Arun Sagar
All was at once intimate and public
like a note passed through a classroom.
Queues were forming at the check-in counter,
and by the river young men zig-zagged
their skates amid the maple leaves.
But here: mannequins, scarves, steaks
in Rocquefort sauce. These city nights are
brightened with cloud, the way the first
sip of wine sharpens the nerves of the mouth
and October comes with fire colours, fine rain.

Barbara Trapido is the author of seven novels including Brother of the More Famous Jack (1982), Temples of Delight (1990), The Travelling Hornplayer (1998) and Frankie and Stankie (2003), which have all been shortlisted for major awards. Her latest novel, Sex and Stravinsky, was published in May this year.Her novels are celebrated for their weavings of fantastical tragi-comic plots and realistic characters, delivered with exuberant wit and sparkling dialogue. She talks to us about Sex and Stravinsky, her inspirations and writing processes and being given the label of a “South African writer”. She also tells us a little about the novel she is ‘brooding’ on at the moment ? which may involve a lady who uses ‘a pet baboon to deflea the dog’…

Part II of our interview with leading novelist Barbara Trapido, author of seven novels including Brother of the More Famous Jack (1982) and Temples of Delight (1990). Her latest novel, which came out earlier this year, is entitled Sex and Stravinsky.

Barefoot in the Park is an annual one-day festival of poetry, storytelling, theatre and music that takes place in Leeds’ beautiful Hyde Park. For the last four years it has been fulfilling the Barefoot team’s ambition to bring poetry and the arts to new audiences, whether seasoned poetry fans or tasting the joys of verse for the first time.
The leafy green environs of central Leeds have rung with the tones of many fantastic performers, like poets Carole Bromley, Mike di Placido, Swithun Cooper, David Agnew and Patrick Kavanagh-award winner Michael …

Pascal Ansell
1. I am the controller of my body
2. My brain is the controller of my body
3. Therefore, I am my brain
———————-Mark Bradley

Shell of a man, the mouth catches
A common cold, nasal husks. Organ Morgan’s
Fingers delight in Palestrina, and ears
Seldom hear dear mother’s lips screaming.
There it is. Pink and mainly grey.
Morgan, without the Organ, speaks a
Love of Bach. “Palestriiiiina” with rolled r
And wide I, he waits for tea and displays
Mental staves on the table, hands raised & ready.
Skew-eyed, he sits on the piano stool,
Rocks in organ euphoria amongst
Rainwash Wales tittering …

Pascal Ansell
Kenyan djembes patter all around,
Christians queue for lunch like refugees,
And people walk and leer to their sound.
Long peals from bells flow through air,
And round the food they cluster like bees,
Kenyan djembes patter all around.
Benches abound while chairs are rare,
Coquettes stand straight and clap their knees,
And people walk and leer to their sound.
Profane and crass t-shirts worn without care,
Loud, Loud, they sing and tease,
Kenyan djembes all around.
At night, at Oyak, collectively they dare,
Sober yet innocent, innocuous deeds,
And people walk and leer to their sound.
Binding poles, connecting heaven in communal share,
Waves …

Thomas Ellison
They chewed their fatty beaks
Splitting salty feathers.
With tea breaks
With cream-cakes
With cheese & crackers.
With bread and butter
Dunking their half a stone
[Gained the week before]
That shattering chatter
Of eggs.
Yolkey and glistening
The craggy tips
Saw right up their cling-film skirts
Their sagging milky tea-stained tits.
——
This poem was one of the winners of the Barefoot in the Park competition.

Alex Valente
How do you write a tune in words?
Or, indeed, the smell of morning.
The sound of thoughts
buzzing in your head,
is it like a swarm of bees?
But ideas are silent
until they crash, and scream.
Not that silent after all.
I woke up today
and suddenly
nothing happened,
and everything didn’t.
So I had breakfast.
Bathed in new light,
robed in the rays of the sun,
I sat in my backyard,
with a bowl of cereals.
Two, three, maybe four bees
buzzing around my head
as if sounding my thoughts.
Or maybe, just maybe,
curious about my cereals.
So I ate my breakfast.
Humming the words of a tune,
enjoying …

Alex Valente
I am the mirror
the multi-faceted glass
that reflects, but does not
think. I show.
I am the show.
Welcome all, mesdames et messieurs,
Damen und Herren, signore e signori,
ladies and gentlemen
to your masquerade.
With every mask
a new persona. Who am I?
A Little Dove, simple, pure
beauty. Simply I love him
his iris of diamonds
colours of his heart.
A Little Dove, white and
in love.
A Sad Clown, writing,
pining in the light of the
Moon, au claire de la
Lune. For her, my Dove,
my Love, who loves me not.
Amor vincit omnia, I say.
I am a Doctor, from Latin
or Greek (like the yoghurt)
to duck …