Crows

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This is the first poem in a series still not quite completed. Although the rest of the series needs to be read as a single entity, this one works as a standalone piece.

Crows are unsettling.

They make eye contact with you,

Like all their kind:

Rooks, magpies, jackdaws and their ilk,

Black-eyed, mocking, wind-flicked feathers,

Watching you from high branches,

Scattered trees, lone rocks and open fields.

Krra icily in the harshest breeze.

 

They could be smart, dark-suited undertakers,

Clearing up dead bodies or

Smug bankers, lounging in the hotel bar with

After-dinner drinks, bragging raucously.

 

Crows solve problems, are wary, learn,

And remember you.

They may reward kindness

With coins and pieces of glass,

With golf balls, or feathers.

But crows make up murders.

They hold grudges and will plot your destruction

If you cross them.

 

The Night Bus ebook Free for Three Days

Giveaway now live!

I think the thing I miss the most during the Coronavirus crisis is being able to travel around; being able to to take journeys. Even a day out is forbidden just now, and all I can do other than go for a local walk is to read books about travel or watch documentaries. I’m sure there are many more like me out there, eager to indulge their wanderlust in any way they can.

So here’s my contribution:

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The Night Bus is my book of short stories and poems, all based around the theme of ‘journeys’, and I’m making the e-book free to download for a short period from this coming Saturday.

The link is here and the giveaway will run from Saturday 25th April – Monday 7th April inclusive, US Pacific Time (I know, but that’s how Amazon insists on setting it up! It’s 8 hours behind UK time, so that means the giveaway will presumably start 8 a.m. Saturday UK time and finish 8 a.m. Tuesday.). I’ve not run one of these before, so I hope it works! Please let me know if there are any problems!

Obviously, if you do download it, a review would be marvellous and I’d really appreciate it!

The Night Bus ebook Free for Three Days

Giveaway now live!

I think the thing I miss the most during the Coronavirus crisis is being able to travel around; being able to to take journeys. Even a day out is forbidden just now, and all I can do other than go for a local walk is to read books about travel or watch documentaries. I’m sure there are many more like me out there, eager to indulge their wanderlust in any way they can.

So here’s my contribution:

312EjL1fieL._SY346_

The Night Bus is my book of short stories and poems, all based around the theme of ‘journeys’, and I’m making the e-book free to download for a short period from this coming Saturday.

The link is here and the giveaway will run from Saturday 25th April – Monday 7th April inclusive, US Pacific Time (I know, but that’s how Amazon insists on setting it up! It’s 8 hours behind UK time, so that means the giveaway will presumably start 8 a.m. Saturday UK time and finish 8 a.m. Tuesday.). I’ve not run one of these before, so I hope it works! Please let me know if there are any problems!

Obviously, if you do download it, a review would be marvellous and I’d really appreciate it!

Lost and Found in Translation

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I have read many novels, short stories and poems translated into English from other languages, but I wonder how much of what I read is true to the original intentions of the authors?

The Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges wrote many short stories and poems, all of them in his native Spanish. Although I did buy one collection in Spanish, my own knowledge of that language has always been too poor for me to do anything other than read it slowly and laboriously and, undoubtedly, to miss many of the nuances in the writing. So for that reason, I’ve had to read them in translation.

And in any case, even if I spoke Spanish well I could do little more than read it as translation in my head. Unless I spoke it like a native speaker, I would still likely miss much that the author intended to convey.

And so I buy translations.

Zima Junction by the Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko is a long poem that tells of the poet’s visit to his home town in Siberia, having left some years before to go to live and work in a city. It is a beautiful depiction of rural life in Russia at the time, seen afresh after a gap of several years away, and describes the poets now ambiguous relationship with it.

Long poems can be good vehicles for describing journeys; my own poem The Night Bus does just that, and was written because in that instance I could not find any other medium that worked as well to convey what I wanted to say.

Another favourite of mine is Dart by Alice Oswald, which describes a journey from the source to the sea along the River Dart in Devon, England. She gives voices to the various people encountered along this journey, and to the animals living there…Since it is written in English, I am not left with any worry I am missing things the poet wanted to say, other than perhaps my own occasional inability to understand her.

I have a book of poems from North East India. It is an anthology that I bought in India, with contributions from a huge number of poets. A few of them wrote in English, but the majority of them wrote in other languages – some in Bengali, but the majority in one or other of the plethora of languages to be found in the North East States. And, sadly, most of the translations appear to have been done as a straightforward translation word for word, with no thought given to the feeling of the poem. Any rhythm the poems may originally have had seems to have been lost. The sentences are often clunky and uncomfortable to read. Their meanings have become lost in translation.

But Zima Junction has a natural and comfortable rhythm

The translator of a poem has, to my mind, a task that is more difficult than the translator of prose. Yet, paradoxically, they also have more freedom. More difficult, because they have to get across to the reader ideas or meanings that may be partly concealed in idiomatic language used by the author that perhaps we have no parallel for in English, and hence they may have to completely alter the structure of that part. This will affect a line of poetry far more than it would a line of prose. Immediately, the rhythm of the poem is disrupted, the word count of the line changed.

