Friends, family, fans, lovers and occasional readers… I’ve moved blog! You can now find me at The Vintage Poet on blogspot. Blogspot allows me a little more freedom in terms of design, links and apps (gosh, don’t I sound technical?). Would love you to come and join me in my new world – same content, but bigger, brighter and better. You’ll find all my content shifted over, as well as newer posts for upcoming events (like my poetry performance tomorrow night supporting Pascale Petit! some great poets involved.)

Thanks for being such lovely wordpress readers. I hope to entertain you with many more stories and fabulous features on my new site.

With love, Miss Mink x

Stepping up to the retro mic...

Yes, it was 1939 (Friday 27th August to be exact) when Juliet’s Restaurant in Tunbridge Wells was transformed into a war-time bunker and subsequently taken over by a surge of vintage enthusiasts, all reporting for feel-good duty. Little wonder, since event organiser Jessica Hargreaves had successfully rounded up a menagerie of entertainers, fine wines and a plate of Juliet’s scrumptious food for every guest. Candles, framed photos of sepia movie stars and Union Jack bunting decorated the joint, including my poem Poetry for Victory, which spiraled up the staircase for guests (and curious little boys) to read.

After wine and pies were dished out with a serving of swing music, we were entertained with a dancing strawberry cheesecake burlesque act and ‘king of the swing bands’ Ta Mere, who buoyed everybody up onto the dance floor with their big band, gypsy and bluegrass menage a trois.

Sandwiched in between these fabulous acts was little me, performing three poems, two of which I was commissioned to write for the event. After warming my vocals with E.E Cummings ‘my sweet old etcetera’ I launched into ‘Poetry for Victory’, marching through triumphant stanzas of homeward bound soldiers stamping with their rising metric feet. This received a drunken cheery reception, but not as much as my tribute to wartime pin-up girls entitled ‘War Time Pin-Up’ (due to be published in the next issue of Glimpse magazine). I took a quick bow, snapped my book shut and hit the bottle, dancing the night away on a sixpence until the early hours of seduction.

Poetry for Victory!

I’d like to thank Jessica (and all the girls at Juliet’s) for organising a truly outstanding night with aplomb, and for inviting me to read. After such an enjoyable occasion, I’m sure I’ll be donning my robes, roses and words for another pin-up poetry performance in the near future.

Before then, I’ll be supporting French poet Pascale Petit alongside poetry peers for the Walthamstow Forest Stanza gig. More information to come…

Signing off

MM x

I take it you're pleased to see me.

Last Friday was a mess of poetry, sing-songs, sex-red vinos, devilishly blonde champagne (courtesy of the Kaiser Chiefs), approx’ 5 pots of pickles, 1 magician and a gaggle of poets – in other words, a call to arms for the birthday man himself Mr. Tim knock-em-dead Wells.

The Betsy Trotwood pub in Farringdon played host to the usual line-up, though we were missing a few veterans (award winning poet Helen Mort and striking stand-up Salena Godden to name a few). Pity, but the stage crackled under the feet of Clare Pollard, Ashna Sarkar, comedy actress Karen Hayley – who cracked us all up reading excerpts of a Jackie Collin’s novel – and myself (twice, if you count my stint with the merlin of all magicians Nathan Penlington)

Thanks to Tim, I’m published in his notorious Rising magazine (Mrs Hyde). I call it notorious and I call it a magazine – it may be both or neither. Anyway, aside from the typos, which Tim assures me are a regular feature, it’s a bloody good on-yer-feet read. I’m proud to be accepted into the Wellsian clan and for the first time I feel part of a poetical movement; a played-with doll in a poetry school that truly IS rising, if it hasn’t risen already.

Claire motored out her oil-slick poetry while Ash vented passion with a few sex poems. I chose to read a piece I wrote for Mr. Wells himself as a birthday gift called ‘Shoebox Pometry’ (I might post it below if I’m in the mood).

When the witching hour struck I woke up on a bench behind Clare Pollard’s arse. Yes, it all got a bit messy… but it was a damn good mess that no one needed or wanted to clean up.

Here’s to the rising of the risen and rise will….

Shoebox Pometry (For Tim Wells)

Clearing out the stacks

of my paper-cut biography,

holding up a torch

to this attic’s past,

I find myself reading through

old scraps of my pometry.

Half-arsed pomes, epic A4

pomes, ideas of pomes

penned on beer mats,

most of which I never

gave a monkey’s for

thinking they were crap,

but stowed ‘em away anyway.

As I read them over,

I’m pleasantly surprised.

I find myself thinking…

“huh, some of these ain’t too bad.”

Even the really shit ones

have something to say

or say something at least,

in a loquacious way.

They’ve been left to ferment

in the toy box of

“no one gives a fuck”

Just long enough to shrug off

any insecurities, mental oddities,

a crooked sense

of other poets’ influence;

or those times I choked

on left-over similes.

