I am a British poet living in the Peak District in Derbyshire, which is perhaps why I can’t stop the natural world from coming into my poems. My writing shed at the top of the garden looks out over a field and up to a limestone outcrop with a stand of beech trees. When there are no poems, I sit and watch the birds and wait for the sheep to trundle down the hill at the end of the afternoon. I read poems about nature because those are the ones I love best–poems that might capture something I’ve noticed but that put it into a beautiful and startling new language.
I love this dazzlingly original collection, which evokes a childhood in rural Cumbria. Jackself is the title character, but there are plenty of other Jacks in the poems, too – Jacks from nursery rhymes and folklore and English legend.
Jackself is a mostly solitary boy, and the poems take us into the strange, funny, frightening world of a child who lives on the edge of nature, sometimes seeming to become a feral creature himself. I was struck by the startlingly wild and fearless imagery of the poems, which make the natural world a darkly compelling place.
Jackself is the fourth collection from one of Britain's finest poets, and sees Jacob Polley at the height of his powers. In one of the most original books of poetry to appear in the last decade, Jackself spins a kind of 'fictionalized autobiography' through nursery rhymes, riddles and cautionary tales, and through the many 'Jacks' of our folktale, legend, phrase and fable - everyman Jacks and no one Jacks, Jackdaw, Jack-O-Lantern, Jack Sprat, Cheapjack and Jack Frost. At once playful and terrifying, lyric and narratively compelling, Jackself is an unforgettable exploration…
I read this book and immediately recommended it to my book club because I loved it so much. I’ve not read a collection quite like it. It is a long poem about the River Dart in Devon, but the word ‘about’ doesn’t quite capture it.
What’s remarkable is that the river seems to have found its own language–a sinuous, twisting, turning, stopping, starting rhythm of words. The poem flows forward, shifting and shape-shifting as it goes and making new worlds of language along the way.
Over the past three years Alice Oswald has been recording conversations with people who live and work on the River Dart in Devon. Using these records and voices as a sort of poetic census, she creates a narrative of the river, tracking its life from source to sea. The voices are wonderfully varied and idiomatic - they include a poacher, a ferryman, a sewage worker and milk worker, a forester, swimmers and canoeists - and are interlinked with historic and mythic voices: drowned voices, dreaming voices and marginal notes which act as markers along the way.
LeeAnn Pickrell’s love affair with punctuation began in a tenth-grade English class.
Punctuated is a playful book of punctuation poems inspired by her years as an editor. Frustrated by the misuse of the semicolon, she wrote a poem to illustrate its correct use. From there she realized the other marks…
This beautiful collection stopped me in my tracks. In many ways, it’s a quiet book – the poems celebrate moments of observation and intense connection with the natural world. Many are in the first person, a speaking ‘I’ or ‘we’ caught up in a tender encounter with creatures, stones, water, and grass.
In the words of one of the poems, “the world comes in by the ear,” and these delicate poems echo with music and the simple language of everyday speech. One of the things I love is the way our human lives always hover close – the worlds of work, of love, of our children growing up and moving away. All is brought closer by the quiet lessons of the natural world.
In Earth House, Matthew Hollis evokes the landscape, language and ecology of the isles of Britain and Ireland to explore how our most intimate moments have resonance in the wider cycle of life. Beginning in the slate waters of the north, the book revolves around the cardinal points and the ancient elements: through the wide skies of the east and the terrain of a southern city, to the embers of places lost to us, to which we can no longer return.
What emerges is a moving meditation on time and the transformative phases of nature that calls many forces into…
I opened this and read the first poem: apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist
That’s it! Those are the only words on the first page, stating the obvious and miraculous. There’s no full stop. And why apricot trees in particular? Maybe it’s because of the delicate beauty of the word on the tongue. We want to say the line over and over again.
And so the collection proceeds, startling and beautiful and also frightening, as the damage we are doing to our planet moves to the fore towards the end. I love that the collection is alphabetical – another reason why we begin with apricot trees. By the time we’ve travelled from A to Z we have somehow encountered all of the world and all of life.
Awarded the American-Scandinavian PEN Translation Prize by Michael Hamburger, Susanna Nied's translation of alphabet introduces Inger Christensen's poetry to US readers for the first time. Born in 1935, Inger Christensen is Denmark's best known poet. Her award-winning alphabet is based structurally on Fibonacci's sequence (a mathematical sequence in which each number is the sum of the two previous numbers), in combination with the alphabet. The gorgeous poetry herein reflects a complex philosophical background, yet has a visionary quality, discovering the metaphysical in the simple stuff of everyday life. In alphabet, Christensen creates a framework of psalm-like forms that unfold like…
LeeAnn Pickrell’s love affair with punctuation began in a tenth-grade English class.
Punctuated is a playful book of punctuation poems inspired by her years as an editor. Frustrated by the misuse of the semicolon, she wrote a poem to illustrate its correct use. From there she realized the other marks…
Although the poet Michael Longley was a Titan of the Irish literary landscape, many of my favorites among his poems are the tiniest of things. In this collection (which is almost his last), he catalogs the birds and creatures that populate his little corner of Ireland.
Like the ‘peasant poet’ John Clare before him, he has an eye for the particular–for the sound a bird makes or the shape of its nest. These miniatures are exquisitely beautiful and I treasure each one for its precision and truth.
Michael Longley’s new collection takes its title from Dylan Thomas—“for the sake of the souls of the slain birds sailing.” The Slain Birds encompasses souls, slayings, and many birds, both dead and alive. The first poem laments a tawny owl killed by a car. That owl reappears later in “Totem,” which represents the book itself as “a star-surrounded totem pole/ With carvings of all the creatures.” “Slain birds” exemplify our impact on the creatures and the planet. But, in this book’s cosmic ecological scheme, birds are predators too, and coronavirus is “the merlin we cannot see.” Longley’s soul-landscape seems increasingly…
This book is a collection of mostly short lyric poems, many of which arise from the quiet contemplation of landscapes or the plants and creatures that inhabit them. The poems often explore the ways in which the natural world can illuminate our human lives.
In the sequence at the heart of the collection – inspired by the flower remedies created by the homeopath Dr Edward Bach – plants and flowers speak of their hopes and fears, which (it turns out) are very much like our own.
