitchen that's too small,
lighting the gas oven with a match it took too long to find.
White wine is staying up too late watching "Xena",
and falling half asleep in the small hours,
talking and laughing at nothing very much.
Telling silly stories.

Red wine is dangerous.
Red wine is too many kisses,
and too many afterthoughts about one kiss too many.
Red wine is candlelight and incense,
Thomas Lang on the stereo,
songs and crazy dreams.
Red wine is lovers' lipstick
and it always leaves my lips purple.


Andy Humphrey



HLJÓMALIND
(Reykjavik, August 2008)

Come, all you stragglers
in this great northern city
alive with harbour breath
and shop-doorway jazz,
the shriek of bombastic seagulls
and the keen of the arctic tern.

Come, misfits from every corner,
bring your rainbow-gabble of language
and your street-chafed, worn-out feet,
to the quiet end of Laugevegur
where flower power meets the internet age
and tangle-haired young men
share a wobbly welcome table
with girls bright with flowing bohemia.

Come, the garish, the gothic, the gangly
to our dangled-string pendulum-lamp grotto,
a picture window on a world
of tapestry lute-players, bug-eyed cats
and curly-script flyers for poets
whose names are all Ks and consonants.

Come, soothe yourself with bread so fresh
it burnishes with oven-warmth;
with aromatic soup from an endless tureen,
heavy with chick-peas and spice;
with sun-dried tomato and honey-kissed salad,
the sweet fat luxury of pine nuts and oil.
Ease journey-tired backsides
into creaking, lichen-tone armchairs
under bright strings of handkerchief poems.

Come, and lift with us a frothing glass
of home-made, golden ginger ale.
Let it kiss your tongue
with the spice of its fire
as you drink to the memory
of midnight suns, crisp skies
and the gentle bustle of a city
where evening lasts all summer long.


Andy Humphrey



THE GREATEST GIG OF ALL

(for John Peel, RIP)

John was never much of one for angels.
I suspect he favoured sinners over saints.
So when they came to meet him on a bright October day,
I wonder if he met them with complaints?
I wonder if they caught him reminiscing
Over Bowie, Joy Division or The Fall,
And if the choir eternal brought their Stratocasters down
When they fetched him for the greatest gig of all?
Was St. Peter rather puzzled when the pearly gates swung wide
And the sound of Teenage Kicks began to play?
I bet he put aside his harp and started moshing with the rest
When the Lord called back his number one DJ.

Now I think we’re in for one almighty party,
Now that Peel is rocking in the sky.
The music just got better in the heavens up above,
And music isn’t ever going to die.

I don’t think John thought overmuch of heaven,
But he counted all his blessings while on earth,
Though adrift for forty years in a desert
Of plastic pop and DJ poodle perms.
They may not honour prophets in their hometown,
But Heswall never had a finer son,
And many poets’ voices owe their honour and acclaim
To a timely session tape on Radio 1.
He must have served his Purgatory a few too many times,
A lone voice in the wilderness of bland,
But there’ll be a few home truths for sure when Peely meets the saints,
When they face the music and strike up the band.

Yes I think we’re in for one almighty party,
Now that Peel is rocking in the sky.
The music just got better in the heavens up above,
And music isn’t ever going to die.

So I wonder how he’s going to cope with heaven,
When he didn’t even know if it was there?
I can see him swapping records with Bob Marley and Ray Charles,
Giving Sid and Strummer time on heavenly air.
He’ll be working on the decks with Biggie and Jam Master Jay,
Keeping Tupac off at arm’s length just in case,
Teaching Jimi how to fly and chasing John across the sky,
Reuniting the Ramones for old times’ sake.
There’ll be one enormous session in the firmament tonight,
With Caedmon and Charles Wesley in the mix,
With the angels backing Elvis, and two Beatles on guitar,
And the stars will all ring out with Teenage Kicks.

Yes I know we’re in for one almight party,
And Peel will go on rocking high above.
The music just got better in the heavens, and they say
That if music never dies, then nor does love.


Andy Humphrey



A TRIBUTE TO RICHARD HARRIS

The groundskeeper at Macarthur Park
sighed a weary, heartfelt sigh
as he shovelled up the rain-sodden remnants
of the third Black Forest gateau this week.

Bloody hippies.


Andy Humphrey


More samples of my work can be found on my website, at http://andyhumphrey1971.webs.com

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.