Thursday 24 February 2011
Tuesday 15 February 2011
The Scientific Poetry Show
The Scientific Poetry Show
A multi-purpose evening of humorous poetry, unscientific science, spiritual poetry, and music.
The launch of 2 new books by Peter Adams, the “homeopathic poet” – one about homeopathy, one of his poetry. The evening will be a reading of poems of various kinds, with a poetic look at science and a scientific look at homeopathy woven in.
Peter is a Registered Homeopath, the owner of Stroud Natural Health Clinic, and a frequent contributor to poetry evenings in Stroud.
With music by Jehanne and Rob Mehta
Bar. Books and CDs for Sale
Free Admission
Saturday 5 March 2011, 8pm
Imperial Hotel, Stroud
(Near The Railway Station)
Sunday 13 February 2011
Meeting 13th February
Today we were "dancing our dreams awake", moving from the internal, contemplative state of winter to a more active stance, thinking how we could manifest our hopes and dreams in the world.
Neesa began with a poem by Stephanie Kaza calling on Mother Earth. Then we sang a song "I walk in Beauty", to voice our intent to walk through life in a way that manifests our hopes and dreams.
I walk in beauty before me,
I walk in beauty behind me.
I walk in beauty above me,
I walk in beauty below me.
I walk in beauty all around me,
As I walk the beauty way
As I walk the beauty way
Peter read a poem:
Waking The Dreaming Self
I think I am walking on my own clean feet
But I end up knee deep in dirt.
I think I’m talking with my own pure tongue
But I hear poisonous words falling out of my mouth.
There is so much of me that I do not own -
I am riding a monster I cannot see
Except in the life I’ve made
And the world we share.
What is there waiting beneath our dreams, beneath our sleep
For our waking to reach down like dawn
And open it’s secrets?
What monsters, what caves, what treasures
Await the touch of our nervous feet,
And what streams of living water
Rise from those deep places?
Again and again life leads me to the living water
And I do not drink.
Again and again life takes me to the edge of my self
And I do not step over.
Again and again life shows me my ignorance
And I forget what I have seen.
Between opportunity and inertia, between courage and fear
I grow slowly like a crystal washed in a solution of experience.
I am learning the lesson of love as fast as I can
And painfully slowly.
I keep getting into trouble
And life keeps leading me to the water;
Next time I will stoop and drink.
Then Peter and Eve led an activity where we sent a message to our potential selves, showing how they might be brought into being over the coming year. Eve inspired us by reading a poem (see this website to read the poem).
We wrote or drew a picture, then swapped our messages with each other to have them read out to the circle. As Peter said, the 'wisdom and creativity' of the group was amazing.
Neesa led us in a dance, singing "I am making my dreams come true". Then Jehanne sang two songs, "February" and "Manon of the Storm" in French.
February
‘February fill the dykes’,
That’s what the old rhymes call her,
When the tumbling torrents split their sides
And there’s mud beside the river,
When thrushes on the rooftops sing
A tantalizing ode to spring,
But the east wind hasn’t lost its sting
And the winter’s not yet over.
O Candlemas if thou be fine,
Spring will be long a-coming,
But if thou bring us clouds and rain,
Why then it’s time for roving,
Where the February maid’s are seen
In bridal white all trimmed with green
And the east wind sweeps the pavements clean
All of a Sunday morning.
It’s time to clear the ditches out
And lay the blackthorn hedges.
I’ll send my love a valentine
And all my heart’s true pledges.
We’ll meet beneath the old yew tree
Just long enough to say ‘Goodbye’.
Tomorrow I’ll be on my way
As far as this road reaches.
It’s February clear the decks,
Let every land be shriven.\
If we sweep our debris from the sky
The earth will be forgiven.
There’s many a carnival played out
On the February roundabout,
And many a beast with horns and snout
Out of his corner driven.
I’ll take my music on my back,
I’ll take my scarf and jacket
And I’ll follow that old March hare along
Through all the toil and traffic.
I’ll not expect the year to bring
A fortune fair nor anything
But love and just a chance to sing
These few songs in my pocket.
I’ll not expect the year to bring
A fortune fair nor anything
But love and just a chance to sing
The new songs in my pocket.
© Jehanne Mehta
Manon of the Storm (rough translation from the French)
Manon of the storm goes out in the wind, that jostles the daffodils at the threshold of spring. She takes on the day with same fervour as the vows of young lovers. She braids the twisting tendrils of ivy in her long pale hair that floats on the air, and I realize that there’s s huge gap between me and her fabled country.
Chorus: Heat of the sun, solidity of earth, gusts of wind, torrents of rain. Eye of the storm, source of all passion, Manon your mystery is the mystery of life.
When she goes out in the morning under the oak trees and the box, her rustling dress is woven from the streaming rain, with its gleams of silver under the great grey clouds, and she opens to the secrets of the winds. Manon runs barefoot in the sea foam, on that edge which is neither water nor land, and that’s where she harvests those fertile flashes that inspire words and songs.
Chorus as above.
Manon of the storm does not let herself be trapped by numbers, structures, routines or notebooks. She lives in the moment, does not weep for tha past and opens like a flower in the spring. And sometimes when fear holds me rigid I think of her and at last I sense her secret: that passion is the reverse side of a peace so complete that it goes beyond all anguish and all fear.
