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Rod Tame

Updated: Fri, 9 Mar 2012 02:12 pm

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Originally from the Garden of England that is Kent, I now live in the urban jungle that is Manchester. I host both Write Out Loud Sale (normally held on the fourth Tuesday of the month) and the Rhyme and Dine event at Earth Café in Manchester's Northern Quarter. My current projects include acting in Dominic Berry's poetry play Wizard and creating a Steampunk-esque body of poetry with a view to turning it into a one-man show. In 2010, my poems ‘Renaissance Man’ and ‘I Know’ were included in the anthology ‘Best of Manchester Poets, Volume 1’, the first major attempt in recent years to showcase the talent, individuality and sheer fun of the Manchester poetry scene. Available directly from the publisher Puppywolf and via Amazon. 2009 saw me take the lead role of Aristotle in the award-winning play ‘Drowning Aristotle’ written by Melanie Rees and performed as part of the Chorlton Arts Festival and Manchester’s ‘Not Part Of’ festival. Other notable performances include Forever Manchester Live in 2010, Cumbria’s Solfest 2009 and a support set for Regie Cabico in Baltimore in the US. Rod has also guest-hosted Freed Up at Manchester’s greenroom theatre and the University of Bradford’s Poetry Slam.


For written, audio and video examples, see It’s Murder in Tunbridge Wells Among paddocks green with envy, blue-blood cold streams of critique flow. Sundays supplementing status anxieties, a constant worship of one-upmanship never acknowledged. Like repressed suspects, in a country-house mystery written by Christie, stiff upper lips are sealed. Mrs. Peacock runs crooked finger along Miss Scarlet’s mantle, “Such a bind to find good help these days…” Mrs. White won’t venture North, tells friends to beware, “Lots of foreigners up there.” Furthest she’s been is the Norfolk Broads, would string up invading immigrant hordes, like hops in fields. Oast-house dry their tears, export them to France. Colonel Mustard spits fire at the Euro advance, “Couldn’t beat us in two World Wars, now they’re using politics and laws!” Battle of Britain eternal. Bending bananas to beat back Brussels, bending backwards to build golf clubs for yanks splashing cash. Reverend Green soapboxes ears of those daringly different. Daily Mail downward slams, over afternoon tea, homemade scones and jam. Delivers sermons on gay marriage, “Not here. Get out of it!” Sneaks a peak at the verger’s seat. Usual suspects hatch factory-farmed plots, poisoning positivity, mercilessly killing kindness. Throwing spanners at progress to hold back continental shifts. Prof Plum dismisses climate changes as modern myths. Though Dr. Black warns as the channel warms, “Can’t stop the rising tide.” When sea boils over, waterlogging the Weald, little empires crash, crumbling in tumbling Tunbridge Wells. But for now, tragic tradition towers in strongholds of outdated power. Gateway to Middle England bolted shut. Men of Kent standing stoically, disgusted right-Royally.

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

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Rod Tame

Mon 28th Mar 2011 16:06

Hello Cynthia,

The Sale open-mic was last Monday I'm afraid.

Sorry to hear that you've been ill and sorry that you missed it.

The next one is Tuesday 26th April.

Hope to see you there,
Rod :)

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 28th Mar 2011 11:32

Rod, when is the Sale open-mic? I had today in mind, but apparently not; at least no blurb about it. I've been ill. Have I missed some info?

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Rod Tame

Tue 20th Jul 2010 10:09

Thanks Josh! I must admit to having been slack about keeping up my internet activities but I'm back on top of that now.

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Joshua Coates

Mon 7th Jun 2010 00:41

Hmmm, long time since you've posted but oh well. Saw you do a poem at the poetry pillow on friday and thought you were very good. That is all =]

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Rod Tame

Thu 6th Nov 2008 14:52

Oops, that is what happens when one forgets the tonic...

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Steve OConnor

Wed 5th Nov 2008 13:16


It's 'Self-proclaimed' not 'Selt-proclained'!

And with your education! Tsk, tsk. (Probably one gin too many).

I like your poetry.


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