Steven Kenny

Biography

I began performing my poetry in August 2009 at the Tudor House in Wigan. Since then I have performed at the Tudor Open Mic nights many times, as well as performances at Word Soup in Preston, the Imploding Acoustic Inevitable Festival and The History Shop in Wigan. I was a founding member of 'The Secret Writers Club' - a writers group, now disbanded, based in Wigan town centre, aimed at encouraging new writers and developing existing ones. Our writers group hosted several successful events, including our opening gig and Wigan: The Soap Opera, a trip through our hometowns history using the mediums of poetry, prose and music. I also support The Talent Factory - a community arts organisation based in Wigan that facilitates workshops and projects in a whole range of creative arts. I have had work published in The Mental Virus magazine and a Poetry Rivals publication. Since then, I have gone on to complete a Creative Writing Degree as well as earned my Masters Degree in Creative Writing.

Samples

The girl and the lake She reflects upon the surface As the cold wet arms of the lake Take her in their deadly embrace. She feels the cold tendrils curl Around her calves, her thighs, her waist. The water pales her skin, It darkens her lips It shadows her clear, serene eyes, ecstatic in its aqueous grip. The darkness envelops her, the currents caress her as the lake takes her under; binds her in a fatal matrimony. A cold, waxen and bloated wife, torn from her former life. The lake is a jealous lover, needy and clasping and hungry. It pulls and it tugs; an insistent caress. The flow of the undertow balloons her white dress as the life finally flows from her eyes and bubbles rise from her throat carrying the last of her sighs. The lake is a jealous lover. Ennui He rolls another cigarette. Fingers, aged with time, And coloured yellow with excess, curl then smooth the paper. And eyes, dimmed with the years, Watch the world pass him by. He has no need to hurry. He watches Just watches As the souls dance before him Their decadent, self serving song Is no longer to his liking He sighs, breath stale and shallow like pages from a dusty book. His mouth could tell a thousand tales each one tall, each one hollow For what do the youth of today care Of the stories of yesterday? Instead he watches. Bitter? Perhaps a little, but what do you care? He watches as our world speeds by. Slowly, He rolls another cigarette.

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

Blog entries by Steven Kenny

Lost For Words (09/08/2013)

Tenebrous Attraction (09/08/2013)

Saviour? (09/08/2013)

Paying The Price (30/08/2012)

Temporum Vitae (30/08/2012)

Adrift (03/05/2012)

Vegas Vagrant (13/01/2012)

You in the gilded cage (09/11/2011)

All Saints (03/11/2011)

Washed Up (08/08/2011)

Read more entries by Steven Kenny…

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/stevenkenny