grief

The Book Bag: The Way The Water Held Me by Catherine Redford

Welcome back to The Book Bag. I hope you’ve had a poetic week.

The week started wonderfully as I was in the audience for the launch of Hatchery by Elizabeth Osmond. Such a variety of voices sharing their work and support to Elizabeth. It was excellent.

I shared Part 3 of Rachel Turney’s Poetic Voice feature. I feel genuinely honoured to have after poems based on my work. Read the feature in full here.

The allotment is coming in leaps and bounds and next month we’ll be harvesting the garlic and maybe some new potatoes. The hot weather has been a massive help too although I did catch a bit too much and ended up having a siesta.

At work it’s getting increasingly busy day by day as the Summer series ramps up. I am having some holidays soon, so I need to prepare ahead of time. I did win a prize hamper of international snacks this week which I’m very grateful for.

On top of that I’ve been reading;

The Way The Water Held Me

  • Poet: Catherine Redford
  • Press: The Emma Press

As soon as I began reading The Way The Water Held Me for my first read through, I was captivated and didn’t put it down except for wiping the tears from my face to protect the pages. Catherine Redford gives everything in this book.

The poems ‘With Sympathy’, ‘Circles’ and ‘Her Last Day’ highlight Catherine’s superpower of resilience. These are only a few of the poems that touch on Catherine’s grief, and I felt deeply emotional when reading them. It would be a disservice to try and quantify how profoundly struck I was with this collection.

Excerpt from With Sympathy

The poetry in the collection is vivid and rich in language and metaphor. The pieces including ‘Between women just grown up’ (one of my favourites) and ‘Funeral’ transport and immerse the reader from the page to scene. This is also the case with ‘Lost In The Woods’ which is another of my favourites. ‘On Naming The Stars’ is another exemplary piece that I should mention (I could mention every poem in the book really) that makes readers take notice and reflect.

Catherine has an interest in Mary Shelley and in the book she acts as a foil for some tremendously touching pieces. The poems ‘Mary Shelley and I are shipwrecked’ and ‘Mary Shelley dreams she’s the last woman’ are so heartfelt, respectful and refreshing.

Excerpt from Mary Shelley and I are shipwrecked

Forms and styles are catered for throughout the collection which maintains the sense of originality. We as readers have ekphrastic poetry in ‘After Emily’, found poetry in ‘Mary Shelley writes to tell me that her husband drowned’ has and clever use of spacing in ‘Widows Weeds’ (another of my favourites). The prescriptive list piece ‘Postscript: I return to the river one year after her death’ is incredibly written.

Excerpt from After Emily

This collection is a masterpiece and will appeal to poetics who like reading emotionally powerful poetry. The fans of styles and forms will love the variety in the book. This is one of my favourite collections I’ve read. It is a stunning and brave book, and everyone should have a copy.

To learn more about Catherine Redford, click here.

To buy The Way The Water Held Me from The Emma Press, click here.

Favourite Poem:

I’ve already discussed the pieces ‘Between women just grown up’, ‘Lost In The Woods’  and Widows Weeds’, I will add another twelve but I could say the whole book. ‘Her Worldly Goods’, ‘Night Music’, ‘Starting Again’, ‘Moon Geese’, ‘Obituary’, ‘Good Friday’, ‘I visit a medieval herb garden in an attempt to rebalance my humours’, ‘Radiotherapy’, ‘Between women, very old’, ‘Return’, ‘Waves’ and ‘Performance’.

If you’ve made it to the playlist, these are the songs I landed on this week…

ABBA – Dancing Queen
Seal – Kiss From A Rose
Queen – You’re My Best Friend
Massive Attack – Teardrop
Sonny Rollins – Without A Song
Fatboy Slim – Praise You
James – She’s A Star
Eva Cassidy – Over The Rainbow
Aerosmith – I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing
White Town – Your Woman
Joanna Newsom – Sapokanikan
Art Pepper – Patricia

Before I Go…

If you’d like to take part at the next Book Bag Open Mic Session, tickets can be purchased here. Audience tickets are also available and free.


One More Thing…

If you’re in the Kingston area on 10th of July why not head to a poetry night hosted by Adam Elms and Book Bag alumni Chris Campbell. Tickets here.


And Another…

You have until Tuesday to submit to Full House Literary. Send your best work but make sure to read the guidelines.


