Arts Development UK Conference 2012 - Poetry (1)

Posted on 21 November 2012 | Poem

Culture is…
A way of life, for everyone
Without culture we are nothing.
Art is…
Once it was powder paint
Being the paint monitor.
Then it was cartoons and designs.
Now it is words, images, syllables, sounds.

From coffee pots to tea pots
We love a good beverage
Now they are touchable
Everything is touchable
Can I touch?
- Katherine

Can you see me?
Would you notice if I were gone?
Among the sea of clones
I am translucent
Making not a noise
Though people come to hear my song
So listen
For in this spiritual place
You may just see my thin string sway
And hear my story told.
- Carys Wynne

Sunlight glinted
Laughter glittered
Across …
… the streets
The bells
The careful
Stitches …
Eyes and ears
The spirit entwined.
- Emma

“3 layers joined by stitch”
She said
That’s a quilt
In a room that’s 600 year old
Like my nan
Though her quilts were on the outside

Rural Arts
Just a building?
… a vision of what can be or a taste of what was?
A place, a purpose, a passion
… for the community, by the community or of the community?
Or a home, somewhere to belong
No … an arts centre (all of the above)
- Verity Hiscocks


I went to the quilt museum
To have a look and see’um
OMG above I think I fell I love
I said bring back this beautiful tradition
And god damn that bloody coalition

Spring Bronze, 1966 Barbara Hepworth 
“Look at me, look at me”, Spring screamed!
Its azure centre tantalisingly colourful in a sea of grey.
“You want to touch my curved cast sides, but you can’t. I’m too precious”
“And don’t even think about plucking my strings, I’m not to be played or played with”
“Instead, walk around and appreciate the changing perspective my hollow offers and consider the intricacy of my pierced and twine taut innard.”

I think I’ve developed a thirst for Thirsk,
It wasn’t my second visit but my first,
The old courthouse has been converted,
The course of justice has been perverted,
To a changing landscape from which the arts can burst.

A coffee and a fish
A fish and a coffee pot
What have you got in common?
We have been stitched together
Again and again
Is it a stitch up?
- Katherine

Old wood that smells good
High roof and carved bosses
And the rag trade crafted
Into art below
Uniform in colour
With more and more detail
The closer you get
Tactile and tempting but
Don’t touch
Quite solemn

Courthouse reflects on becoming an arts centre
My blind eyes open
Shutters removed
Windows widen and even stained glass installed!
A cafe replaces chairs
Magistrates bench hauled away
Despair and anger scrubbed off
Applause replaces moans –
and children: children play here, now rather than re country crimes.
Really I can’t stand it.
All this joy, but we move on with the times, yeh?
- Rose Drew

Slappy the Bus Driver
I’m a Yorkshire man
Born and bred
It’s said this is North Yorkshire but
It’s East Riding to me.
Call it what you like
Call me Slappy
And call Thirsk for what it is:
The true home of James Herriot;
The edge of the North Yorkshire Moors;
And part of East Ridings.

Bells, flour, quilts
This is how I’ve spent my day
It was cut short
For Betty’s called
Some may call this skinning
I call it supporting my local community
- Lucia

The Hub
Copper dad
Conducting innovative
- Diana Pasek-Atkinson