Porlock Arts and Literary Festival Poetry Picnic 2008 in West Somerset - poetry chat, poetry discussion and poetry debate on a bench

My natural tendency is to gravitate towards fringe events and, at folk festivals, it is at the free pub folk music sessions that you will usually find me happily joining in with other musicians in the general melee.

So, when I saw local village Porlock in West Somerset was hosting an arts and literary festival, I immediately looked for an equally laid back fringe event.

The Poetry Picnic seemed to fit my criteria and when I spotted that my old school buddy Peter Philpott was performing as part of the Minehead 4 poetry group, there was no holding me back.

Perhaps because of fears about the weather, the Poetry Picnic started off in the small village hall but, as the sun continued to shine outside, everybody moved to the picnic area behind the Porlock Visitors Centre where I shared a table with Scottish poet Alasdair Paterson and his wife.

The format for the event was that each poet took a turn to read our their poetry; some from scrappy pieces of paper and some from published books.

People could come and go as the performances went on so I took the chance to nip out with Peter (pictured left) to the local pub and catch up with his life.

Soon, I returned back to the Poetry Picnic where there were a wide range of styles from rap / rock to lyrical humorous. Some poetry was extremely dense, like pushing through the undergrowth of a forest with hidden thoughts constantly emerging. Others were simply descriptive narratives about a time, an emotion or a place that had caught the attention of the contributor. The guest poet Elisabeth Bletsoe read for about an hour with each word given intriguing emotional weight and resonance which afterwards left her looking emotionally drained.

Later, most of the poets went to the pub and chatted about poetry which gave me the opportunity to quiz and explore the beautiful minds of Elisabeth Bletsoe, Francis Presley and Tilla Brading - a truly exhilarating although rather scary intellectual experience.

My overriding thought as I headed home was that I had been in the company of some extremely clever people for whom poetry was not only a hobby but a life driving intellectual passion.

Whether my humble brain is truly able to ascend to their heady heights, I know not, but their company was hugely entertaining.

The Poetry Picnic was but an opportunity to dip my toe into the water. Perhaps soon it will be time to go for a poetic paddle.

The Poetry Picnic drew poets in groups from all over England, including London, Exeter and Plymouth. Maybe my next step might be to visit them on their home territory.

Hey, ho! One more reason to get the camper van out I suppose!

Do you read poetry? have you ever been part of a poetry group? What do you think? Were you at the Poetry Picnic? Do tell! Your comments are welcome below :-)

Bye for now

Rob

Rob Hopcott - online author, slightly intimidated by the intelligence of poets but nevertheless feeling strangely drawn into their esoteric world.