Biography

Mike Smith

Recently received the degree of M Litt from Glasgow University and currently teaches Creative Writing at Cumbria University.

2009 A group of 5 poems including Ullswater Requiem and The Flickering wins the Sir Patrick Geddes Meorial Trust award, Edinburgh.
2009 The short play 'Smokes, a mime with words' performed at the Sydeny Short+Sweet Festival.
2008 Valanga published by Freerange Poetry, Carlisle
2008 The Flickering wins the Kirkpatrick Dobie Poetry prize, Dumfries.
2007 Martin Extinct, published by Freerange Poetry, Carlisle.
2007 Ullswater Requiem wins a Kirkpatrick Dobie poetry prize, Dumfries.

Published in Stand, Outposts, Cadenza, Acumen, Tears in The Fence & elsewhere.
Broadcast Radio 3, Radio Derby, Radio Cumbria.
2004 Writing as Brindley Hallam Dennis, won Radio Cumbria Short Story Competition.
2004 Won Ottaker’s Carlisle Poetry Competition.
1970s. Published The Broken Mirror (Outposts)
Love Affair With a Landscape (Curlew)
Appeared in New Poems 1976/77 (PEN)
2005 Published No Easy Place (poems)

Appeared in Night Balancing (Blinking Eye)/ Both Sides of Hadrian’s Wall (Selkirk Lapwing Press)
Member of Maryport Writers’ Group. Member of the EditRed writers’ online community. Reads regularly at Calrlisle’s Speakeasy, Penrith Blue Bell Bookshop. Co-organiser of Wordplay at NEO, Cockermouth. Co-founder of the Brewery Poets, Kendal ( a long time ago!)
Organised the Fringe Poetry event at Keswick: The Water Margin in 2007&8.

Samples

Under An Apple Tree in the Rain

Here, in this fine spray, the trittle trattle patter,
you might stand, breathe, and think you are alive.

Death, who is talking with a friend nearby,
casts you a glance. You cannot hear but guess
their conversation. Death makes a lonely
invitation, to which you must say yes.

The last chance always what you waited for,
(the last place looked-in always where you found)
when you attempted perfect metaphor.

So. We are raindrops falling through this light,
born out of knowledge, sparkling, splashing bright,
lost in the flow and passing out of sight.

Still days, when soft rain falls on fruit might seem
be all we need; be thought eternal.


MAROONED

And I no longer look for ships.
We passed in darkness not in light
Where love falls unexpected in the night.

It seems so long ago,
And I no longer look for ships,
And leave the beacon fire unlit.
We passed in darkness not in light.
It’s pain that time from memory strips,
Where love falls unexpected in the night.

All loss lies in the past.
It seems so long ago,
And time slips by so fast,
And I no longer look for ships,
But sit with closed eyes on the beach,
And leave the beacon fire unlit.
The past is always out of reach.
We passed in darkness not in light.
Who learns the lesson this would teach?
It’s pain that time from memory strips,
Until we are alone at last
Where love falls unexpected in the night.

So keep the vigil on your side.
All loss lies in the past
Among the ones whom love divides.
It seems so long ago
We made our separate trips,
And time slips by so fast.
We’ve no regrets at all,
And I no longer look for ships
(There is no rescue yet)
But sit with closed eyes on the beach
To see what I recall,
And leave the beacon fire unlit
In case you see its signal flame.
The past is always out of reach,
And all fires burn the same.
We passed in darkness not in light,
But yesterday still grips.
Who learns the lesson this would teach?
By candle glow and lovers’ talk,
It’s pain that time from memory strips,
Beyond the sound of human speech,
Until we are alone at last.
I would be there if yet I might,
Where love falls unexpected in the night.

(Marooned is written in a form I have called the Valanga. There's another example, and a short essay on the form on My Page, of Bhdndme's blog.- on the homepage link above.)


All THE HURT CHILDREN

Write on the water write on the sand
Write on the air on the back of your hand
What do hurt children grow up to be?
Someone like me. Someone like me.

Whisper to fire whisper to stone
Whisper to starlight when you’re alone
What do hurt children grow up to do?
Something like you. Something like you.

Cry for tomorrow cry for today
Cry for the past that took you away
When do hurt children shed the last tear?
Never I fear. Never I fear.

Run from the shadow Run from the light
Run from the echo you hear in the night.
Why do hurt children travel so fast?
Fear of the past Fear of the past.

Sleep in the ocean sleep in the earth
Fall through the sky from the day of your birth
What do hurt children do with their lives?
Each one survives each one survives

(this poem appeared in the 2006 Blinking Eye anthology, Night Balancing)

SO STILL

It is so still here tonight
That were it not for birdsong
And traffic on the main road
And distance
I might hear your voice
Should you be calling

But like me
You are only listening

(this little poem won the Ottakers poetry competition, Carlisle branch, in 2005, or thereabouts, and has popped up here and there since!)

Mechanics (revised version)

He’s got that bloody poem stripped down again
The kitchen floor’s knee deep
In rough edged images
Discarded adjectives
A metaphor to fit
That won’t improve on it one little bit

He says it isn’t scanning sweet
And listens for a missing beat

It’s not as if he ever takes it out
But rides it in his dreams
Where he might leap the gulf
Between him and the world

He’s got that bloody poem stripped down again
And if he ever gets it running right, what then?



The Ways of Working

The sculptor will tell you how you can
If you wish to make a man
With some its what you take away
With others what you overlay
So start with wire
Or start with stone
I know a hundred ways to be alone

With wire you make an armature
To shape your man on true and sure
The stone you prize from out of earth
As much as makes a whole man’s worth
Wind the wire
Carve the stone
I know a thousand ways to be alone

Add the sinew mould the face
But of your fingers leave no trace
Gouge out a mouth chip out some eyes
Finely etch a skin of lies
Bury the wire
Polish the stone
There are a million ways to be alone

(The Ways of Working was featured in the film Words & Bronze, celebrating the life and work of sculptor Elizabeth Waugh)

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