The gems I find here

aren’t the ones we tend to write

in the well of night,

in the midst of skunk,

or gabbing drunk at 4am

thinking you’re Michelangelo.

Those pomes are posers;

Pretentious-clad celebrities.

Take them dark glasses off

and what are you left with underneath

in the cold light of day?

THESE pomes are crafted

in the miniature galaxy of

soul surfing.

A sort of mental laxative

where out of chaos

comes a winning disaster:

Quality Street moment here,

insightful sentence there;

the promise of god

or something LIKE him,

rising out of the unconscious

nowhere.

Take this pome for instance,

it might not be a Wordsworthian hit

or a Wellsian classic,

but give it four years

stuffed inside an old shoebox

and let’s see what happens.

You never know,

it might just turn out

brand-spanking good.

]]> http://pinuppoet.wordpress.com/2010/08/23/rising-to-the-challenge-happy-birthday-tim-wells/feed/ 1 pinuppoet Rising Cover http://pinuppoet.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/pin-up-poetry-performace-in-1939/ http://pinuppoet.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/pin-up-poetry-performace-in-1939/#comments Wed, 18 Aug 2010 13:50:36 +0000 pinuppoet http://pinuppoet.wordpress.com/?p=92 Continue reading →]]> Hello world!

Reading poetry for victory!

Some exciting news… I’ve been asked to perform my pin-up poetry for The Midnight Society’s wartime event 1939! Described as an evening of war-time splendour and Blitz frivolity (to lift the spirits of the weary), there’ll be live swing bands, cake stalls, wicked cocktails, vintage performance and pin-up poetry, aka yours truly.

In case you’re wondering, this won’t be a burlesque or strip-style poetry performance, rather a straight reading of my war-time poem The Mortal Blow, and perhaps a couple of other suitable pieces. Naturally I will be making my own war-time effort, performing in splendid attire befitting the period.

Taking place in Juliet’s – a restaurant in Tunbridge Wells, The Midnight Society aim to bring lavish London period events to towns and cities outside London. It’s a bloody good idea and tickets are already selling out for Londoners and Tunbridge folk alike. It’s only 40 minutes south of London and tickets are 15.00 for an entire night of entertainment, plus a plate of  Juliet’s divine edibles.

So grab your union jacks and head to our shelter at Juliet’s to buy your tickets before its too late!!!!

Britches and Hoes

Hello world!

Apologies for not posting sooner, I vanished briefly from the hectic world of pin-up and poetry to rest my poor, overworked soul. Before it all kicks off again in August with more madness and mayhem, here’s a little post to share with you about The Chap’s debut line of greetings cards. The cards feature past iconic covers, featuring myself, Fleur De Guerre, Faye Fornasier (editor of Nutshell Magazine) and Michael ‘Atters’ Attree amongst other fine specimens of chaps and chapettes. Tag-lines include “Many Happy Returns Old Bean” and “Birthday Wishes Old Chap!” Each card costs 2.50 or 20.00 for a pack of ten. Be sure to buy yours in time for that special Birthday/Anniversary/Christmas/Drinkathon occasion from The Chap website.

Best Days of Your Life?

Miss Mink as Leda

Hello world!

It’s time for a new post, so why not go all out in a blaze of fiery feathers? Love is the Law Magazine commissioned me last December for a pin-up poetry set for Issue 2, The Animal Issue (out now).  Inspired by Yeats’ Leda and the Swan, especially the brutality of Zeus, I re-worked both myth and concept into a modern-day relationship – the idea of a past lover being reborn into our life phoenix-like, no matter how hard we try to extinguish ‘them’… This girl fans her old flame before finally being reborn. Or perhaps fire is just too much of a lure…

To see the full set of photos and poem, visit the magazine here.

Nutshell Magazine has really cracked the kernel with their second issue of poetry, short stories and illustration. I’m holding it in my hands right now and boy does it feel slick. I love those semi-gloss covers and that fresh scent of newly published paper, not to mention the Pandoraic promise of abundance shifting impatiently about inside its silky shell…

Conker that lot!

I love it even more that my poem ‘Thanks for the Ad’ is published  amongst some top clout in the form of Don Patterson, Paul McGrane and Eli Goldstone. Every page is a anchor of inspiring work and I’m proud of the editorial board for pulling it together in such fine condition.

Issue 2 will be launched in true style at The Last Days of Decadence on June 27th. I’ll be reading 15 minutes worth of work dressed up in some sassy costumes, accompanied by Eli, Paul et al, and some raucus live music from Trent Miller & The Skeleton Jive.

Nutshell + Launch Party = Sex

There’ll be drinks, dancing, swing-outs and general poetry mayhem, so come along for a night of artistic decadence in the last days of June. For more information, read the website here.

Be seeing you there, I hope.

