Reviews
Kung-fu Lullabies by Chris Kinsey
Ragged Raven Poetry, 1 Lodge Farm, Snitterfield, Warks,
CV37 OLR, ; ISBN 0954239776; A5 perfect bound; 32pp; £7
Great title and the blurbs, "...uses words as if they have just been invented...", "...lyrical grace and linguistic invention..." promise much. "A Kung-fu Lullaby", contains a nice image, "... Three weeks old;/ fury fires your limbs,/ charges your spine rigid.// Your perfect cries deafen midnight/ till we tilt, heart on heart..." let down by the too ordinary, "My hands let go// leave you balancing at low tide.// You shin along my ribbing/ snuggle under my chin/ subside into sobs and
snuffles..." until the better, "We bob in the shallows catching the swell/ until we’re afloat/ billowing on big breaths...". Then a piece of philosophy (thought necessary because of recent movies featuring martial arts and philosophy?), "I tell you in thoughts,/ It takes time and lots of practice/ to map a mind into a body.// 2.00 am Dad brings your feed -/ you’re stuck to my neck/ like a snail on a hot wall..." surely limpet and rock would better fit the previous sea imagery? Throughout the following 68 poems, the word nice kept springing to mind: nice image, nice turn of phrase, nice opening, nice. Faultless production values, but a tighter editorial pen would have raised these beyond nice.
Ragged Raven Poetry, 1 Lodge Farm, Snitterfield, Warks,
CV37 OLR, ; ISBN 0954239776; A5 perfect bound; 32pp; £7
Great title and the blurbs, "...uses words as if they have just been invented...", "...lyrical grace and linguistic invention..." promise much. "A Kung-fu Lullaby", contains a nice image, "... Three weeks old;/ fury fires your limbs,/ charges your spine rigid.// Your perfect cries deafen midnight/ till we tilt, heart on heart..." let down by the too ordinary, "My hands let go// leave you balancing at low tide.// You shin along my ribbing/ snuggle under my chin/ subside into sobs and
snuffles..." until the better, "We bob in the shallows catching the swell/ until we’re afloat/ billowing on big breaths...". Then a piece of philosophy (thought necessary because of recent movies featuring martial arts and philosophy?), "I tell you in thoughts,/ It takes time and lots of practice/ to map a mind into a body.// 2.00 am Dad brings your feed -/ you’re stuck to my neck/ like a snail on a hot wall..." surely limpet and rock would better fit the previous sea imagery? Throughout the following 68 poems, the word nice kept springing to mind: nice image, nice turn of phrase, nice opening, nice. Faultless production values, but a tighter editorial pen would have raised these beyond nice.
Page(s) 19
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