AS a judo champion, Owen Lowery became used to performing in front of audiences.

Now his performances consist of, not sport, but poetry on a range of subjects — from the horrors of war to heartfelt words about beloved wife Jayne.

Owen, who is paralysed from the shoulders down, is bringing his work to the Octagon Theatre, Bolton, for a Literature Live event on Tuesday, February 10.

He was just 18 when an accident in the judo ring, during a charity tournament, left him tetraplegic and needing a ventilator to breathe.

He said: "I don't get nervous before a reading.

"No-one is trying to stop you doing what you are doing.

"No-one is cheering for the other person."

While Owen has had a passion for poetry since he was just a child, it was about six years ago when he turned his attention to it seriously.

He studied for a degree with the Open University, then a Master of Arts (MA) in Military Studies, followed by an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Bolton.

He is currently researching a PhD at the university, which he hopes to finish this year, concentrating on the poetry of Keith Douglas — a soldier who was killed in action during the Second World War, at the age of 24.

Owen said: "I have always had a strong interest in poetry and Keith Douglas wrote in a way that was quite detached from the events.

"He wrote in a very objective way about very difficult subjects."

Last month, Owen's second book was published — Rego Retold — featuring a series of poems responding to the work of Turner Prize nominee Dame Paula Rego, one of Europe's most sought after fine artists.

Owen said: "I write poems on just about everything. I will probably write one about today."

He writes a poem a day for his wife Jayne and penned one, as well as a song, for their Lake District wedding in 2013.

He was also inspired to write a poem about former Bolton Wanderers footballer Fabrice Muamba, on his return to the Reebok Stadium in May 2012, following his cardiac arrest on the pitch earlier that year.

Speaking of next week's show, which will also feature Manchester-based novelist Zahid Hussain, Owen said: "We are going to be combining my readings with some film and we have had the films made for each of the poems.

"We have got a musical score that goes underneath the poems.

"It's going to be a fully immersive experience for the audience.

"I think that appeals because it allows the poems to be interpreted in a different way.

"It allows the audience fresh perspective."

It is thanks to an Arts Council grant and support from Regain Sports Charity that Owen has been able to bring his work to the stage but he believes poetry was always a path he would have followed.

Owen, who writes using an adapted computer and headset, said: "The immediate aftermath of the accident, it was taking things really gradually — concentrating on the next day and the next person coming in.

"I think that approach is what I have adopted all the way through, a process of living for the moment — finding things to do with your time. Studying is a massive part of that.

"Maybe I would've been writing about different things.

"I think eventually I would've ended up in that direction."

Octagon Theatre Bolton and the University of Bolton present Literature Live: Owen Lowery and Zahid Hussain on Tuesday, February 10 at 7pm. Tickets cost £5/ £2 student concession.

Fabrice Muamba returns

(Reebok Stadium, Bolton, 2 May 2012)

Ushered through before they could run our tickets

past the robot eyes on the wall. The speaker

rises, finding concrete to bounce the waited

moment against, lifts

forty-seven days from the dark. We make it

just in time to share in that smile the cameras

love the bones of, hands we can see suspended,

waving to forests

crowds, applauding, finding his name returning

to him carried home on the waves. His wife claps,

catching tears among the elect. A knuckle

rubs at the corners

of his eyes. For minutes on end it’s not real

time. He’s lost some weight, as expected maybe,

given what he’s been to and back, but still stands

there in the floodlights

carving every beaming expression. Medics

shake his hand, and he, in his turn, embraces

each of theirs. A flurry of words. Also shared

knowledge of how close

darkness came to being complete. The bare facts:

seventy-eight minutes without a heart, players

praying, no-one sure of their bodies, mean what,

now we can see him

blinking every second a little more true,

now your face is tumbling as well? A mascot

folds him deep in paws. He ascends the grey steps,

sits at his wife’s side.