By Lottie Miller, (MA) English
While often elusive, established in unfamiliar locations and, in most instances, taking place after dark, Bristol's poetry scene is actually thriving. Take a dive into this underexplored world from open mic nights at Bristol Folk House's Between the Lines to The Bristol Fringe's Infringed Bristol.
My initiation into the Bristol poetry scene took place at Folk House, a mid-century style venue for community events, hidden down an unsuspecting alleyway off Park Street. Between the Lines poetry night, as I later found out it was called, is a monthly affair, offering up charismatic John Rea as its host. As you enter the cafe-bar that has been claimed for an evening of creative output, there is the distinctive sense of something homemade, providing a charming welcome. By the time the first speaker of the night takes to the stage, the thrum of music from a neighbouring salsa class is already seeping through the wall. Though this sometimes muffles the clarity of each poet's delivery, the sound only augments the sense of community you have become privy to.
The night is an open mic, meaning that signups happen on the door and all are encouraged to put their name forward regardless of experience. The subject matter is broad. Some participants present verses seeped in floral metaphor, and of evident sentimental value. Others ground their work in locality; one woman offers an ode to the murky Clevedon Marine lake. At the interval, the host rings a bell and tells us all to reconvene in fifteen minutes. Mysterious leaflets advertising the next poetry night in an undisclosed location are handed round, and I get the feeling I've joined an exclusive club. The night is rounded off by the host's performance of a Simon Armitage piece - Rea enquires if anybody has heard of him and the crowd responds with the raucous that such a question beckons.
The event's relaxed format offers close proximity between diverse topics and style: the timid and the blasé that could not be replicated within a judiciously curated anthology. Between the Lines speaks to the core of poetry as a means of community; a hodgepodge of rhythm and verse, and a testament to the power of poetry to move real people. Performances are not delivered in great numbers, but rest assured, performativity is not on the scene.
I returned for seconds the next week, attending a poetry evening called Infringed Bristol, hosted by Charis Owen at Clifton pub, The Bristol Fringe.
The venue is aptly named, numerous people in the crowd (myself included) sport jagged microbands, and vivid hair colours which wouldn't be out of place in an aviary. But don't be misled, the turnout boasts a diverse bunch, from those who have never attended an open mic night before to veteran performers. Though there are certainly many students in the crowd, Infringed is not the exclusive domain of university goers. A broader range of demographics can be accounted for; a local west country inflection was identifiable throughout much of the night's oration (and, indeed, the bartender gave me quite a stern look when I asked if they offered student discount).
My background is in English literature so I'm well accustomed to picking apart written texts. What stands out to me during an open mic is the impact of performance as a mediation between word and listener. The opening performer was a regular, judging by the crowd's excited clamour and he quite literally bellows out his first poem (and I admit it startles me - I had thought that my on-stage perch was a privilege until this moment). His piece was one that I personally read in relation to the dwindling rights of protestors in the UK, and, perhaps even the escalating violence of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in America. Immediately after, he falls into a Spike Milligan-esque rhythm and delivers a singsong verse about bananas. I'm impressed by the range.
Other contributors dance and sing across the stage, encouraging the participation of hecklers in the tightly packed crowd. Angry grandparents, retired magicians, and cynical husbands all take the microphone in high spirits, in much the same feel as Between the Lines, but reinforced by numbers. The more nervous of the assorted lineup are perhaps those reading to a group for the first time, or those who are confronting traumatic personal topics, yet they strike me as the boldest entrants. Persisting whilst their voices crack, barely brave enough to lift their eyes from the ground, some speakers are not stage naturals but offer up their writing for the sake of confidence or catharsis, and this deserves great respect. And to our credit, we form a responsive crowd, with newcomers earning a double cheer. In the interval, as the crowd unites in a shuffle towards the bar in pursuit of a well-earned pint of Thatcher's Gold, I sit behind and eavesdrop on a medley of conversation.
Tom Forbes
Megan Mclean
As a poet belonging to the first half of the evening's performance notices a rectangular window above the stage, which he notes as letting in the persistent glare of an onlooking streetlight, it strikes me that the skill of quotidian observation is a crucial asset in the poetic toolbelt. A lady sitting next to me clutches sheets of her own poetry, though not performing herself; who knows where inspiration might strike next? In conversation with me, she expresses her opinion of poetry as the 'stitching together' of different feelings and ideas; a fitting summation of both the dynamic and poetic outputs of the Bristol poetry scene.
If you're after some food for thought, a cultured community, or really even just a laugh, then you'll fit right in with Bristol's poetic rabble. Both Between the Lines and Infringed Bristol take place on a monthly basis.
Featured image: Epigram / Amelia McCabe
Have you attended a poetry evening in Bristol?