And Finally…

Paul Brookes over at The Starbeck Orion is accepting poetry and artwork for The Summer Feast edition. Details here.

Next Week’s Read

  • Title: Drawn
  • Poet: Peter Hughes

Take it easy and stay poetic, I’ll catch you next week.

Paul

The Book Bag – Ever Striding Edge by Paul Brookes

Welcome back to The Book Bag. I hope you’ve had a poetic week.

This week has been busy; I attended an open mic, enjoyed a poetry workshop, said goodbye to my old team at work, saw some crocus and snowdrops emerge from the front lawn, and enjoyed TopTweetTuesday and PoemsAbout. Plus, I sent a couple of submissions off. 

I also got my hands on a copy of High Rise: Brutalist Poetry, a brutalist-inspired anthology, with one of my poems. Details of the anthology are here.

On top of that, I’ve been reading;

Ever Striding Edge

  • Author: Paul Brookes
  • Press: Dark Winter Press

Paul Brookes is a positive force for poetry. He writes, engages with and promotes other poets and creatives through the Wombwell Rainbow and Starbeck Orion. He has displayed a couple of my pieces in his Starbeck Orion publication on Substack. I have heard him read on several occasions and each time the emotion in his words left an impact. 

Ever Striding Edge is an intimate and heartwrenching collection of poems about family and grief and is the final collection in a septology of work. It is heavy with emotion, impact and experiences that many will be able to relate to. It begins on Striding Edge in the Lake District, where the powerful tone is set. 

A common thread throughout is breath. Both in the language and the opportunity to breathe between book sections. It is most apparent in poems including ‘Long Gallery’, ‘Her Stopping’ and ‘His Knaresborough’.

The imagery and references throughout the book reminded me of growing up in the 80s and 90s in Northumberland. The most notable of which is ‘In My Mam’s Mind’s Eye’. ‘I Watch Athletics With My Mam’ further details the relationship with his mother.

I have bookmarked the poem ‘I Sup Fathoms’. This brought a lump to my throat and I needed fresh air after reading. This also happened reading the section titled ‘The Day Grandad Disappeared’. It reminded me of my Great Granda Jock.

When discussing interactions with nature, Paul’s imagery is highly accomplished, this is no surprise after seeing plenty of his work in print and online. Multiple examples of this include; ‘Petals Open Wide At’, ‘Believe’, ‘In Nanna’s Garden’ and ‘Our Moorland’. 

This is a collection that teems with authenticity throughout. At times stark and others delicate, this book is brave, special and important.

Find out more about Paul here: https://thewombwellrainbow.com/ 

To get a copy of the book via Dark Winter Lit, click here: https://www.darkwinterlit.com/darkwinter-press?pgid=lm866r7x-3841dfe7-e5f2-4290-8c85-77b1a470b2c1 

Favorite Poem:
A Trimming Up. Followed closely by Protect.

Before You Go

I was clearing out space on my phone this week and I revisited a poem I wrote a while ago. This is Amateur Photos.

And Finally…
Next weekend I’m heading to Alnwick Storyfest. I’m looking forward to hearing poetry and buying some new books.

Next Week’s Read

Looking ahead, here’s what’s next in The Book Bag

  • Title: Fast Music
  • Author: Hugo Williams

Take it easy and stay poetic,

Paul

The Book Bag: Panic Response by John McCullough

Welcome back to The Book Bag. Last week, I shared my thoughts on Toccata and Fugue with Harp by Margaret Royall.

This week, between the wintry weather, getting a copy of Last Light (an apocalyptic poetry anthology I am featured in, published by The Broken Spine, find out more here), and dashing home from a saxophone lesson to attend an excellent writing workshop by Blackbough Poetry on time, I have been reading;

Panic Response 

  • Author: John McCullough
  • Press: Penned In The Margins
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Panic Response is a collection of poems that deals with grief, mental health and steps toward recovery. Personal themes intersect with wider social issues. The collection is dark with glimmers of light and sometimes feels like several parts of his mind clash. 

The poem ‘Flowers of Sulphur’ deals with the death of a friend head-on. The rawness of the line ‘They found you in the bath, wrists opened. No note’ hits you square in the face and the heart within the context of the whole piece. I re-read this several times out of sorrow and respect. 

