As part of the Tunbridge Wells Poetry Festival, I’ll be running an online workshop on mathematical forms in poetry on Tuesday 24th August, 10.00 – 12.00 BST. We’ll explore the creative possibilities of interweaving mathematical and poetic structures, including the visual impact of mathematical forms and how working with constraints can add depth and focus to your writing.

The emphasis in the workshop will be on readings and discussion, with an opportunity to do some writing as well if time allows.

More information and booking details are available on the Festival website: https://twpoetryfestival.com/further-events/workshops/from-fibs-to-fractals/. You’re also welcome to contact me if you have any questions, either through the Contact page or via Twitter: @marian_v_o.

The Poetry Festival will be taking place from 15th – 27th August, with a mix of in-person and online events. Wherever you are, do check out the full programme: it would be great to have participants from all around the world!

Sometime around 1550 BC an Egyptian scribe named Ahmes noted down a method for obtaining the area of a circle, in what is the earliest recorded attempt to evaluate the number we know as 𝜋. The history of 𝜋 (its symbol is the Greek letter pi) is fascinating, as are the many mathematical formulae for determining its value. It features in what is widely regarded as mathematics’ most beautiful expression, a perfect poem in itself, Euler’s identity 

‘Poetry is the mathematics of writing,’ John Steinbeck observed, ‘and closely kin to music.’ If we accept Steinbeck’s analogy, then Anthony Etherin’s The Utu Sonnets is the poetic equivalent of the purest of pure mathematics. In previous publications such as his 2019 collection Stray Arts (and Other Inventions) Etherin has proved himself a master of constrained writing, pushing the boundaries of form in tightly crafted palindromes, exact anagrams and dazzlingly inventive sonnets. The seven sonnets presented here are his most constrained work to date.

Sometime in the 4^th century BC, a Chinese astronomer named Shi Shen took it upon himself to map the stars visible in the night sky. The resulting work, containing some 800 stars, is generally considered to be the earliest star catalogue. Shi Shen’s achievements did not stop there; he also observed sunspots and wrote a number of astronomical and astrological treatises. In recognition of his contributions to astronomy, a crater on the far side of the moon has been named after him.

With my Eurocentric education I hadn’t heard of Shi Shen before reading A Celestial Crown of Sonnets, written by Sam Illingworth and Stephen Paul Wren. Each poem in this slim, beautifully produced volume focuses on an astronomer who made significant contributions to the advancement of our understanding of the universe. 

Chemistry is one of those subjects that largely passed me by at school. The chemistry labs had their own distinctive, slightly nausea-inducing smell, our lab coats were stained and shapeless, and the teaching was uninspired. While it was with relief that I abandoned the subject at the age of sixteen, I’ve always recognised that my limited knowledge of chemistry is a gaping hole in my scientific education.

I was therefore intrigued when I chanced across Mary Soon Lee’s collection Elemental Haiku, honouring ‘the periodic table/ three lines at a time’. Could I improve my understanding of chemistry through reading poetry? And how does one convey the essential attributes of an element in three lines totalling seventeen syllables? In her foreword, Lee explains her choice of form as well as her objectives: