Bob Hill

Biography

Bob Hill is a poet, writer and educator. Bob is the creator and co-host of the Poetry On The Spot improv events, the promoter and compere of Beatnik Boulevard and is the creative director behind The Mighty Pen writing workshops. Bob has led writing workshops in primary and secondary schools, retirement homes, businesses, museums, art galleries, libraries, a haunted house, a Neolithic Henge monument and in a 1940s Airstream trailer. Author of two collections of poetry (By the Wall Press) and published in various magazines and journals Bob is a graduate and post-graduate from Bournemouth, Portsmouth, Oxford and Winchester Universities where he has read for Bachelor and higher degrees in Archaeology, Education and Creative and Critical Writing. Currently Bob is the Blogger in Residence for the By-the-Sea Arts Hub and Creative Space in Bournemouth, a poetry tutor for Creative Thoughts at the National Trust property of Kingston Lacey and workshop leader for the Bicester Writing Group. Bob is also the creative writing tutor at The Mill Arts Centre in Banbury and the former Leader for the Writing Squads in Bournemouth and Poole. He has performed at the Edinburgh Fringe, the Bournemouth Arts by the Sea Festival, Wimborne Literary Festival, The Tolpuddle Festival, The Ejector Seat Festival, Purbeck Folk Festival and The Winchester Poetry Festival Fringe. Bob has a particular interest in working with seniors and elders in helping them to tell their own stories and is working on the 1945 project. Bob has also written specially commissioned poems for weddings, anniversaries and other special and sensitive occasions. To contact Bob for performance, commissions and writing workshop bookings please do so by emailing the.mightypen@hotmail.com

Samples

Out Damn Spot By Bob Hill The changing geography of my face has its constant and shifting visitor. Camping on various ridges and furrows, juxtaposition defining its name for that day. Bang in the middle of my forehead it is Cyclops. Over one eye it’s a unicorn. On the end of my nose it’s a Rudolph. It’s part of me: a singular signal of puberty and hair in funny places, a despoiler of perfect skin, a disfigurer of faces. Out damn spot, you temple dwelling volcano, you bulls eye for banter that’s spitefully clever and prosaic about the mosaic of saplings planted over my lower cranium, sometimes joined by allies to form an acne stadium. Trace them dot-to-dot and you could draw a stellar constellation. The dreaded blackheads come along for the ride, advertised face wash chemicals about as effective as Cnut and his tide. And when the all clear is sounded and my face no longer looks like Moon Base Alpha, you sneak up at lunchtime or somewhere soon after to announce your hormone and chips inspired arrival and show off your strength of survival. Just as I’m about to ask Rachel Burdon to go out with me you appear with a timing that’s just uncanny; shattering my fragile confidence with cruel intention you truly are the most effective form of teenage contraception. You wait spot, until we get home. You’ve sealed your fate, you have a date with the bathroom mirror. Goodbye my nemesis, until tomorrow. © Robert Hill 2011

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.