In the poem ‘Comma’,  we delve into an unrelenting stream of consciousness. And just like a stream, it doesn’t end how it begins. It’s a clever piece.  

Throughout the book, John McCullough’s vivid use of colour and how it equates to varying emotions or people is incredible. In ‘Quantum’ he dedicates the colour lilac to Avril Brown, his former chemistry teacher, ‘Mr Jelly’ has several depictions of the colour of silence and obviously the piece, ‘Electric Blue’. 

‘Glass Men’ deals with relationships between men expertly and is a great opening to the collection. One of the lines, made me gasp. I won’t say which one, but it is such a perfect observation.

The poem ‘Letter to Lee Harwood’ manages to capture multiple subjects in one; loneliness, Covid, fear, an elderly neighbour’s paranoia and injustice. The form of couplets gives readers time to digest and breathe in this piece. 

I mentioned the use of colour earlier in the poem. This collection also plays with form throughout. Each of these is carefully considered and makes perfect sense for the message of each poem.

I could go on and on about how much I enjoyed this book. It is sad, tragic, harrowing and gets under your skin but there are also lighter moments. I would highly recommend this to anybody looking to get a glimpse into the mind of a great poet and how he has managed to channel experiences into such a formidable collection.  

Favorite Poem:
Crown Shyness. 

One More Thing… 

When I started writing poetry again in July 2020, Reckless Paper Birds by John McCullough was one of the first books, I read. Find more about John McCullough here: https://johnmccullough.co.uk/

And Finally…

In the poem Error Garden, Hama-rikyu Garden in Japan is mentioned. For this week’s Top Tweet Tuesday, I wrote about the Japanese Cherry Tree Orchard in Alnwick Garden.

You can read it here: The Cherry Tree Orchard, Alnwick Garden

Next Week’s Read

Looking ahead, here’s what’s in my book bag next week;

  • Title: Back From Away 
  • Author: Damien B. Donnelly

That’s it for this week’s reading roundup! If you’ve read any of the books I’m sharing or have recommendations for what poetry I should be reading, drop a comment below. 

Take it easy

Paul

If Men Were Gods

If the 200-yard walk while drinking tea was a sport
you would have been a world champion
I’ve never known a man since
who could time his brew from doorstep to doorstep
without spilling a drop
without breaking their mug
even better was your ability to puff a smoke
and stop for craic with folk you liked
between our streets

your soundtrack was eclectic
Elton to Abba
Hot Chocolate to Jimmy Nail
which I want to thank you for
because it rubbed off on me

I’ll always be envious of your moustache
because it made the smile on your face
all the more rich
but I don’t envy the shellsuits you liked
or some of the neon vests

Cantona once said
“I think I have a sense of mischief and that I can laugh at myself.”
he could’ve been quoting you
because your humour was only second
to your loyalty

You taught me so much
yet I’ve still got lots to learn
but I’ll do it with a glint in my eye
and a smile on my face
the way you would.

This poem is dedicated to my late, great Uncle Ray.

Exile

I crawled into the carcass
of your scavenged legacy
stitched a cocoon from the carrion
of false epithets bestowed
on your name.

sepia-brittle and crumbling I clung
pupating in a squall of anger
until I sliced my way out
a katana soul-drawn
from the scabbard of my heart
a ronin now
banished for freeing myself
from the collective.

I carry our memories
in the whetstone
that tempers blade
exquisitely fatal.

Ascent

This time
the climb felt easier
the incline didn’t seem to stretch for a year
my legs keeping feeling without force.

This time
my dewy eyes were due to a biting wind
     rather than the noose of grief
that swallowed the air from my body
           and the right words from my lips
like the last time.

And this time our hands held gentler
and it wasn’t to do with the new gloves
we are stronger now.

Chokehold

Throat 
raw with grief
or is it the whiskey
each fuelling the other 
like oceans 
feed storms
and storms 
feed oceans. 

blue volcanoes
push magma down my face
but instead of sulphur
it's the sodium that burns 

they say applying pressure on coal
gives you a diamond 
the weight of your loss
cuts with clarity
time is precious
life is finite.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. Sometimes grief can’t let you say things, so you have to write them down.
Enough of the moroseness; I hope you’re doing well, and if you want to read something lighthearted after this, I’d recommend this poem.

Take it easy,

Paul