Biography

Mark Niel is a poet from Milton Keynes who has shot from Open Mics to headliner in a mere couple of years. Mark’s passion for Spoken Word led him to found his own organisation, Tongue in Chic which showcases the best of the national scene at Festivals and events around the country as well as in his home town.


Mark’s breakthrough was winning the prestigious Camden Crawl Poetry Slam which led to a headline gig with Apples and Snakes. His accessible Performance Poetry has gone on to dazzle audiences at Literature and Poetry Festivals as well as the Shepherds Bush Empire. A prize winner for both written and performed poems, his material ranges from deeply personal reflections to barn-storming Performance Pieces. Whether despairing at his frequently misspelt name or raging about the frustrations of Fridges in shared houses he is always by turns engaging, comic, and moving. As well as performances and readings, Mark undertakes schools work and runs workshops.

So, if you thought Milton Keynes had nothing to offer except Concrete Cows and somewhere for Londoners to park and ride, then watch out because Mark is leading a poetic mission to make you change your mind. Mark has appeared with John Hegley, Zena Edwards, Elvis McGonagall, Jean “Binta” Breeze, Felix Dennis, Ava Vidal, Niall O'Sullivan, A F Harrold, Simon Munnery, Rachel Pantechnicon and many others.

Mark was appointed as Milton Keynes' Poet Laureate in May 2011. His solo show, “All the mistakes I ever made have led me here” is perfect for Festivals. It lasts just under one hour and blends theatre, performance poetry and music.

Quotes

“Beautifully performed” Miriam Margolyes

“The audience was in hysterics” Petersfield Herald

“Ignited the space with his comedic stanzas” Rum Punch, Partnas in Rhyme

“A Bravura Performance” Buxton Fringe Review

Samples

Dawn

You lied about your age,
Your weight and your shoe size.
I found out too late
To halt our demise.

Half truths and whoppers
Comprised your diction.
No facts, just fantasy
And falsehoods and fiction.

This dress? Just ten pounds,
Bought in a sale.
If your nose was Pinocchio’s
It would run off the scale.

You deceived and destroyed me
At every wrong turn.
Took wallet and dignity
And left me, heartburned.

So I’m both broke and broken
At the first light of morn.
In more than one way,
You were another false Dawn


The Day the World Died

The day the world died
Nations gathered
For the will to be read.
It turned out the meek
DID inherit the earth,
But they asked for the money instead.


Symptoms of Love


Heart and pulse racing,
My palms damp and sweaty.
I feel like my legs
Have turned to spaghetti.

Tight chest, breathlessness,
A bitter miasma.
I saw the doctor.
It’s not love, it’s asthma.
I didn’t know

I didn’t know there should have been stars
Until I kissed you.

I didn’t know a breath should be missed
Until I kissed you

I didn’t know your heart should stop beating,
One fleeting moment
Until I kissed you

I didn’t know.
I do now.


Half Life Day (9 July, 2008) 9 July was the day when I had been in love with my wife for exactly half my life (8,137 days).


Dark, dark and dark the night
as we walked, squeezing the last moments
from the weekend before work
usurped our time.

Bright, bright and bright the stars
that pinpricked the velvet indigo
and eavesdropped our whispered
intimacies.

Soft, soft and soft your face
I held
as creeping certainty
came calling.

Sweet, sweet and sweet your kiss
as together falling
from casual romance
to soul certain permanence.
Impromptu proposal
met with a breathless “Yes”.

Quick, quick and quick the years
once constant companion
now distant acquaintance
taking our moments,
for souvenirs

Cold, cold and cold the days
when sorrow shared our souls.
rain cloud shadow
a weeping canopy
blocking the sunlight

Hard, hard and hard the words
at times as edge on edge
we smoothed and shaped
each other
fashioning a better fit.

Deep, deep and deep the love
that remains ingrained
making one from two.
So I stand on Half Life Day
the man I am,
because of you.

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