Videos from our stop at Pontypridd, at Storyville Books.
Thanks to Jeff for hosting (and excellent cakes…)
Captioned versions ( in English) will be shared on social media as we finish them, but here’s the whole thing in the raw, featuring Siôn Aled, Des Mannay, Jeremy Dixon, Nicholas McGaughey, Stephen Payne, clare e potter and the work of Sian Northey and Ness Owen read by Cherry Potts and Siôn Aled
Final videos of the launch of Mamiaith by Ness Owen, held at Canolfan Ucheldre in Holyhead.
Ness reads a pair of political poems in her second set – a bit of history, and a brilliant metaphor for the silencing of women, in Welsh and English.
and some of the musical interlude from Caine and ‘Caine’s dad’-
You can buy Mamiaith direct from our webshop or ask your local bookshop to stock it!
Caine and Aled Jones-Williams perform Titrwm Tatrwm, an ancient Ynys Môn folk song.
Videos of the launch of Mamiaith by Ness Owen, held at Canolfan Ucheldre in Holyhead.
Ness reads a couple of more personal poems in her second set – her grandmother cooking, and her auntie’s feet!
You can buy Mamiaith direct from our webshop or ask your local bookshop to stock it!
Videos of the launch of Mamiaith by Ness Owen, held at Canolfan Ucheldre in Holyhead.
This is where Ness’s friends got involved, reading some of the poems on Ness’s behalf…
Karen Ankers and Eabhan Ni Shuileabhain read #10 ways to say No (to Radioactive Mud)
Fiona Owen reads Laboon
Eabhan Ni Shuileabhain reads March
Anne Phillips reads One Name – Cymru
many thanks to all for getting involved.
You can buy Mamiaith direct from our webshop or ask your local bookshop to stock it!
First of the videos from the launch of Mamiaith at Canolfan Ucheldre in Holyhead.
On the night the Eisteddfod packed up early because the weather was so bad, the hardy folk of Ynys Môn shrugged on their coats, and very possibly sou’westers and wellies, and came out to celebrate Ness Owen’s lovely book.
I don’t normally include my wittering on in the videos, but there were some important things to report in this introduction, so it’s included.
And here’s author Ness Owen reading her title poem, Mamiaith.
It’s St David’s Day, so let’s celebrate our Welsh/Wales-based writers
Jeremy Dixon (In Retail, Liberty Tales, The Other Side of Sleep)
Nicholas McGaughey (Dusk, An Outbreak of Peace, Noon, Story Cities)
Karen Ankers (Noon)
Gareth Culshaw (Noon)
Diana Powell (Noon)
Ness Owen (Mamiaith, An Outbreak of Peace, Noon, Dusk, Shortest Day Longest Night)
We are publishing Ness Owen’s first collection of poems, Mamiaith on 8th August.
The Title means Mother Tongue and the collection is partially bilingual, because when the manuscript arrived, and there were several poems about the Welsh language, my first question was, why aren’t these in Welsh?
Ness is of an age that she was not taught in Welsh in school but in English, so that Welsh was effectively taught as a foreign language. Although she is a native speaker, she is unconfident of the fine detail fo writing in Welsh. After some discussion we agreed that if she could find someone to help, at least some of the poems should be in both languages.
That help was supplied by Sian Northey in the main, but also Iona Evans.
Mamiaith
Pwy wnaeth ddwyn y geiriau
o geg fy mam a’u taflu yn
ôl ataf mewn darnau sy’n
disgyn i’w lle yn fy mhen ond
yn gwrthod disgyn ar bapur?
Fel perthynas annisgwyl, yn dal
ag ogla capal, yn twt-twtio yn
fy nghlust, ysgwyd ei phen
a thrio fy neud yn ddiarth i fy
eitifeddiaeth.
Wyrion y ‘Not’ pryd nawn ni
dorri’r cortyn? Sut nawn ni
ddweud ein stori yn yr iaith fain?
Yn baglu ac ymddiheuro
dan ni’n anadlu Mamiaith
yn barod am chwyldro
ond yn gwybod y bydd ein
hysgrifen yn ein bradychu.
Mamiaith
Stolen from my mother’s
mouth, thrown back to me
in pieces that fit so neatly
inside my head but will
not fall onto the page.
Like an uninvited relation
still smelling of chapel
she tuts in my ear, shakes
her head, tries to make
me a stranger to what’s
already mine.
Grandchildren of the Not
When will we break the chord?
How do we tell our story in
a thin language? Tongue-tied
excusing our way through
we breath in Mamiaith
waiting to be unearthed
always knowing our
pen will betray us.
