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Introduction: I Am The Magpie

I have listened to thousands of stories And millions of words. I have observed

The creation of worlds

With the power of memory Of history Of the mind. And I want to find A thousand more

So I soar Across Northern skies

Looking for something to catch my eyes, A shiny gem And then I’ll settle down and listen again

Who tells your story?

Both grim and gory And filled with glory. Magic and beauty, Structure and duty

Messy and madness

I feel I must ask this:

Lend me your words And I’ll tell tales of you And all you would do And everyone who Said wonderful things

Lend me your words and bring Me your moments in time.

Let me spin a rhyme Of those train talkers And riverside walkers And ‘only got a minute’ but stays all day Those who think they have nothing to say.

I promise to honour those conversations

Treat every situation That you spoke of with care And with honesty

We’ll look back on each victory And grin

So let the stories begin

I’m a HomeBird

I am a home Bird

A never-fly-alone Bird

A flock made up of friends Bird

A voice that can pretend Bird

Singing tunes from every breed Bird

I’m a full-family-to-feed Bird

With fledglings in the nest Bird

I’m a doing-my-best Bird

Wear my colours in the sun Bird

They don’t think of me as a fun Bird

I’m a future telling rhyme Bird

Singing my songs all the time Bird

One for sorrow, two for mirth Bird

A three funeral and four birth Bird

I’m a hoarding shiny things Bird

A stay near but still take wing Bird

A local legend gliding Bird

A loud voice there’s no hiding Bird

Because this is where I’m known Bird

I think I am a home Bird.

Welcome to Newcastle

If I drew you a map of my home, there wouldn’t be street names

Because I never really paid attention while playing games With half decent friends I don’t spend time with anymore But those days are the ones that I adore.

I’d welcome you with memories And connections to place But no directions to place I’d have to take you on a wander

While I ponder On the postcodes

Of all the buildings that I know But could never label. Instead, I’d be able To tell you about where I was made And the trees that my brothers played In while I anxiously read To myself instead.

So I’ll welcome you to Newcastle

Welcome to the feeling of coming home

Where the riverside is overgrown With buddleia

Throughout the summer, That smell will always take me back With each pollen attack. Welcome to the moments so heavy, Having talks when you’re ready About the serious things

Watching the zip line swings Over the Tyne

I can welcome you to Byker, but I know it by hues By the reds, green and blues

And not by titles and street signs I know it by the graffiti designs

Scrawled in haste While being chased Away by the adults.

I can welcome you to Gosforth by its flavours

And the behaviour Of spices on my tongue With food genres for everyone.

Welcome to Newcastle! Be guided by the way it feels To walk by the fisherman when he reels A big one in at the Quayside And then decide Where you’re off to next By what feels best When you look up this street and that, Follow your nose to where the best scan is at. Get to know it the way that I did, Look at this place like a kid

There’s no street names, no titles or signs, Crawl outside of the lines

Explore and find Something new You’re in Newcastle, And she welcomes you.

Northern Girls

Let’s raise our glasses

To the North and her Lasses!

The stereotypes, sleeveless and loud

Whose confidence makes me so proud; And the outliers

Starting fires

With their quiet powers, Those precious flowers

All with the strength only Northern girls can hold Against the cold

Of the coastal wind up Tees, Tyne and Wear

Northern girls, you are so dear;

From your goosebumped arms on a Friday night

To your infectious laughter and unstoppable fight.

Our girls, our lasses, Our sisters and NaNas and Mams, The precious lambs

And ferocious lions, head of the Pride

Let our contradictions collide:

Library lovers at the book club

Extraverts at the nightclub

Overworkers

Half-day shirkers

You’re all so vibrant, that’s what you are, A guiding light North Girls North Star

Feel My Words

I never met a Geordie Who didn’t have a story; Who didn’t have words to share Or phrases of care And comfort at the metro platform

I’ve never met a Geordi That didn’t have warm Ways of talking When walking With strangers; especially when those strangers are lost In the frost Of Northern Streets.

I’ve never met a Geordie that didn’t meet My tone With kindness when I was alone In unfamiliar places, Strong accents from local faces.

I remember scurrying through Bigg Market trying to get to My first concert without anyone with me And all it took was one Geordie To put me at ease on the way to the O2 Everytime someone asked me: ‘is there anyone with you?’

They were making sure that I was safe.

The words of Geordie are not ones of grace But of power and kindness and thought. I think all of these Geordies ought To have a collective noun for their voices….

A chorus of Geordies, A movements, a story

A radge, a flock

An accent, a shock

A hoard, a stottie! That’s the one that got me

A laugh, a keel

A greggs, a railway wheel

A Tyne or a Rocket? No, I think that I’ve got it!

