On Wednesday, Lewis Buxton (poet and producer) was joined by Raymond Antrobus and Joe Dunthorne to discuss poetry, positivity through the pandemic, and the value of community. The three kept up a friendly rapport, and the talk felt much more like a catch-up between friends than a formal discussion. The session alternated between question-fuelled discussion…
Books
Should we mourn GCSE poetry?
Ofqual’s decision to make GCSE poetry optional in 2021 has sparked mixed opinions, with the current Poet Laureate, Simon Armitage, and other writers deeming it “a dangerous first step” in undermining the importance of the arts. Ofqual’s justification for their decision is that it will prevent students having to study complicated poems remotely. However, at…
#BLM, Music, Venue
A sign of the ages: Pieces of a Man
Gil Scott-Heron’s 1971 timeless debut album, Pieces of a Man, is a staple of powerful genius, a commentary that still proves as relevant almost fifty years on from its release. Scott-Heron’s statement of well-crafted intellect was built on a recipe of jazz, soul, funk and spoken-word that ultimately gave him the alias ‘The Godfather of…
#BLM, Books, Venue
Spotlight on Black poets: The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
Gil Scott-Heron, an American soul and jazz poet and spoken word artist, is one of the most influential Black poets. Born in Chicago in 1949, he was educated in a prestigious New York high school by way of scholarship and worked all the while as teacher in Creative Writing during his music career. His most…
Creative Writing, Venue
This World, A City
This world, a city, dragged me by force uprooted me from a town that parented me. It took me in, made an adult, from a child, reared me to walk tall, two feet, no crawling anymore, each foot, on familiar stones. Home. Like Concrete on Facebook to stay up to date
Creative Writing, Venue
Quarantine Week Six
It is the tenth of May 6:58p.m. and we are all huddled up on the living room sofa hands wringing hands phones poised on each letters each of us in preparation (though we know the rumours the leaks the consequences) our stomachs bundled like our arms in our duvets mouths slack and transfixed; waiting, waiting…
Creative Writing, Venue
When This is Over
Son, when all this is over you will remember there’s an entire world out there that you have never explored, so you will run around and meet other kids and play tag and fill your lives with laughter, and this house will be a home once more instead of prison walls or some fortified tower…
Creative Writing, Venue
Nest
They were walking to work. Unusually warm for an April morning, but they thought it felt so cold. To be exact it felt absolutely freezing. Yet, off came the coat, the jumper, the scarf until all that was left was a shirt and trousers containing a shell. The other humans plodded towards the hive, otherwise…
Creative Writing, Venue
The Attic Head
The ceramics teacher wanted to make mothers of us, ‘Make yourself in your image,’ and we all got to work, squeezing these wet slabs, pressing, thumbing, stretching lids over eyes, strands over scalps, building a mirror from the dust that layered every hand. Back from the kiln, the ward, its birthing heat, and I…
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