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Andrew Brown

Updated: Wed, 20 Mar 2013 09:48 am

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Better known as a prose writer these days, and seen all too often at open mics in the York/Harrogate area, I have a vast store of poetry in the back catologue. Although I now jokingly describe myself as a 'recovering poet', joining Write Out Loud might yet cause me to backslide, which (all joking apart) would be wonderful... In fact as of 2013 this has happened - that little switch in my head has clicked again and I'm currently writing all poetry and no prose. A sequence of poems and a number of prose works can be heard on my Soundcloud page: My own website is:


Dance (for Ella, aged 93, remembering dances at Knaresborough Town Hall) See, with what constant motion you circle here, amid the throng. So gracefully you turn all thoughts to love and tread your long and sinuous line. Entangled in your threaded steps, and lulled by this delicious dance, the boys will surely move in turn - and dare the danger of your glance. These dear young boys are drawn, and cannot help themselves. Each will risk his fragile heart to circle you, embrace, and dance. You know them well - these lover’s ploys - such round games could never so un-foot you. You turned their hearts - yet somehow danced away - unclasped. ‘Oh such times’ you tell me as frail feet now cross the room. Gone the strappy heel, and here the slipper’s shapeless bulge. ‘That dear sweet happy day will never now be stepped again - for age is poverty compared to youth,- and that’s the simple truth’ you say. But I protest - for is this not a dance? For arm in arm we cross the floor and move in ceaseless round from bed to bathroom, then across to chair. This is our dancing day - utility enacted now on nylon thread - and not, as when, with springing step, you paved the Town Hall floor with broken hearts.

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

Audio entries by Andrew Brown

Two Trips to the Orthodontist (20/03/2013)

New Library at Pontefract (02/10/2012)

Old Money (Fete Day at the Old People's Home) (16/04/2012)

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Greg Freeman

Thu 4th Oct 2012 18:25

Andrew, you're quite right about that first stanza in The Road North in the York anthology - it is indeed about the summer of 1976. Coincidentally, Sid Villan mentioned that same summer last night in connection with one of his poems, called Crickets.

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Andrew Brown

Sat 11th Aug 2012 07:22

Down in flames like the R101, hey, John? Sorry I missed it.

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John Coopey

Fri 10th Aug 2012 23:41

What ho, AB!
I did "Whinge and Fucking Bleat" at Speakers Corner on Wednesday. It went down like a lead zeppelin.

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Andrew Brown

Tue 1st May 2012 13:03

Thank you for your comment, Robert. Unfortunately, I don't think Ella ever lived to see this poem, but she was quite convinced I'd been at those dances with her!

Robert Mann

Mon 30th Apr 2012 20:58

I like the tribute to Ella and her memories a great deal. I can imagine the dancehall, the rose scented perfumes and the smell of brylcreem and floor polish. I suspect she was delighted too.

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John Coopey

Fri 27th Apr 2012 22:30

Never waste One-2-3-4 on a poem. Use it for a foxtrot.

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Ann Foxglove

Mon 16th Apr 2012 07:09

Hello Andrew - welcome to WOL. Hope you enjoy being part of WOL - and find it productive too! Hope to see some of your work on the blog section of the site. Stuff gets more attention there than on the profiles.

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