ZOOMING WITH THE 1000 MONKEYS IN JULY 2025

THE RETURN OF THE 1000 MONKEYS

We had to stop meeting and enjoying everyone's poetry for four months after February's get-together. Dónall became seriously ill at the end of February and it has taken four months for us to emerge from the resulting nightmare of hospitals and operations, It's still not over, but Dónall is well enough to write and to enjoy others' readings, so on Tuesday 1st July we decided we were ready to go back on Zoom, with the readers whom we'd had to disappoint in March. Only two couldn't make it, for different reasons 

We were so glad to be back — the kindness and talent of our poetry friends is such an inspiration to us! We had 14 readers and at least as many listeners. 

Dónall led off — setting a low bar, as he said. His poem about one of the most uncomfortable but funniest experiences he'd had in hospital, 'The Penis Whisperer'. It was a good start to an evening of fun and affection. We had three new readers: Jamie Hammond, Denni Turp and Gary Day, and some old friends returned whom we hadn't seen reading for a while, as well as other old friends who are regular readers. It was great to see among the listeners our dear friend Belinda Singleton, one of Guildford's most talented poets; Marek; Anne Alexander; Rod Whitworth and other excellent poets. 

Jamie Hammond's 'The Rosebush' was an imaginative ramble through surreal images, and his second poem, 'My Old Life' was a regretful account of changes wrought by 'progress' to the streets and corner shops he remembered from childhood, which we easily related to.

Judith Wozniak read from her recent collection, Making Dolmades in Essex, her memories of her late mother-in-law's account of her escape from Russian occupied Poland, and her feeling of always being an alien, were vivid. Judith followed up with one of her own memories from the collection: 'My summer job in Fulgini's ice-cream parlour' which made us smile.  

Peter Taylor had a lovely landscape poem: 'Things far and near' described rural fields bathed in autumn light. His daughter Helen read it beautifully on his behalf.

Claire Booker read 'The king we never had' from her collection A Pocketful of Chalk, and 'Whitsun Kids', a new poem in which we recognised the blend of irritation, exasperation and affection that we feel when we travel in a railway carriage full of high-spirited young people:  "We're just upholstery to them, something to bounce the joy off..."

Aaron Barschak raised the roof with his poem 'DONALL DON'T DIE!' — in his usual rousing, musical, alliterative, inventive style, studded with amazing puns and images. He named and famed Dónall and positively forbade him to succumb to death.  (Dónall has given in and admitted that he has to stay alive forever now!)

Daphne Milne read two poems from Behind Prim Suburban Walls, her winning pamphlet for the Brian Dempsey Memorial Competition (just published but not yet back from the printer.) The introductory poem, 'Retreat Road is slightly smug' introduces the characters that her collection gives us in this observant, at times ironic but kindly account of suburban life. 'All year round he walks' is a poem about one of the people she has celebrated there.

Mantz Yorke had two subtly political poems: 'Stamps' , a memory of his childhood collection of stamps from colonial countries('windows on the Empire') and 'Potatoes, Donegal' on the Irish potato famine.

Christine Vial read 'How to roll a joint on an album sleeve', a poem about 'Blue',  which she dedicated  to Dónall because it's his favourite Joni Mitchell album.

Gary Day's 'The Work of Hands' was a abut a lack of manual dexterity, and 'Sing a Song of Creation' was a canter through the history of the universe,

Denni Turp reminded us 'How September is one moment in a life,' And how when we were at school "where all had rubber legs" we were "all praised as good girls". The refrain of her second piece was, 'Repeat, Repeat'.

Ray Pool had a poignant story of his failed attempt to revive a cat, and 'A Tale of the Smallest Room', the account of the theft fron Blenheim Castle of a solid gold lavatory!

And finally, Jenna Plewes told us that there was 'No Turning Back'.

So we closed our meeting at 8:45pm, happy and entertained by friends and a potpourri of their high-quality poetry. Look out for our emails inviting you to read some of your poems, and to join as a listener if you want to meet us again. We'll be zooming  with The 1000 Monkeys again on Tuesday 5th August. 

See you soon when you can meet it --
Janice and Dónall