Friday, 25 August 2017

THE PITMAN POET OF PERCY MAIN








































THE PITMAN POET OF PERCY MAIN: JOSEPH SKIPSEY (1832-1903) 185TH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH EVENT WITH LAUNCH OF A NEW BOOK ABOUT SKIPSEY PUBLISHED BY NORTHERN VOICES COMMUNITY PROJECTS  IN ASSOCIATION WITH NORTH TYNESIDE COUNCIL.
FEATURING POETRY AND SONGS BY CONTRIBUTORS TO THE BOOK, TOGETHER WITH READINGS OF SKIPSEY'S OWN POEMS, INTRODUCED BY EDITORS KEITH ARMSTRONG AND PETER DIXON OF NORTHERN VOICES COMMUNITY PROJECTS WITH FOLK MUSIC BY THE SAWDUST JACKS AND ALSO FEATURING ANN SESSOMS ON NORTHUMBRIAN PIPES WITH PERIOD TUNES.

ST JOHN’S CHURCH, ST JOHN’S TERRACE, PERCY MAIN.

PART OF HERITAGE OPEN DAYS 2017.

THURSDAY 7TH SEPTEMBER 10AM. ADMISSION FREE.


FROM A PITMAN POET TO A MAGPIE ANGEL:
TYNESIDE CHARACTERS - A TRAWL THROUGH OUR LOCAL HISTORY WITH POET DR KEITH ARMSTRONG (THE JINGLING GEORDIE) AND FRIENDS, FEATURING THE SAWDUST JACKS FOLK GROUP AND CELEBRATING THE 185TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTH OF THE PITMAN POET OF PERCY MAIN JOSEPH SKIPSEY (1832-1903) AND THE 125TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDING OF NEWCASTLE UNITED.

A NORTHERN VOICES COMMUNITY PROJECTS EVENT.

THE RED HOUSE, SANDHILL, NEWCASTLE. THURSDAY 7TH SEPTEMBER 12.30PM. ADMISSION FREE.

PART OF HERITAGE OPEN DAYS 2017.

FURTHER INFORMATION FROM NVCP: TEL 0191 2529531.



THE W.E.A. AND NORTHERN VOICES COMMUNITY PROJECTS PRESENT:
THE PITMAN POET OF PERCY MAIN: JOSEPH SKIPSEY (1832-1903) 185TH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH EVENT WITH TYNESIDE LAUNCH  OF A NEW BOOK ABOUT SKIPSEY PUBLISHED BY NVCP IN ASSOCIATION WITH NORTH TYNESIDE COUNCIL.
FEATURING POETRY AND SONGS BY CONTRIBUTORS TO THE BOOK, TOGETHER WITH READINGS OF SKIPSEY'S OWN POEMS, INTRODUCED BY EDITORS KEITH ARMSTRONG AND PETER DIXON OF NORTHERN VOICES COMMUNITY PROJECTS WITH FOLK MUSIC BY THE SAWDUST JACKS AND ALSO FEATURING ANN SESSOMS ON NORTHUMBRIAN PIPES WITH PERIOD TUNES.

TUESDAY 26TH SEPTEMBER 7.30PM, BENSHAM GROVE COMMUNITY CENTRE, SIDNEY GROVE, GATESHEAD.

Tuesday, 15 August 2017

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FRIEND JACK COMMON (BORN NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE 15TH AUGUST 1903)










































 








 
 
 
 
 
 
Ever since the sixth form,
when I found you, 
a kindred Novocastrian
in a library book,
I seem to have followed in your steps,
stumbled after you 
in rain soaked lanes,
knocked on doors
in search of your stories.
For over forty years,
I have tracked
the movement of your pen
in streets you walked
and on cross country trains
from your own Newcastle
to Warrington
Malvern,
Newport Pagnell,
Letchworth,
Yetminster,
Wallington 
and back again.
I have given talks about you,
supped in your pubs,
strode along your paragraphs 
and river paths
to try to find
that urge in you
to write 
out of your veins
what you thought of things,
what made you tick
and your loved ones 
laugh and cry.
I tried to reach you in a thesis,
to see you as a lad in Heaton,
but I could never catch your breath
because I didn’t get to meet you
face to face,
could only guess
that you were like me:
a kind of kindly 
socialist writer
in a world
too cruel for words.





KEITH ARMSTRONG

Peter Common Well said Keith!


Dear kindly socialist writer - this is great - thanks a lot for sending it

Love
Pat

Thursday, 10 August 2017

THE SUN ON DANBY GARDENS



The sun on Danby Gardens
smells of roast beef,
tastes of my youth.
The flying cinders of a steam train
spark in my dreams.
Across the old field,
a miner breaks his back
and lovers roll in the ditches,
off beaten tracks.
Off Bigges Main,
my grandad taps his stick,
reaches for the braille of long-dead strikes.
The nights
fair draw in
and I recall Joyce Esthella Antoinette Giles
and her legs that reached for miles,
tripping over the stiles
in red high heels.
It was her and blonde Annie Walker
who took me in the stacks
and taught me how to read
the signs
that led inside their thighs.
Those Ravenswood girls
would dance into your life
and dance though all the snow drops
of those freezing winters,
in the playground of young scars.
And I remember freckled Pete
who taught me Jazz,
who pointed me to Charlie Parker
and the edgy bitterness of Brown Ale.
Mrs Todd next door
was forever sweeping
leaves along the garden path
her fallen husband loved to tread.
Such days:
the smoke of A4 Pacifics in the aftermath of war,
the trail of local history on the birthmarked street.
And I have loved you all my life
and will no doubt die in Danby Gardens
where all my poems were born,
just after midnight.


KEITH ARMSTRONG