So, the last time I posted anything on here, it was April 2022. A few things have happened in the intervening year and a half.
Chiefly, in a development that I could not have predicted at all this time last year, I have been lucky enough to bring out not one but two new pamphlets this year, through the completely unforeseen good fortune of attending the right open mic night and entering the right competition…
To Darren Beaney at Back Room Poetry and Janice and Donall Dempsey at VOLE Books – thank you so much for the opportunity to bring Plaque for the Unknown Socialist and No Other Life into the world! You can buy them both directly from me, signed and all, at my dedicated shop-site, http://timkielybooks.bigcartel.com
As for everything else, well… rather than uploading a whole series of separate bits, I think it’s best to just get everything else down here in one go, with a handy list and links for those who are interested! Since April 2022, I have:
- Got my work published in Impossible Archetype (twice, then thrice!), Dear Reader, Porridge, Atrium, Under the Radar, Ink Sweat & Tears (reviews as well as poems) and anthologies from Renard Press and Broken Sleep (coming January 2024!)
- Placed in a Members’ Competition for The Poetry Society which will mean entry into the running for next year’s Hamish Canham Prize
- Visited as many open mics and other events as I can manage, and was lucky enough to get a feature spot on the September edition of the Process Open Mic at Rule Zero in Hackney
- Continued to have fun with the Dead Darlings Podcast, including a spot in their 2022 Christmas Stocking and a feature at the Vogon Poetry Slam as the (then) Third Worst Poet in the Universe
- Had my world rocked by Jasmine Gardosi’s touring show ‘Dancing to Music You Hate’, and was even lucky enough to debut a new poem with their amazing backing band
- Been a guest on the Poetry Exchange podcast, talking about my long friendship with the poem ‘Timothy Winters’ by Charles Causley
- Moved to a new house in London in May 2022 and then in June went to Poland and got married. Which, now I think about it, probably explains a great deal about why it’s taken so long to get back to this…
A lot of life, suffice it to say, has taken place, evidenced by a great deal of poetry. Or possibly a great deal of poetry has been evidenced by life. At times it feels distinctly difficult to pick the two apart, but I think that is simply to be expected, past a certain point. Poetry is something that, for me at least, emerges from, and then entwines itself back into, my life. It is a constant now, as sure as the breath in my body, a continuous exchange that both sustains me and is sustained by me.
This has not been a year without its hardships. The poetry world as a whole experienced a shattering loss, and Gboyega Odubanjo has left a hole in our community that will take a long time indeed to heal. But I believe more powerfully than I did before that healing is not only possible, but inevitable. I believe it whenever someone lifts a finger to type, or begins to speak, and something brilliant stirs into life.
I look back on the year I have spent swimming in poetry, and while I am proud of what I have achieved and anxious to take my next steps, the mere fact of being a part of this rich ecosystem, this kingdom of weirdos and egotists and magicians and sages, is something that has blessed me down to my bones. On the days when I am demoralised, or bitter, or uninspired, I can put one foot in front of the other and say, as someone with very little faith of any kind left in them, that I believe in poets and poetry. And that can see you into the next day.
At the bottom of this post is a photograph I took at the very end of my second pamphlet launch of this year, at the Betsey Trotwood pub in Farringdon. The pub itself is a gem, a place to which many members of the poetry and wider arts scene in London and beyond can trace lineages of good work, good shows and good times. But for me it was even more important, however little a splash my own work might make in the grand scheme of things, to remember the warmth and human grace of that room, on that night, filled with poetry and the people who love it.
So here’s to more of that. And a bit less time before my next update…
Tim Kiely: Poetry etc. 