Paul Eccentric - AKA... - Presents

 
 
 
 

Events

Performers

Reviews

Services

Links

Contact

Home

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Francesca Beard

Francesca Beard was born in Malaysia and spent the 70's growing up in Penang, an idyllic island paradise. Since then, quite frankly, life has been down-hill all the way, but with occasional slow climbs... a bit like mowing a sloping lawn. After a spell in real jobs, she gave it all up to become a fictional character and now exists as a London-based poet, performing spoken word to lucky audiences all over Britain and the World. She is currently touring her one-woman show, ‘Chinese Whispers’, produced by Apples and Snakes. In May 2005, her first radio play, ‘The Healing Pool’ was broadcast on BBC Radio 4 and London Live. She is developing a new show, workng title, ‘London Tales’, supported by the Arts Council, England. 

Francesca gained experience and training through the Apples and Snakes programme PIE (Poets in Education) and has been working as a workshop facilitator in creative writing, poetry and performance since 1999. She runs one day workshops and masterclasses for all ages, as well as working on longer term projects with theatres and organisations, from the National’s ‘Transformation’ programme in East London primary schools to being writer in residence at the Metropolitan Police for ‘Emergency 999’. With the British Council Live Literature Department, she has run poetry workshops and masterclasses in Bulgaria, Azerbaijan, the Czech Republic and Russia. Later this year, she will be speaking about her work as a poet in education at conferences in Berlin and the Phillipines.
 

http://www.francescabeard.com/

Francesca Beard on Twitter

Two Grains Of Sand
Tuesday, June 23, 2009, 01:18 AM
We went out together a while ago, when he was a painter and I was a mess. It lasted a few years. I remember the first time I saw him - it was in some bar and I had been about to leave when this angel walked in. At the least, I'd never seen anything more worthy of a belief in God. He paused under a spotlight, or at least it seemed so and I went up and told him my name as if he'd been waiting to hear it. 

It was the best and then the worst of times. Replayable Lo-light: Curling up to sleep in a fire. 

He was someone it was worth being a real person for - problematically, this wasn't in my remit, so I did some d.i.y 

The dust-fall was so messy it took me a good nine months to realise he'd gone, but by then, I was a charred nerveless freak, so it was for the best. 

Every night, for nine months, I'd lie, whiskey-soused, on the communal lawn of an old people's sheltered apartment in Salisbury mumbling at the semi-precious stars. It was there that I started writing poetry. 

I remember thinking that maybe one day he'd have a child and I'd have a child and one day they'd meet and feel an irresistible connection to each other and fall in love and make it work. 

At some point, later, we started a band together. Music is a healing thing, though our alt-pop/folk-hop music really really pissed some people off. Anyway, it requited all that love without wrecking anything important. 

Music has always had my vote as the most blessed artform. 

He's married now, to a beautiful woman, inside and out. They have two sons. I'm with someone who possibly deserves me and is no better than he ought to be. We have two daughters. 

His sons are already quite cultured and play musical instruments, even the baby, while my girls are into Batman and even the baby can name-check all the Ninja Turtles. So if they do get together, it'll be carnage.
 
 
 
     
 
 
Copyright for all works on this site rests with the individual poets. 
All poets using this service must ensure that they wholly own the copyrights for their works 
as rrrants.co.uk takes no responsibility for copyright infringements!