I am delighted to be leading a poetry workshop on Tuesday 15th October,
11am to 12.30 pm, as part of this Elders Programme, created at Storyhouse
Chester. ...
Saturday 27 April 2019
And this morning...
And this morning I sit and savour Tom Duddy's poems yet again, their quiet resonance, their unassuming ability to reveal human truths, their delicate merging of cadence and meaning, and I yearn yet again for new poems by him that can never come, and I celebrate yet again the book in my hands that means I can still sit and savour Tom Duddy's poems...
Monday 22 April 2019
A poem in Coming and Going
I'm delighted to report that one of my poems, ’Dad on the M25 after midnight’, has been included in the new HappenStance anthology, Coming and Going. There'll be a more detailed post forthcoming once I get my hands on the copy that's anxiously waiting for me...
Monday 15 April 2019
Mark Antony Owen's Subruria
Self-publication has long been a thing. Even the likes of Walt Whitman did it. However, the advent of the internet has facilitated the process even more, and a trickle has become a deluge, a deluge that often feels more therapeutic than artistic.
In the context of the above, I was especially surprised to discover Mark Antony Owen's poetry. His work displays a surefooted sense of cadence, hard-acquired technical knowledge of metre and a deft knack for narrative layering, accessibility combining with depth. It's also self-published.
Owen's made a conscious decision not to submit to journals or publishers. Instead, he's developed his own online project, titled Subruria, and it's well worth a browse.
A key issue is whether this choice is liberating, whether it enables him to fly on his own terms, finding a new audience via the freedom of the internet, or whether it's denying him editorial input, critical approval and access to readers who find their poets through more traditional means. Either way, his poetry's excellent, and I'll be following the development of Subruria with a keen eye.
In the context of the above, I was especially surprised to discover Mark Antony Owen's poetry. His work displays a surefooted sense of cadence, hard-acquired technical knowledge of metre and a deft knack for narrative layering, accessibility combining with depth. It's also self-published.
Owen's made a conscious decision not to submit to journals or publishers. Instead, he's developed his own online project, titled Subruria, and it's well worth a browse.
A key issue is whether this choice is liberating, whether it enables him to fly on his own terms, finding a new audience via the freedom of the internet, or whether it's denying him editorial input, critical approval and access to readers who find their poets through more traditional means. Either way, his poetry's excellent, and I'll be following the development of Subruria with a keen eye.
Tuesday 2 April 2019
A slanted journey, Charlotte Gann's Noir
There’s a poetry that doesn’t tackle
difficult subjects head-on, preferring instead to seek out angles that might
lend new perspectives. It’s not cowardly for doing so. In fact, its risk-taking
is greater, as it doesn’t pulse out obvious messages. Instead, it prefers a far
more subtle, more powerful and longer-lasting approach to its awkward themes,
while also having to accept consequent critical misinterpretation will be
rife.
One such example is Charlotte Gann’s
Noir (HappenStance Press, 2016). The poet’s technique throughout this
collection is to invite her readers to compare and contrast, and to use these
reflections as a point of departure.
First off, there’s the title itself.
It evokes and invokes a niche of writing and of cinema in which what’s left
unsaid is often more significant than what is actually uttered. That niche,
meanwhile, just like these poems, plays on our own fears, phobias and hang-ups
via other peoples’ narratives.
The above, of course, are comparisons.
Nevertheless, Gann’s technique really changes gear once we home in on the
contrasts. Those afore-mentioned films and books are predominately written from
a male perspective. Her collection, however, often portrays events from a
female point of view, as in Love Poem:
…He buried this one years ago,
churchyard
down the lane. Thick ankled and
drunk she was.
Now she’s back, pupils huge in the
moonlight.
He licks dry lips, lamp at the
window.
Stabs his nib deep in the inkwell.
His new
young wife starts, cheeks paling,
eyes watering.
Pauses at her stitch, but does not
speak.
He’s taught her about interrupting.
This poem seems at first to describe
a typical Film Noir scene, but its exploration of the dark is actually an
exploration of gender roles. This man and woman are characters in an abusive
relationship. Gann subverts her readers’ expectations, bringing the piece to a
close with a shocking focus on the new young wife.
Throughout her collection, Charlotte
Gann never leads us down a specific empathetic path that’s clearly marked. She
doesn’t put emotions on display, while always ensuring she doesn't tell us what or how to feel. Her characters are allowed to act out their own stories because the poet trusts us to pick up the baton at that point. One such example is the ending to Corners:
...It's only after his late train pulls out,
and a passing friend, concerned, touches her
back gently, that she bends double on
the pavement outside the station, and cries out.
Noir is not a one-dimensioned homage to cinema, nor is it a relentless series of
similar scenes. It’s a textured, multi-layered, slanted journey through the
depths of human relationships, never savouring the dark but fearing its
connotations and consequences, seeking out a chink of light. If you don’t have
a copy, get one. If you have a copy, why not read it again and see whether you
agree with me…?
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