A poem by Tristan Moss

Today’s featured poem is by Tristan Moss, taken from his new pamphlet, The Cold War (Lapwing Publications, 2022).

By approaching its devastating subject matter aslant via an extended metaphor, this poem is packed with implicit questions. Therein lies its power, wondering, for example, how we verbalise our reactions to death and grief. And then it ponders what type of driver we are. Or what type of mourner…

MY DAD’S DEATH

a van
speeding down the motorway,
backdoors flailing
boxes falling out.
Some drivers keeping their distance,
others trying to get by,
or some like myself
picking up what’s been left behind.

(Previously published in issue 203 of Snakeskin)

My review of Stewart Sanderson's The Sleep Road on Wild Court

My review of Stewart Sanderson's first full collection, The Sleep Road (Tapsalterie, 2022)) is now up at Wild Court. In both individual and collective terms, The Sleep Road is a significant collection. You can read my review via this link.

My second full collection

Massive news for me: HappenStance Press will publish my second full collection in November 2023. I’m delighted/chuffed/overjoyed, etc, etc, to have the chance to work again with Helena Nelson, one of the best editors around.

What’s more, HappenStance books are gorgeous objects in themselves. Now to keep chipping away at my ms, only sixteen months to go…!

Poetry Birmingham Issue 8

I'm pleased to report that I've got two new poems in the forthcoming issue of Poetry Birmingham. What's more, they're in excellent company...

My article on Ben Wilkinson's poetry

My article on Ben Wilkinson's poetry is now up at The Friday Poem, tracing his development from his first pamphlet through to his second full collection, Same Difference (Seren Books, 2022). Here's a small taster...

...Same Difference sees Wilkinson concluding a process that began with The Sparks, resolving the co-existence of accessibility and erudition in his poetry, and employing a coherent and cogent method that combines allusion and directness of speech. By resolving these potential clashes and making them work in synch he’s already generated an approach that’s highly unusual in the context of contemporary UK poetry... 

You can read it in full by clicking on this link.

Job, hobby or vocation?

How would you describe poetry’s role in your life? As a job, a hobby or a vocation?

For me, it’s definitely not a job. However, the fact I don’t use poetry as a means to generating my primary source of income doesn’t mean it’s any less important to me, nor does it mean my own poems are any worse (or better!) than stuff by people who do. Moreover, in my own personal case, viewing poetry as a job would kill off my capacity to write. This is because poems are ring-fenced in my mind as one of the few parts of my life in which I can do as I please without worrying about the fallout!

But then the term ‘hobby’ makes my hackles rise immediately. It insinuates I might be playing at being a poet, categorising my writing alongside stamp collecting or trainspotting. And it also gives the impression that poetry plays a secondary role in my life, which isn’t true.

And what about ‘vocation’? There’s a concern it might sound pretentious or feel like a pose, but it’s the word that works best for me. It doesn’t mean I necessarily spend umpteen hours a day writing poetry, but then I’d argue anyway that the genre doesn’t require or even benefit from lengthy periods at a desk. Instead, poems are often better for being filtered through lived experiences. My life feeds into my poetry and my poetry into my life. And that interwoven relationship is the reason why writing poems is a vocation for me.

The specific as a pathway to the universal

Having recently read a few gorgeous lyric poems that failed to transport me anywhere at all, I found myself (yet again!) wondering why.

Once more, I reached the conclusion that supposedly universal lyricism without context is just beautiful language that floats in a vacuum without an anchor. It's to be admired rather than absorbed.

In my view, one ideal way to achieve universality in a poem is via a specific frame of reference. This is crucial to the ability of a poem to create a credible new reality that enlightens and transforms the reader's pre-existing imaginary world.

Contrary to certain critical beliefs, the specific is a pathway towards the universal and never deserves to be disparaged as unambitious. In other words, so-called anecdotal poetry is capable of generating power that reaches far beyond its initial modest confines. The supposed anecdote is simply a point of departure...