Those Georidies who gather With voices together That geet load, collective Who are both loud and protective Whose words hold onto feeling Without any concealin , Their noun, let it be known Should be: A Home

A Home of Geordies And I love their stories

Finger Prints in Sydney (A Place Called Home)

We’ve got fingerprints in Sydney And ice cream from Italy

Up the hill, there’s bubble tea

A thousand cultures in one city!

Dorman long Made steel so strong That it’s bridges make connections In every direction Of this globe And I know The impact of local hands can be felt When the steel is dealt Out to Egypt and Sudan, Our engineering minds can Make a difference from Denmark and Zimbabwe To the Opera House in Sydney

Giovanni Marcantonio Is name that you should know He started out in Picinisco But in 1892 he’d go Out onto the sea, sons in tow In hopes of better lives to grow

When arriving in England And making their way inland They got tickets, looking for anywhere And Newcastle was as far as their fare Would take them They sold Ice Cream from a handcart But Geordies fell in love with the art Of gelato,

So Marcantonio

Made a home in Grainger market, now also on Percy Street A global heritage found in the things that we eat.

The pattern keeps going, This city is ever growing. From Venezuela to the Quayside Another family decide To bring cuisine culture to the North East With empanadas and treats From delicious churro making feats.

My friends get a drink when we meet Up together on Stowell street. This Taiwanese Traditional bubble tea Is a place that we Can all sit and see Our cultures blend and be So wonderfully And beautifully Embedded into our city.

We’ve got ancient structures, and new people everyday, I look around at Newcastle and am proud to say:

We’ve got fingerprints in Sydney And ice cream from Italy

Up the hill, there’s bubble tea

A thousand cultures in one city!

The Rat Bush

It’s 3am

And we’re out again

I’m ready for bed

But they want take away instead.

I’m a guest in their home

So if they want to roam

Then you know I’ll be part of the crowd

We feel so loud

In the quiet of the dampened streets

Seeking nuggets to eat

I’m sober, they’re not

So it takes all the strength I’ve got

To hold us all together, walk a straight line

With these friends of mine

But there is danger to the dark

As we wander the car park

Nearly empty, bar the litter and bushes; That’s when one of us shushes

The rest,

Suddenly distressed

“Do you hear it?”

It’s quite clear it

Was coming from under the leaves, Spiked hedges underneath a tree.

We get into a huddle

Our thoughts all a muddle

As hissing breaks the silence we had made.

Oh what a dangerous game we played

To walk the path this late

In such a state

Knowing the Rat Bush was on the way.

Their eyes came to the surface

Now we’re thinking how we deserve this Haunted by our sins

As the dread begins

To settle in

To our shuddering skin

The Rat Bush is a hive mind

The only one of its kind, It could choose to eat us It would certainly defeat us

6 drunken teens and a designated driver, There would be no survivors.

Oh, what a tragedy

All for a fluffy ice cream treat…

The scurrying has started And believing we’ll become departed We all run in different directions

It can’t chase us all!

We’ve made that connection, But the Rat Bush somehow looms like a giant And physics defiant

It’s tangle of tails Prevails

And we are surrounded

But then, our guardian of the sky

Gives a cackling cry!

Magpie!

Awake for the dawn, darting down

To those daemons on the ground

Rats are scattered, the bush is no more Discarded leaves evidence on the floor.

We get our treats

But decide that the streets Are best left to the Rats when 3am calls

A cautionary tale for one and all.

The Witches

I first learned about our witches from an escape room

I learned that their tomb Lay Metres away In unmarked graves Near the Church of St Andrews.

Next time you pass, can you Take a moment to nod or whisper in respect? I wish to protect Their memories

Paid per prosecution No wonder they faced persecution At a generals hands, 14 women and 1 man Condemned Back then In 1650

Led from the gallows we now shop in There was no stopping The horrific spectacle after the test Not one of them confessed Innocent till the last Judgement has passed By a purposely faulty pricking needle Designed to show they do not bleed Like you and me.

The Witches, who were never Witches The People, who were always People.

Let’s remember them today With the names no stone will say:

Matthew Bulmer, Elizabeth Anderson, Jane Hunter, Mary Potts, Alice Hume, Elianor Rogerson, Margaret Muffit, Margaret Maddison, Elizabeth Brown, Margaret Brown, Jane Copeland, Ann Watson, Elianor Henderson, Elizabeth Dobson and Katherine Coultor

I Am A Child - A Treehouse Collaboration

I am a Dinosaur! Listen to my roar As I look for Prehistoric Pizza With a piece-a Mushroom! I don’t have much room For more because I am FULL!

Full of colours, every kind

I look for a rainbow outside and find Hello Yellow and Green Grass And Blue-ish clouds floating past!