Yet the reader of a poem has a right to expect a poem. And so, strangely, the translator has the freedom to re-write the poem. In the need for the end result of their translation to be a poem, they may have to completely alter much of the structure to enable the translated words to reassemble themselves as a poem. And so the translators of poems must, by essence, be poets themselves.

So to return to Borges and Yevtushenko, when I read the poems I do wonder whether I am actually reading their poems, or someone else’s?

The Barrow

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On wind-sucked Sussex chalklands

Rises a barrow older than itself;

A mock-maternal swell of earth,

Long overdue.

 

O my land!

Let me hug you close and put my ear to your bump!

I will listen for the sounds within!

 

But tell me,

If it is true that it only contains

The remains of the dead,

Then why do I hear a heartbeat?

Review of Walk Away Silver Heart by Frank Prem

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This is a collection of love poetry, with each poem inspired by a line or phrase from the poem Madonna of the Evening Flowers, by Amy Lowell.

If I hadn’t already read some of these poems on Frank’s blog I don’t think I would have approached this collection, since love poetry is not something that usually appeals to me. Poetry is a medium of emotions, but love poetry can sink all too easily into banality or cloying sentimentality, something which is best written privately for an audience of one. Frank avoids this trap, though, by writing about the lives of the lover and the beloved – the gardening, the brewing of the coffee, the shared music – rather than the more intimate details of the relationship. Sometimes these are little more than snapshots of shared moments, at others there is more of a narrative.

Yet this makes it no less a love poetry. Each poem speaks of feelings, sometimes telling overtly of love, but sometimes this emotion is reached by a more circuitous route. In each of them, though, there is gentleness and patience. This is a mature poetry, a poetry that recognises love is something that needs to endure.

Frank describes himself as a storytelling poet, and his three previous published books all work on that level as narrative. This collection manages to do the same, only without the timeline.

One poem shall suffice as an example: Tell me everything (about you), inspired by the line You tell me these things.

tell me everything (about you)

You tell me these things.

talk to me

tell me things

you think

I need

to know

pour the yellow liquor

hot

into my shot glass

speak of love

talk in tongues

of fire

tell me of your anger

of the passion

that is the same thing

shout aloud

all the things

that you believe

hold meaning

I will turn them

on my guitar

into a song

ta-da ta-da-da

throw your glass

into the fire

then

start dancing

tell me

all these things

I

would know

everything

and all there is

about you

Although, as I mentioned earlier, I rarely read love poetry, I have to say I really enjoyed this collection and will certainly award it 5 stars out of 5.

The ebook is released on February 14th, and paperback on March 14th. It is available on Amazon, and can be pre-ordered before those dates.

Storm Light

It’s time for me to take another of my breaks from Social Media. For my sanity, as much as anything else. I’ll leave the comments open, and promise to answer anyone who leaves a comment, sooner or later.

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I will not be idle! I have some work to do on this site, as well as a lot of writing to catch up on, but I need to find a bit of time for life in general, too.

I’ll leave you with this poem.

Snapshot.

 

Thin, wind-threaded branches:

Spilled black ink against storm light

Rook-song echoes from cold rocks

Patches of rain-lain foot-snaring nettles

In wind-rolled grass

 

My luck,

Emerging from the holloway just then,

From beneath wind-whipped trees

Into involuntarily sucked breath of

Wind-ecstasy.

 

My luck.

 

If you liked this poem, you may like the poems in my new collection The Night Bus, available here.

I Am The Wind

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I clatter dry leaves along dusty footpaths

And bear burdens far greater

Than mere birds and clouds.

 

On high, cold, moors I blow

In the hollow eyes of sheep, inert and prone,

And ruffle the hissing grass over barrows

Of long-dead chieftains.

 

From the fading fires of the sick and the dying

I blow prayers in the smarting eyes

Of disinterested and uncaring gods.

 

I steal your thoughts.

The Night Bus Has Arrived!

We’ve been away for a couple of days, and in that time the proof copy of The Night Bus arrived.

I’ve read it through to check for any errors, and am relieved to report I found none, so the paperback copy is good to go!

Both it and the e-book version are available on Amazon, and can be found on my author page here.

Just time to order a few dozen (or more) for Christmas!

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Early Release of the Paperback Edition of The Night Bus

Oh, I knew I’d get something wrong.

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I wanted both the e-book and the Print On Demand paperback to be released on the 30th November. All went smoothly as far as the e-book was concerned, but Amazon have just emailed me to say the paperback is live now.

I blame the change from their old system to the new one. Before, the author had to approve a proof copy before the paperback would go live. Despite my ordering a proof copy that will not arrive for a few days yet, it’s already gone live.

Oh, well.

‘Roll up, roll up! The Paperback edition of The Night Bus is available now on Amazon! Roll up, roll up!’