Owen Sheers - Tuesday 22nd Febrary

We've a fantastic set of events lined up for the first half of 2011 (see our programme page for details), and our next event features award-winning poet, novelist and BBC 4 poetry presenter Owen Sheers.

Owen Sheers' first collection of poetry, The Blue Book (Seren, 2000) was short-listed for the Welsh Book of the Year and the Forward Prize Best 1st Collection 2001. His debut prose work The Dust Diaries (Faber 2004), was short-listed for the Royal Society of Literature’s Ondaatje Prize and won the Welsh Book of the Year 2005.

'Owen Sheers is one of the most exciting new talents around' Carol Ann Duffy

Owen’s first novel, Resistance (Faber, 2008) won a 2008 Hospital Club Creative Award and was short-listed for the Writers Guild Best Book Award. He recently wrote and presented the BBC 4 TV series A Poet's Guide to Britain, introducing and selecting the accompanying anthology (Penguin 2009), and his novella White Ravens (Seren, 2009) was published as part of Seren's 'New Stories from the Mabinogion' series. Owen has recently co-written the screenplay for the film of Resistance which is due to begin production in late 2010. He currently lives in London.

Sarah Crown of the Guardian applauds Owen Sheers' second book, Skirrid Hill, a collection that evokes ruptured terrain in taut and coherent verses, as 'A gorgeously elegiac volume…beguiling and brilliant'.

Owen Sheers' Website

Tuesday 22nd February, The Punter, Open Mic floor spots, books for sale. Doors 7.30pm Readings 8pm. Tickets on the door only, £4/£3.


Yesterday I found a photo
of you at seventeen,
holding a horse and smiling,
not yet my mother.
The tight riding hat hid your hair,
and your legs were still the long shins of a boy's.
You held the horse by the halter,
your hand a fist under its huge jaw.
The blown trees were still in the background
and the sky was grained by the old film stock,
but what caught me was your face,
which was mine.
And I thought, just for a second, that you were me.
But then I saw the woman's jacket,
nipped at the waist, the ballooned jodhpurs,
and of course the date, scratched in the corner.
All of which told me again,
that this was you at seventeen, holding a horse
and smiling, not yet my mother,
although I was clearly already your child.

Owen Sheers