I’m doing a few solo poetry shows this year, starting this month with Chester, Lincoln & Scarborough.
I’ll be in Falmouth, Totnes & Launceston in April. And Belfast & Dublin in October.
If you fancy coming along to a show, you can get tickets here: https://brianbilston.com/events/
Brian Bilston 
Thoroughly enjoyed your poetry night with Henry Normal in Sunderland … so do you fancy coming back up to the North East? Sunderland? Durham?
Thanks very much. I’m sure I’ll be back at some stage. I’m going to be having a bit of break from gigs for a while, though, after the ones announced for this year.
Perhaps you’d like to read out this poem of mine, when you play Chester??!! (tongue in cheek question, answer obvious)
It comes to something when religious figures
As high as Bishops, and of various different hues,
Expose themselves as not able to trigger
Change in hearts and minds, just citing ‘No can do’s
You ask for help to scatter loved ones’ ashes
At the site where they first met, in 1950;
Though they are on the ‘Board’, they’ve claimed, sorry, this clashes
With no legal remit properly to assist me
Outnumbered, by nineteen to three, I’d guess
These clerics mightn’t have said ‘No’, and so I sensed it
Was a possibility they’d voted ‘Yes’;
But they won’t say ‘Yes, we didn’t vote against it’
No one asked if you could actually enforce matters,
But through your status, perhaps, prompt reconsideration
Of a refusal that’s left long standing plans in tatters,
And seemed inexplicable, for all their ‘commiseration’
For other people were the actual concoctors
Of this rejection, before the ‘Board’ had rubber stamped it;
This included four Professors, and a Doctor –
The ‘Strategic Executive Team’ (with its ‘property management’ ambit)
Which organization would refuse to help me out, and thereby mars
This cathartic, religious rite with their perversity?
Who fails the community, won’t facilitate, won’t help out, and just
debars?
Well, I’ll tell you – it was Chester University
Fifteen such colleges united, now they make up
The so called, quote, ‘Cathedral Group of Universities’;
Perhaps their byword, ‘Christian ethos’, needs a shake-up –
They’re certainly lacking in the way of afforded courtesies
I’d written to them, August, in my grief,
Explained my wish, what it was we wanted when they died;
Read their response, but I was shocked beyond belief –
‘Find somewhere else’, was all they’d unfeelingly replied
I’m by no means a ‘go-getter’, but followed up my original letter;
From the Charity Commission? Nowt, no help or guidance;
I’d perchance have fared much better had I emblazoned it ‘cross a sweater,
As from the Chancellor – one Gyles Brandreth – ‘radio silence’
My mother was from Chester, Vicar’s Cross,
Don’t think she’d welcome this clear snub, she’d have them sussed;
I’m sure most Cestrians themselves are at a loss
At such an uncharitable stance from a so called ‘charitable trust’
Mom and Dad met there, they told me, in the NAAFI
(For which, read – the wartime Forces’ own canteen);
What you and I would nowadays just call ‘the cafe’),
On a site they didn’t acquire till 2014
When we’d lost family, Mom would still visit her home town,
I’d take their picture, by the gate, on holidays;
We’d walk all day, right from the Cross, up, to the Dee, down,
We’d stay at Barbara’s, right next door, the ‘Tentry Heys’
It’s a place out of the way, this is what rankles,
It’s not as if it’s Wembley, or Anfield –
Where ashes might well build, perhaps up to the ankles
Of players, as they lay, fell, sprawled, ran, kneeled
I keep wondering why it is they’d get so hot
Under the collar – why’s this an issue not to yield on?
If they did so, what would really be the upshot?
They’d have one tiny piece of land less for to build on…
Well, that’s my story, and I’m really at wits’ end
As to what occurs when it’s now my turn to die;
For all three of us, this was what I’d had as penned;
I’ve aged, 20 years, in the face, just since July
So I’m left an as yet unfulfilled requester;
Made my request, but had it firmly shoved
Where the sun don’t shine; I know this isn’t the Chester
Where they fell in love, and then, forever, loved…
Thanks for sharing that with me, Keith. How incredibly difficult and frustrating for you.
Very surprised you actually took this on board, Brian, but thank you very much. The story was published locally in Chester, late 2021, early 2022. Much valued support from readers, but they never changed their minds. Gyles did actually comment, much later (when pressed by others), and was very encouraging – but pointed out his role as Chancellor is an honorary one. Thanks again.
To reciprocate for kindly including my poem about my parents, and the University of Chester, I’d like to send you this one – about you – I compiled, as you can see from the Boris Johnson line, some time ago! I think I may have sent you it at some point, you might have chosen not to use it. If you think I’m not taking up too much of this page’s space, feel free to include. Up to you.
‘ Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’ ‘
(to the tune of ‘Michael Finnegan’)
(an ‘unboundedly long song’)
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’,
Home to satire and wit (if not to oratory),
That all the Tories found derogatory,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’
That half the country deemed obligatory
To view, to offset Boris’s bigotry,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’,
Where money and solicitors were not mandatory
To air remarks oft times allegatory,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’,
No need to shift to chill, to ‘hug a tree’,
Just take your phone, and read it in the lavatory,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’,
Where Brian penned posts affirmatory,
In simple words, non-obfuscatory,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’,
Where we all left comments, complimentary,
Other sites just were not our cup of tea,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’
/
There was a website called ‘Poetry Laboetry’,
Now I’m groping for a tag line that’s conclusory,
There’s none, this genre’s end is illusory,
Brian Bilston’s ‘Poetry Laboetry’…
Delightful. Thanks for sharing that with me.