Miss Mink

x x x

It’s been a violently busy few weeks! what with writing Stocking Poems to a tightly threaded form, organising fashion features, modeling pin-up and attending the riotous vintage dance-bar Shugapush til the Devil’s hour! But FINALLY it’s Sunday, and I’m flat out on my belly like a salamander in the sun.

Double trouble feature today…

First up, here’s a sneak preview for Glimpse Magazine (formerly Peek!), called 7 Heavenly Stocking Days. The poem I’ve penned under the same name walks us ladies (and ladies of the night) through each day of the week in an array of different coloured seams to match our sartorial style. This is Tuesday’s Girl, courtesy of Tony Nylons!

"Tuesday's Woman wears blue stockings, debates with Worsted high-brow colleagues"

Glimpse is currently under the press, due out in June. It’s set to be a fabulous issue so don’t forget to subscribe here! Meanwhile, here’s my poem Wind Up which I wrote for Peek, Issue 1. You can’t read the small print posted on the fan page, so here’s the easy-eye font and a small pic to remind you of the shoot it accompanied…

Wind Up

This rocket is ready to launch.

Tilting her lovely face down,
he preps the spring
that works her Vargas neck
until it clicks – until her body docks
into something more deceiving,
a lacier pulse.

And with its fashion, pin and joint
ally forgotten,
under-dressed in waves of rip-curl browns
against the soft chalk cliff of face
and down
further,
breaking against
her pearls who shadow bloodlessly
under riper, whiter swells.

***

Oh perfection! Madam,
if hands were eyes and eyes were hands
they would taste everything,
except perhaps that other side,
where nothing but invented backdrop lies
in stills and shots.
So I must turn you, wind you up, up
until like Salome you buck and dance!

Just as I do your pin snaps
and your bolts blow out -
and from this softer bed there launches hell.

Miss Mink, courtesy of Fleur De Guerre

'Wind Up' by Miss Mink

The fabulous Helen of Pin-Up Parade has generously published my pin-up poetry on her features page. While this showcases a selection of my earliest work, it’s much clearer to read and there’s a photo to accompany each poem.

Those featured are Young Female Spectator, Detective, LoveBomb and Her Diary.

There’s also a gallery brimming with lovely ladies in pin-up mode and various winking theatrical guises, including Fleur De Guerre, LouLou, Zoe Scarlett, Frauline Kitty and yes, yours truly! Plus galleries featuring some of the best pin-up industry photogs.

And while you’re browsing, don’t forget to click through to Helen’s online shop, selling swelligent 40s repro dresses and accessories!

Signing off,

Miss Mink x

Somewhere in between all that, I vaguely remember snatching her winning book of hauntingly etched flora and skipped around the Savile Club pouncing on elderly gents, flipping through each page and going “oooh isn’t she marvelous! Look at this one. And this one!” It’s true…she IS marvelous and I have no shame, but how articulately cool that I should end up sitting for her. Such a blessing!

Now, I’ve posed for photographers until my heels have snapped off; twisted my body into all sorts of unnatural ‘pin-up’ poses, but I’ve never sat for a true-blood artist with a C.V of revered shows under her leathery bohemian-belt.  And sit I did, for 6 long hours in absolute stillness, save for smoking,  all the while contemplating the iron-mettle of artist’s model Lizzie “Ophelia” Siddal in her bathtub endurance, yes, all this as Jessica sensitively etched me into her coppery firmament. The champagne and bar of Violet chocolate did help somewhat – all part of her plan to keep me sedated  – a sort of alcoholic straight-jacket that I happily obliged.

That evening, I managed to escape from her Portabello Dungeon of needles and inks, knowing she’d nurse my ‘imitation’ in acid for a couple of excruciating hours before rolling me under a press. After fretting about over-biting and failed impressions,  she triumphantly produced her final print one month later:

Reading Lucian

The ginormous book crushing my lap was the collected paintings of Lucian Freud. I was contemplating his first wife Kitty Garman, who attentively sat for him with symbolic roses, Fig leaves and a strange cat. The whole connection: our meeting, my sitting, our convoluted conversations and inevitably, reading Lucian, all led to my own interpretation of love, art and perspective. I’ve published my resulting poem, called Leaves, After Lucian Freud, so you can (hopefully) enjoy the cause and effect of this whole artistic process:

Leaves,  after Lucian Freud.

Read me the way you read Lucian’s art.

Say, here is a portrait of a girl. Distorted,

blanched. Stumble on colour, perspective,

light. Say you don’t get it, but want to try.

Forget about colour, perspective, light.

Look away from the world, then add…

the way he painted those leaves about her face,

you can tell how much he must have loved her.

JG has produced a limited run of 30 prints. If you are interested in purchasing one, I believe Jessica Greenman can be contacted through her publisher Faber and Faber at gapublicity@faber.co.uk

Image copyright Jessica Greenman 2010. Poem copyright Tiffany Anne Tondut 2010.