20 June 2021

Poetry at the Oasis - pink sequinned bowler hat with label saying poetry in motion

Poetry at the Oasis
So yesterday’s rally organised by the Save Oasis Swindon campaign, produced two perfectly poetic outpourings.

The first one I’ll mention is from the pen of Swindon community poet Tony Hillier – that’s his hat you see above. Tony did a fantastic job at the event whipping us all into shape! It was down to him that, in no small part, the whole thing was the success that it turned out to be. His energy and enthusiasm are infectious – and Lord only knows where he finds it all! Anyway – here is Tony’s Oasis-related orating:

SOS Domebusters

Slip inside the eye of your mind
Don’t look back in anger

Look forward with fight

Start a Revolution from your bed
Write the Adver, get it said
Renard, take that look from off your face
Council sham a big disgrace

Slip inside the eye of your mind
Imagine again children slipping down that slide
Face piles of trials with smiles 
Don’t look back in anger
Look forward with fight

Tony Hillier, Swindon’s Community Poet at Oasis Protest 19 2021 poemogram@hotmail.com

See more of Tony Hillier here:

Now we come to Owen Collins from Witney for more poetry at the Oasis.

Owen is a performance poet with long and fond memories of the Oasis. He follows the campaign on Twitter and drove across to the rally yesterday to perform his poem.


Come with me, here, to Swindon Oasis,
The last survivor of those long-lost places
Of the glory days of the middle of last century,
Where memories were made, and which now, are only memories.
Built from aspiration, centre of leisure,
A dome full of dreams, a palace of pleasure,
A steamy lagoon, a racquet sports hall,
A place to unwind that was open to all.

It’s where parties were held, where affections were forged,
Where you could stay for hours and never get bored,
Cover over your wristband for an extra few minutes,
Not ready to leave, still transfixed within its Ancient Egyptian, tropical themes
Where we’d swim amongst palm trees, and splash, slide and dream,
Or on a brave day, ride the Great White, and scream
Or just bob along on the crest of a wave machine.

It’s where we corkscrewed beneath the monsoon precipitation.
It’s where two lads from Manchester found Inspiral inspiration,
It’s where Madness topped the bill, It’s where Morrissey took ill,
It’s where people came to hear the music, and could come to hear it still.
So, listen to the echo of all of those tunes
And climb the tower to the top of the flumes,
Watch these winding pipes, through which we would race
Hold this whole place in their embrace
And weave throughout the Swindon sky
To swell the heart and draw the eye
Over magic rounds and County Grounds
And the swirling smoke of Brunel’s ghosts
To then, and there, and here, and now.

And then look down, as if from heaven,
To this iconic dome, this home and haven,
This sceptred pool, this shimmering jewel,
This escape, this greatness,
This perfect Oasis.

And here is Owen at the event performing his poem:

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