Chorus: Song of the thrush at the winter’s end when the power of the green pierces the frozen soil. Source of miracles, source of inspiration, Manon your mystery is the mystery of life.
We closed with a further poem from Neesa, and singing "This little heart of mine".
Announcements: Maxine Bennett is running another workshop on "Sing and play Interfaith Chants: Create a soundscape" on 20th February 2.00pm - 5.00pm at the Landsdown Gallery. Contact Neesa for more information.
Peter will be launching his books at the Imperial Hotel in Stroud on 5th March (details to follow).
Neesa began with a poem by Stephanie Kaza calling on Mother Earth. Then we sang a song "I walk in Beauty", to voice our intent to walk through life in a way that manifests our hopes and dreams.
I walk in beauty before me,
I walk in beauty behind me.
I walk in beauty above me,
I walk in beauty below me.
I walk in beauty all around me,
As I walk the beauty way
As I walk the beauty way
Peter read a poem:
Waking The Dreaming Self
I think I am walking on my own clean feet
But I end up knee deep in dirt.
I think I’m talking with my own pure tongue
But I hear poisonous words falling out of my mouth.
There is so much of me that I do not own -
I am riding a monster I cannot see
Except in the life I’ve made
And the world we share.
What is there waiting beneath our dreams, beneath our sleep
For our waking to reach down like dawn
And open it’s secrets?
What monsters, what caves, what treasures
Await the touch of our nervous feet,
And what streams of living water
Rise from those deep places?
Again and again life leads me to the living water
And I do not drink.
Again and again life takes me to the edge of my self
And I do not step over.
Again and again life shows me my ignorance
And I forget what I have seen.
Between opportunity and inertia, between courage and fear
I grow slowly like a crystal washed in a solution of experience.
I am learning the lesson of love as fast as I can
And painfully slowly.
I keep getting into trouble
And life keeps leading me to the water;
Next time I will stoop and drink.
Then Peter and Eve led an activity where we sent a message to our potential selves, showing how they might be brought into being over the coming year. Eve inspired us by reading a poem (see this website to read the poem).
We wrote or drew a picture, then swapped our messages with each other to have them read out to the circle. As Peter said, the 'wisdom and creativity' of the group was amazing.
Neesa led us in a dance, singing "I am making my dreams come true". Then Jehanne sang two songs, "February" and "Manon of the Storm" in French.
February
‘February fill the dykes’,
That’s what the old rhymes call her,
When the tumbling torrents split their sides
And there’s mud beside the river,
When thrushes on the rooftops sing
A tantalizing ode to spring,
But the east wind hasn’t lost its sting
And the winter’s not yet over.
O Candlemas if thou be fine,
Spring will be long a-coming,
But if thou bring us clouds and rain,
Why then it’s time for roving,
Where the February maid’s are seen
In bridal white all trimmed with green
And the east wind sweeps the pavements clean
All of a Sunday morning.
It’s time to clear the ditches out
And lay the blackthorn hedges.
I’ll send my love a valentine
And all my heart’s true pledges.
We’ll meet beneath the old yew tree
Just long enough to say ‘Goodbye’.
Tomorrow I’ll be on my way
As far as this road reaches.
It’s February clear the decks,
Let every land be shriven.\
If we sweep our debris from the sky
The earth will be forgiven.
There’s many a carnival played out
On the February roundabout,
And many a beast with horns and snout
Out of his corner driven.
I’ll take my music on my back,
I’ll take my scarf and jacket
And I’ll follow that old March hare along
Through all the toil and traffic.
I’ll not expect the year to bring
A fortune fair nor anything
But love and just a chance to sing
These few songs in my pocket.
I’ll not expect the year to bring
A fortune fair nor anything
But love and just a chance to sing
The new songs in my pocket.
© Jehanne Mehta
Manon of the Storm (rough translation from the French)
Manon of the storm goes out in the wind, that jostles the daffodils at the threshold of spring. She takes on the day with same fervour as the vows of young lovers. She braids the twisting tendrils of ivy in her long pale hair that floats on the air, and I realize that there’s s huge gap between me and her fabled country.
Chorus: Heat of the sun, solidity of earth, gusts of wind, torrents of rain. Eye of the storm, source of all passion, Manon your mystery is the mystery of life.
When she goes out in the morning under the oak trees and the box, her rustling dress is woven from the streaming rain, with its gleams of silver under the great grey clouds, and she opens to the secrets of the winds. Manon runs barefoot in the sea foam, on that edge which is neither water nor land, and that’s where she harvests those fertile flashes that inspire words and songs.
Chorus as above.
Manon of the storm does not let herself be trapped by numbers, structures, routines or notebooks. She lives in the moment, does not weep for tha past and opens like a flower in the spring. And sometimes when fear holds me rigid I think of her and at last I sense her secret: that passion is the reverse side of a peace so complete that it goes beyond all anguish and all fear.
Chorus: Song of the thrush at the winter’s end when the power of the green pierces the frozen soil. Source of miracles, source of inspiration, Manon your mystery is the mystery of life.
We closed with a further poem from Neesa, and singing "This little heart of mine".
Announcements: Maxine Bennett is running another workshop on "Sing and play Interfaith Chants: Create a soundscape" on 20th February 2.00pm - 5.00pm at the Landsdown Gallery. Contact Neesa for more information.
Peter will be launching his books at the Imperial Hotel in Stroud on 5th March (details to follow).
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