I am Wednesday And Garfield And Puss-In-Boots I am a train driver, listen to the toot. I am a small monkey-gorilla and a gang of peacocks fanning our feathers And running through the world together

I am Strong Amazing Powerful Noisy! Sometimes, I am angry when my brother annoys me, But I can jump and dance and linger in doorways. I can walk sideways Like a crab!

Now I will grab Another pizza slice Because it tastes so nice

I will trace the lyrics and sing them too. I am a child, and so are you

We WILL

This is the space for your story. Tell us who you are

I Am…

I Can

I Will…

Two Pence in the Tyne

Archeologists dig to find

Pieces that people left behind Objects but not that alone, it’s Heritage, pieces are moments Moments are experience, the ultimate truth Archaeologists are digging for proof Proof of a moment

To own it and know it and show it In theories and queries.

Thousands of years on When the original memories are long gone, They slowly uncover, Excitedly discover Pennies in the old Tyne river bed They’ll make assumptions instead Of knowing why My friends, family and I

Threw so many Pennies

Into the Tyne, Consumed by the northern brine:

Was it for Gods? Ritual in nature? Probably worshipping behaviour, That is what they always claim When they cannot name

A definitive reason. But believing in River Gods Is not quite our style. We threw pennies after walking miles Because we wanted to know How far they would go We wanted to see How deep they would be Implanted underground And we found That they disappeared One after another.

I hand a two pence to my brother, It twists in the air after a simple flick

And falls straight down into the thick All consuming Tyneside floor

We don’t need any reason more Than northern curiosity Which we pursue with ferocity In the waters that sustain us.

Those moments, they remain us; Discovered in archeology When we become human history

If You Are What You Eat

If you are what you eat, then I am delicious

Maybe not so nutritious

But trust me, I am a beauty And just a little bit fruity

If you are what you eat, then I am culture Containing a heritage of Sly Cakes And Steak Bakes And Lemon Tops And Prawn Pots

With a sprinkling of North Sea Salt and Sands

If you are what you eat, then I think it stands To reason that I am completely Northern

Because I take in more than My fair share of every local delicacy, There’s Singing Hinnies inside of me

So if you are what you eat, then music flows through my veins On my plate no crumb remains As I slowly change Into a Northumberland classic With jam and cream, I am fantastic!

If you are what you eat, then I’m a propper hottie

Because I’m made from a pease pudding filled stottie

You couldn’t find these wonders in any other place, If you are what you eat, then I will embrace The Tyne, Wear and Tees

That is living in me

The Granger Market treats

And the historic feats

Of food engineering that built our home

I am proper lush scran right to the bone

If you are what you eat, then I am so tasty

Because it’s the food of that North that has made me

Northern Lights of Greggs

Use the lights to guide you as you go

In summer, winter, rain or snow

You can put your trust into the glow Of Newcastle's Northern lights…

Whether you’re in need of a sausage roll; Or if that egg and bacon bap is your goal

Desperate for coffee

Or a good cuppa tea. For options: your have thirty three Lights to choose from

So go on

Our great pilgrimage, like our ancestors before.

Take the walk, that enriching tour

From where it all started in Gosforth And go forth

On your spiritual quest

In search of the best

Vegan steak bake,

Enough pastry to make your belly quake

Then on to Walker, soon Jesmond, Kenton next, Town Moor and beyond!

Till you reach the city, finally at Grainger And though your intestines might be in danger

After thirty three pastries, You know that you can out last these Challenges.

Trace the Northern Lights when days get dark

What a journey to embark on.

Each Greggs, a star in our constellation Wander the path, follow the shape

That only our Northern Lights can create.

I Love You - A Community Poem

I heard you. I heard you in accents, Strong and mild.

I heard you in the wild Cries at the finishing line Of people running by the Tyne For charity Or memory Of loved ones Gone But never forgotten or lost

I heard you in the ferry, tossed By the briney waves Waving you on your way

To another adventure

I saw you.

I saw you in the colours Rainbows raised for each other And the shine of a Magpies feathers

Whenever

The weather

Decided to send a ray On a cloudless day

I saw you in acts of kindness That remind us

That to be Northern is not to be born here

It is to be dear

To everyone you find Northern is a state of mind

I felt you

I felt you when I cried on the Metro

And you didn’t let me go

Until you were sure I was safe

I felt you in the bricks of this place

The archaic face

The fingerprints, the past That outlasts

Even the darkest of days I feel you always

I felt you in your words, your tales Voices raising with the sails On the mouth of the Tyne.

Newcastle you are mine

And hers And his And theirs.

I find you everywhere I hear you I see you I feel you

And finally I love you

Thank you

Feel My Words - A NOVUM poetry Pamphlet by Lizzie Lovejoy

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