On a wet, winter evening in 2008, the wind thrashes me through the door of The Lansdown, a busy Clifton pub, where I stand dripping onto the stripped floorboards and scanning the room for poets. I recently heard Andrew Motion admit in a TV interview that, as a poet in training, he had once worn a cape; but the truth is that poets just look like everybody else. I do notice several bearded and serious-minded-looking people in the bar, but there is no indication where I can find the 'Lansdown Poets.' The woman behind the counter nods me up two flights of stairs to a deserted function room, where I hang around for a while sipping on a diet coke and learning an important lesson: poets are not punctual. When they do wander in, however, introductions are made.
I already know some names from the anthology the group published in 2008, called simply Lansdown Poets (Poetry Monthly Press). The leader and founder of the group is Charles Thompson, an admirer of the Romantics and keen allotment holder, who, as the evening draws on, shows his teacher's skill for responding spontaneously to poets' work and for keeping the discussion flowing. He also shares with us some of his own nature poetry and throws in an appropriate quotation or two. When I ask him about his motivation for setting up the group in 2004, he quotes Keats: '"Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced" so, with poetry, it becomes real when it is experienced. I, and my fellow poets, sought a place where we could share our poetry, make it become real.'
The method of working in the group is straightforward, but surprisingly open. Everyone gets to read a piece and hear feedback, then it's down to the bar for a drink, and into round two. Comments are sometimes highly specific, about a particular word or phrase that doesn't seem to work, and sometimes general objections are raised against a poetic idea or the poet's way of thinking about the issue at hand. Equally often, you can sense genuine excitement as the listeners encounter a surprising or original idea conveyed in surprising and original language. An atmosphere of mutual support is essential, Charles tells me: 'When I founded the group, I wanted to help poets coax improvements from each other through the poems they offered and through encouraging comments. I thought these improvements would relate to increasingly skilful use of language and manipulation of form, the better marriage of form and feeling.'
The group provides a forum for poets at many different stages of their development and with wide-ranging interests: David C. Johnson and Trevor Carter, the 'Bard of Windmill Hill', are well-known local performance poets with published collections; Mary Crowder has a strong interest in drawing and explores the visual potential of typography in her poetry and in her artwork; Mark Sayers is the group's Betjeman, with a love of rhyme and an eye for the humour and contradictions of contemporary life; Rupert Hopkins is a Bristol beat poet, whose work often reflects on his extensive travels. Then there are three the Davids: Cook, Whitwell and Sollors, the former two both with professional backgrounds in psychiatry. David W. writes meditative free verse that reminds us that 'life is possible,' whereas David C. contributes versions of poems by Rilke and his own carefully observed pieces on perception and mortality - occasionally he gives us tips for the horses, too. David S.'s work covers many themes, often with a political edge, and has appeared in a number of national and international magazines.
This is not my first port of call on my search for a poetry group to join in the Bristol area. There are plenty to choose from (Poetry Can has good listings), but I soon feel that this may be the group that will, as Charles puts it, 'make it real' for me. Poetry groups at their best are a friendly but critical audience, a chance to hear how a poem really sounds with other people in the room, and an opportunity to see those people's faces as they listen to what you have written; even if everyone here is unfailingly polite, that initial, unfiltered reaction is a great litmus test for your work.
It's a sign of the welcoming atmosphere upstairs at The Lansdown that I do read, not once, but twice on my first visit; and those real reactions, I can tell, are already helping me to make the work better and be more critical with myself. Just as importantly, listening to and commenting on other people's work is making me think more clearly about what I value in poetry and what I want to achieve. As Peter Sansom puts it in his Writing Poems (1994), poetry groups are also about 'learning discrimination and sorting out what makes poems work.'
The Lansdown Poets usually meet on the third Tuesday night of the month, upstairs at The Lansdown (8 Clifton Rd, Clifton, Bristol), 7.30 p.m. for 8.00 p.m. (if they are on time). Bring along a couple of pieces to share. The group also organises an event every year as part of Bristol Poetry Festival. Contact Charles Thompson (ThompsonC@CityBathColl.ac.uk) for further details.
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