Creative Writing Society

A couple of weeks ago The Societies Show on Fuse FM caught up with Jonny Heath to find out about the Manchester Creative Writing Society. Aside from the interview, we were treated to examples of members’ writings and a song or two from Jonny himself. There is much to be excited about from this little group. The society welcomes students, whether already an avid scribbler or just curious about what’s going on, to come along to meetings to share, listen and enjoy each other’s work.

All information as to when the meetings take place are detailed on the Manchester Creative Writing Facebook group, where the description encourages attendance from people who are interested in “any kind of writing, be it prose, poetry, plays, stream of consciousness or erotica.” A collaboration with other creative events as well as a potential eventual publication are all in the pipeline for the group.

The essence of the group is informal and fun, and it’s a great society for anyone who has wanted to give writing a go but has not had the opportunity to do so. Judgements are left at the door so if you fancy getting involved, don’t hesitate to drop Chair Jonny Heath. Here are a couple of tasters from the group so far:
Define a ‘kiss’ by Joe Goodman

How many moments plucked?
pucked, touched, fucked.
Find the strength to define,
when lips align, a kiss.
Father son, does that disgust you?
Wife husband, does it hurt you?
This moment we use,
choose to abuse,
clutch in our dreams
and use as a means
to sacred time? A seal of love?
No stolen, polluted, an oil caked dove.
Give me a reason
I’ll stab the whore,
then kiss her cold hand
and waltz out the door.
Onto another’s love in disguise,
into the legs of stripping eyes,
to pound romance with a volley of lies
and a dove falls to earth as the ‘kiss’ dies.

Untitled by Phoebe Georgia Allan

I can go from blissed to pissed quicker than a spinning disk.
My mind flies high in the in the skies of unity,
Representing everything it should be;
freedom, sympathy and tranquillity.
Pure, A-zure.
I have days when I’m even happy to be sad,
A negative thought or sentiment I choose to dismiss,
Laugh it gone and blow it a kiss.
A great and beautiful sense of release- power, belief
and then my soma levels rapidly increase,
as I dance with the gods, our spirits purified , our bodies energised, and we whisper;
‘Now what may foeman’s malice do to harm us? What, O Immortal, mortal man’s deception’
Lib-er-at-ion
My body is tinkling
My flesh, bones soul and mind intertwined
Care free, happy as can be,
Then.
I change it up a key,
Shunning all that I preached,
Let out, lock out, and let go of every pebble of peace in my mind’s beach.
Like I’ve given birth to a beast.
Now, nothing makes sense hence
I behave like a slave to the witches’ trade
Casting spells of bad smells and I’m thinking
‘STOP!’
No more potions for these feeble motions,
A conversation with my own desperation,
‘please, take me back to the paradise of my creation,
where celebratory elation is a necessary condition of human composition.’