Stirred: Witches Performance Night

Stirred: Witches on 27th October was a spell binding concoction of voices with so many different interpretations of witches and witchcraft. The open micers and guests were fantastic, full open micer list here:

Camille Ralphs, Sarah Miller, Debra Black, Melanie Rees, Anna Tuck, Danielle Matthews, Madie Howard, Ros Ballinger, Jasmine Chatfield, Lenni Sanders, Ben Williems, Sophie, Rosie Cosney, Sarah Pritchard, Jack  Nicholls, Jocelyn, and Rob Dunford.

Special Guests:

Kate Garrett

Chris Harland

Wining Poems for the task of writing a tribute poem to the lost women of knowledge, witches:

Winehousing

They turned you monstrous, ogre-like,
Drug-fucked and eyeliner-run down onto
Wasted cheeks. They glued their eyes on you in disgust
Dunked you in the pond. But I still see you and remember,
The human face.

Ros Ballinger

IMG_1859[1]

The skin of the man I loved smacked my cheek
In tiny flecks-his blood dripping-
All vague thought to say about the gunman’s pursuit
Was how ‘ironic’ I became in my pink channel suit.

Madie Howard

 

A nation’s maiden, then mother, then crone,
Clumps of grey hair now litter her throne.
Her empire died, that was built on death,
Poor HRH, poor Elizabeth

Steve Tomkinson

mel

Entries:

You can emulate my darkness
And my poison prowess
But do not forget
That where there is antimatter,
There is matter
And my heart will always balance
Stone cold warmth
Maybe I could save you from the monotony.

Sophie.

She screams with terror through man’s claim
Convicted of a murder, wrongly blamed
Her innocence, she’ll never gain
As her life fades through fire and pain

James Ross
Above the Nick

Endangered creatures fly atop Pendle Hill
But not witches, for there are dotterels still
Orange hued plovers at limits of their range
Summon incantations, their fortunes to change.

Rob Dunford

IMG_1865[1]

I love that witch
I love that witch
Swinging in slow motion
From the petard-my mother.

Anon

 

Maggie Thatcher
Didn’t mean to be a cow
She just couldn’t understand how
It feels not to have any money
Till poverty becomes,
Deliriously funny

Anna T

Please witch you can’t live here no more
You’re a little bit smelly, and boy can you snore
As for your cat it’s the absolute limit
Each fur ball I step on makes me want to kill it!

Deborah Black.

 

Next Stirred is on Monday 24th November, theme is Galaxies.

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About

The Stirred quad is formed of Rebecca Audra Smith, Anna Percy, Jasmine Chatfield and Lenni Sanders.

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Posted in Events, Feminist thinking, Guest Poet

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The Stirred team at Reclaim the Night Manchester 2015
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