2009 Poetry Introductions

                                           Introduction

Persons on the fringe, folk with ignition engaged, farmers left over from Field Days enticed by the advertised promise of an “open mic segment” on cushions, welcome one and all to an evening of poetry and reflection.  Not for us hardy literary types the cut and thrust of rugby football; we eschew the tantalising prospect of the Gallic rematch in favour of rhyme, rhythm and verse, of the latest offerings from the young bards of H-town, and Richard Selinkoff.

Before we get down to it there’s a house keeping announcement.  Would anyone keen on performing during the aforementioned open mike session please give their name to Megan Davies during intermission.

                                              Megan Davies

It is a measure of perhaps both the selflessness and masochism of our first poet that she compelled me to be as mean as I liked in her introduction.  If you were looking to in anyway scorn Meg it would be for the slightly sinister nature of her employment.  As I understand it she is something of a food nazi, mercilessly interogating folk about their dietry habits, building a data base for a future Final Solution plan to send us all to fat camp.  In all other aspects she is a real sweetie, one whose prickly exterior and habit of asking searching personal questions too often masks a maternalistic concern for her fellow man (and, yes, fellow woman).  She also takes poetry very, very, seriously, so pay attention.  Megan Davies.

                                               Nick Clothier

In some circles it is fashionable to mock school teaching as the preserve of those with an arts educstion who are otherwise unemployable.  Nick Clothier is surely an exception to this rule.  A long time mainstay of the Hamilton cultural community, his robust stage presence has featured in many a production and gig.  Seen at his best in The Big Muffin Serious Band, he also once wrote a play that I thought wasn’t half bad.  Nick Clothier.
                                    Victoria Wynne-Jones

Earlier this year Victoria Wynne-Jones departed our city for that horrid metropolis to the north. A gaping chasm opened up in the cultural space she formerly occupied, leaving us bereft and aimless and lacking in the kind of stylistic guidance that only genuine arbitors of taste can provide.  The down side to her return tonight is the agonising briefness of the engagement and the stark realisation that tomorrow she will again be gone.  Victoria Wynne-Jones.

                                                 Jon Arcus

First up we have one of the instigators of proceedings, the redoubtable Jon Arcus.  A warm spirited humanitarian, occasional musician, wit and raconteur Jon’s initial poetic endeavours were devoted to his beloved sporting code of choice.   While his early blank verse plea ‘Andrew Johns, Keep it in Your Pants’ was widely dismissed as didactic and heavy handed by Australian critics and largely ignored by the player himself, he latterly triumphed with the more personal ‘O Little General, Why Hath You Deserted Me?’ its heartfelt ode to club and country moving Stacy Jones to come out of retirement for the fifteenth time in five years.  Jon’s nuanced haiku on the ‘40/20′, ‘Big Kick, Much Ground’, was also widely respected in Japanese circles.  Ladies and gentlemen, Jon Arcus.

                                            Meliors Simms

It is hardly fair to judge an individual by her family but when it comes our next poet the lineage bears repeating.  Meliors’ father is an academic of formidible intelligence and insight, her mother is president of the Waikato Society of Arts and her brother is a bit of merchant banker.  Since returning to Hamilton from an extended stint in places that weren’t Hamilton Meliors has launched a one-woman crusade of optimism and artistic expression, encouraging us all to sketch, and scribble and photocopy.  Her post-Who ‘zine, ‘Happy Bus’ is a tonic for our challenging times, and is, incidentally, available for purchase at Auteur House, 555 Victoria St, up stairs from Mark One Comics, across the road from Kathmandu.  Meliors Simms.
                                               Dean Ballinger

As renaissance men go the next contributor rates pretty high.  Dean Ballinger is Hamilton’s answer to Leonardo Da Vinci.  Such is his mastery of every field of artistic endeavour it is a wonder that the rest of us bother to compete.  Quite simply, he possesses the finest brain and prose style in town, is the city’s preeminent cartoonist, best surf band drummer, most witty radio announcer, and, almost incidentally, one of its few published poets.  Ironically, the singular area in which he is second best is in the subject that makes up his doctoral study: I have it on good authority that Paul T. knows more about conspiracy theories than Dean ever will.  Anyway, Dean Ballinger.
            
                                               Geoff Doube

Our next performer may well be making his public poetry debut, unless one counts of course close on a decade’s worth of front-man responsibilites with his band “The Shrugs”.  Few can match Geoffrey’s adeptness with language or facility with ideas.  He is the best advertisement I know for studying philosophy in that his ability to argue about the real and the concrete is easily the equal of his grasp of abstract thought.  Those who bandy words with Geoff seldom survive with their preconceptions intact.  Geoff Doube.
                                           Richard Selinkoff

Last year Richard Selinkoff favoured us with a few choice observations about dogs sniffing each others arseholes.  Not one to shy away from hard hitting, provocative metaphors, ever keen to expose himself body and soul for the greater literary good, his is a deeply personal art, an exploration of life’s rich tapestry by one who has been there, done that, and started all over again.  In his declining years he has also found acclaim as a Shakespearean character actor, specialising in bogus patriach roles.  The casting could not be any better for Richard is the grizzled, world weary Jewish father we all secretly wished we had.  Richard Selikoff.
            
                                               Ravi Prasad

The next poet has me at a considerable disadvantage.  Tonight’s voice of youth, his precocious talent is as new to me as it will be to you.  An adjective those in the know have used to describe his work is “provocative”.  Ravi is interested in philosophy and vegetarianism and likes telling the odd tale.  Ravi Prasad.

                           Intermission/Stan and Don
Righto, we will now take a break of approxiamately 15 minutes duration.  Feel free to indulge each and every vice: stretch your legs, mainline tobacco or sneak a peak at France v All Blacks II.  During the intermission musical entertainment will be provided by Mr Stanley Jagger and Mr Donald Smith, respectively noted guitarist and emerging violinist.  Stan may well be warming up the vocal cords in anticipation of his singing debut with Da Kranks on Thursday: betting on whether he is a bass or barritone has certainly been heavy to date, and the book is now officially closed.

One last thing: remember to give your names to young Meg if you intend using the open microphone.  See you in quarter of an hour.
                                            Post Intermission

Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement: All Blacks X, France Y.  And now back to poetry in verse rather than motion.
                        Open Microphone Introduction

That concludes the advertised portion of our programme.  Now on to poetry from the floor, as it were.