Margaret Atwood began writing poetry in high school, and the most thrilling moment of her writing career was the publication of her first poem: ‘I mean, all the other things that have happened since then were a thrill, but that was the biggest.’ She has gone on to publish 19 collections of poetry, as well as 14 novels – including 'The Handmaid’s Tale', 'The Blind Assassin' and 'MaddAddam', published last summer. Organised and methodical in writing fiction, she writes poetry ‘in a state of free float’, very often in hotel rooms or on planes. Her poems tend to begin with a cluster of words, around which they form – she has compared the process to ‘dipping a thread into a supersaturated solution to induce crystal formation’ – and sometimes they result in novels. In a conversation with Peter Kemp, Chief Fiction Reviewer of the Sunday Times, Atwood talks about how she believes that poetry and fiction use different parts of the brain, explains how poems can open doors into rooms which novels then enter and explore, and reads from her work.

We are grateful to the Canadian High Commission in the UK for hosting this event at Canada House. We are grateful to the TLS for supporting this event.

Margaret Atwood reads her poetry

Background, context, and poem text: http://www.brainpickings.org/2015/05/28/keeping-quiet-sylvia-boorstein-reads-pablo-neruda

Excerpted from https://soundcloud.com/onbeing/what-we-nurture-with-sylvia

MORE / POEM TEXT

Sylvia Boorstein reads "Keeping Quiet" by Pablo Neruda

This is a new concept I'm trying out; A poem within a poem. I think it offers an interesting dynamic. Hope you like it. 
Instrumental: "We're All Leaving" -Arcade Fire (From the "Her" Soundtrack)
Lyrics: 
In my dreams i lose the concept of time, its something that i don't really mind because its gonna take me a while to find out everything about you that i can, from the gentle touch of your hands to your toes in the sand of this beach devoid of reality, these brief moments that you've given me have brought me to the brink of insanity, but i simply don't care; your hair swaying with the wind, our beating hearts making up the only sound in between whispers that carry secrets too heavy to be heard aloud. 

You see, in my dreams every touch is gentle and warm, every kiss is filled with bliss, and every word that you say plays back in my head like the most beautiful song; and i struggle to hold on to the memories of the days where we laughed and played under the soft white bed sheets, the sweet smell of your perfume as you entered the room, those times where we would lay beside each other and smile as we stared at the moon, wondering if it was looking back at us and smiling too. 
In my dreams, forever never seems quite long enough. 
So if this is all the time we have, just don't wake me up. 
But in case you truly cant stay, ill leave you with a final poem:

"find me beneath the porcelain stars, amongst fragments of memories that define who we are,
touch me like a snowflake grazes a cheek, feel me like warm sand sinking under your feet,
And like lights that adorn the edges of streets, we touch the hearts of others as they pass through;
People will come in to our lives and eventually they'll leave, but what always remains...is how they changed you."
- Written and performed by Igor Oro

<a href="https://theartistunion.com/tracks/0a33ff" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Download for free on The Artist Union</a>

"In My Dreams" - A Spoken Word Poem

When it comes to life, it's all about perspective. 

Written and performed by Igor Oro
Music Sample credit: "Do What You Are Doing", by Dexter Britain

LYRICS
One day I asked a blind man if he knew what colors were. He said, "Well, I've never seen them, but in my mind the colour yellow...feels like the warm rays of sunshine. The color green, I imagine, is what covers the soft carpet of grass in an empty meadow; the colour red must be the screech of sirens and horns, and I could have sworn that I felt the calm of blue in the waters of the Atlantic"

"You see, my friend", he added, "I may not have the gift of sight, but I am thankful to be spared the blackness that engulfs the world at night. Although I cannot distinguish dark from light, I can still tell wrong from right; I can hear hidden tones in music that most people cannot, I can dream of beauty from just the scent of a rose, I can feel the crisp droplets of rain on my skin, and unlike others, I can actually see the wind."

"Never feel bad for a blind man," he said finally; "for you see the world for what it is..while I see it for what it could be." 

<a href="https://theartistunion.com/tracks/58ca38" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Download for free on The Artist Union</a>

"Thoughts of a Blind Man" - Inspirational Spoken Word Poetry

My name is Tess Turner -- at least, that's what I've always been told. I have a voice but it isn't mine. It used to say things so I'd fit in, to please my parents, to please my teachers. It used to tell the universe I was something I wasn't. It lied. Words scare me, the lies and the truth, so I decided to stop using them. I am Pluto. Silent. Inaccessible. Billions of miles away from everything I thought I knew.

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Fifteen-year-old Tess Turner is happiest away from the action. She longs for life on the periphery; it's quieter there. But Tess's parents, outgoing and confident, would love for their only child to grow up to be as social and popular as they are. And there's nothing wrong with that -- at least, not until Tess discovers that her dad is not her biological father. She was conceived via sperm donor and, as if finding this out wasn't bad enough, reading on a blog that "dad" struggled to love his "alien newborn" shatters her world. 

Tess doesn't mean to become a mute. At first, she's just too shocked to speak, overcome by the betrayal. As she sees how her refusal to speak frustrates her parents' expectations of her, Tess begins to enjoy the silence. She can finally shut out "the overbearing din of human existence" and becomes determined to find out who her real father is. But when Tess feels the most alone, suffocated by the silence she's created, she learns that no matter how hard she pushes her family away, they will always be there to pull her back from the edge. 

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SILENCE IS GOLDFISH by Annabel Pitcher, Read by Jayne Entwistle- Audiobook Excerpt

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