A collection of 50 poems with around 20 illustrations which are drawings, paintings or photographs.
These poems don’t always concern themselves overmuch with sequenced narrative. In a sense, they are static; to be looked at, or even watched, out of time. They are rhythmical patterns like an Islamic rug – weathered street-posters, a Tallis choral piece.
They employ many poetry tricks: internal & end rhymes, syllabics, sonnet and other ir/regular poem forms; punctuation & none. They utilise spaces between words for thought-pause and are often conscious of their shape on the page .
I never start out to write with any of these devices. They grow out of my method; that is to throw all my thoughts, observations, snatched phrases onto the page; kick them around. Along the way, a subject or form may begin to shape up & have a reason for staying together. If I’m lucky, there may come about a marriage, of a kind, between sound, form and sense.
I’d like to think people might read two or three on a train journey, in a queue, before or after their day.
The images act like frames around the poems, or, rise up from their depths like bubbles.
The poems may add up to some of my concerns; more pertinently, they’re just an occasion to toy with the rich sound, rhythm and sense of English.
A collection of 50 poems with around 20 illustrations which are drawings, paintings or photographs.
These poems don’t always concern themselves overmuch with sequenced narrative. In a sense, they are static; to be looked at, or even watched, out of time. They are rhythmical patterns like an Islamic rug – weathered street-posters, a Tallis choral piece.
They employ many poetry tricks: internal & end rhymes, syllabics, sonnet and other ir/regular poem forms; punctuation & none. They utilise spaces between words for thought-pause and are often conscious of their shape on the page .
I never start out to write with any of these devices. They grow out of my method; that is to throw all my thoughts, observations, snatched phrases onto the page; kick them around. Along the way, a subject or form may begin to shape up & have a reason for staying together. If I’m lucky, there may come about a marriage, of a kind, between sound, form and sense.
I’d like to think people might read two or three on a train journey, in a queue, before or after their day.
The images act like frames around the poems, or, rise up from their depths like bubbles.
The poems may add up to some of my concerns; more pertinently, they’re just an occasion to toy with the rich sound, rhythm and sense of English.