SPArK - Jane Sharp
A familiar figure on the open mic poetry circuit throughout South Yorkshire and beyond, Jane Sharp’s latest collection, SPArK is built from prompts given at the Chemic Tavern’s Chemistry evening held regularly in Leeds. The event host Joe Williams praises Jane on the back of the book for embracing the concept like no-one else has. And she certainly has.
Each of the poems deals with a different element from the periodic table, mixing factual information, myths and legends and anecdotes all presented in Janes, quirky and humorous style along with pronunciation guidance where appropriate, ( I never knew that Fluorine rhymed with Maureen, I always thought it was closer to urine)
From romantic aspirations (Hydrogen is single and ready to bond) through to the feminism expressed in Iron (…I’m a girl, the kitchen awaits, It makes me sad) Jane has used the vehicle of the elements to explore a range of situations and issues. Vanadium gets the distinction of two separate poems, a clerihew and a longer piece which finishes with the uplifting prediction that…
the next time you look in the mirror
You know who you’re going to see
The you of your dreams. The inside you
The you who is still twenty three.Jane’s poetry is full of such exuberance and confidence, and that’s what gives it its charm and makes every read (and every performance) an enjoyable one. One of my favourite pieces tells the story of the artist Marc Chagall as a young man first encountering a neon sign in Paris. It’s a great story, and an excellent use of a prompt. Jane should have her name up in neon lights at the Chemic.
In the Barber’s Shop 1912
As starlings gather on telegraph wires in the Boulevard Montmartre, a young artist, Marc Chagall, recently arrived from Belarus, his gold tooth crunching an apple, his cloth cap covering his hair and his lucky number seven sketchbook tucked close to his chest in the crook of his arm, stands gazing at the lighted doorway of a barber’s shop. Never has he seen such a sign. Palais Coiffeur. Shining red starlit words in looped cursive. Slim glass tubes that glow super-moon bright. Marc Chagall blinks Three days later he returns to the shop Palais Coiffeur, astonished. Only one such sign exists in the whole of Paris The thinness of his soles bear witness to that. He has trolled every Boulevard every Avenue, every Rue, and now inside the barber’s shop he sits in a soft Baroque chair fit for Louis himself Monsieur Lespes, drapes a white towel-bib around his chest deft as a waiter on the Titanic, cranks his head backwards combs his hair, scissors snapping. The artist peers into waxed moustache, hairy black nostrils Warm sweat fills the room. He inhales spices garlic, carbolic, tobacco and gin Standing tall, in vogue, straight from the front page of Le Moniteur de la Mode, with blue suite and brown shoes, a spiv-guy smooth as they come A salesman if ever there was one Jacques Fonseque, exuding success, looks on Je vais illuminer le monde avec mes signes, he says. I am going to light up the world with my signs. And he points Behold! The first neon sign, in the world! Tout le monde, tout le monde! Il dit. Marc grins Clatters a fist full of cents onto the counter and departs. In the street he blinks Later in Montparnasse he paints the scene his canvass alive with Palais Coiffeur a chance encounter in the Barber’s Shop
…
Jane is number 53 of the Sixty Odd Poets SPArk is published by Sherwood Handcrafts. Contact either me or Jane and we’ll find a way to get a copy to you.
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All Tomorrow’s Parties - Milford Sprake
Unlike Jane Milford Sprake doesn’t get out much and has never actually read any of his work before an audience. He came across Sixty Odd Poets online, and has sent a couple of his pieces to special pages in the past. He sent me a PDF copy of All Tomorrows Parties, and I became hooked by the strange ideas he seems to revel in. An Odd Poet indeed.
For a work which uses a Velvet Underground song as its title, there are an awful lot of references to Kool and the Gang within its pages. It is hard to determine whether Milford loves or hates their 1980 hit Celebration, but he certainly can’t seem to ignore it. In Soundtrack of our Lives, he imagines it being played at the crematorium as the guests leave his funeral…
Standing and stretching Remembering the good times Not times like these This death disco dedication that will not last throughout the years Where the best on offer will be buffet, beer and bedtime
Elsewhere, he considers the song as a Timeless Classic, that might have been played on Armistice Day or VE day, if it wasn’t for the fact that Robert “Kool” Bell wasn’t even born until 1950. But time is a fluid concept in the world of Milford Sprake, and perhaps in some future version of the past, the music of Celebration will ring out throughout the whole of history.
The idea of time being measured through fluid sand gives is explored in the collection’s final piece.
Everything Becomes Sand
Sand sticks between your toes You find it in your bed the next day With other bits sloughed from your sleeping body You sweep it away, but theres no denying You will become sand yourself in time Slipping to the lower chamber of the hourglass Where each memory filled grain settles and stills until some unseen hand inverts the device things flow the other way the forgotten are recalled and, rising again we cry out to everyone around the world Come on
…
Milford’s other work on Sixty Odd can be found here and here. All Tomorrows Parties is to be published early next year by Woodrow Sparrow
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