Prize-winners: review
Ghost-Walking by Stephen Duncan, 36pp;
Snug by Kathryn Simmonds, 28pp;
The Picture Never Taken by Sam Gardiner, 31pp;
Tenderness by Tim Dooley, 32pp. £3.00 each;
Smith/Doorstop, The Studio, Byram Arcade, Westgate, Huddersfield HD1 1ND
A bright start to the day: four cheerfully-coloured pamphlets, attractively produced. All are winners in the annual Poetry Business Book and Pamphlet Competition, and to some extent, that shows. It shows in the quality of the poetry, but also in similarities. There are, for example, plenty of anecdotes and personal experiences which prompt a final generalisation or philosophical point. This could of course reflect the taste of the judge. Nothing wrong with that, and naturally there are differences from poets with varied backgrounds: sculpture, children’s publishing, architecture and teaching.
The sculptor is Stephen Duncan, and it is an erotic rather than a supernatural strain which dominates his Ghost-Walking. This strain moves easily through bones, butterflies, peacocks and shoes and concludes, naturally, with Ovid. The words and rhythms flow effectively, justifying the quotation from Hugo Williams on Duncan’s ‘tragi-comic vision of the life of the senses’. Duncan, however, impressed me most in two very different poems: ‘Autumn Beast’, a vine out of control, and ‘The Emperor’s Sculptor’, who makes ‘monuments for many rulers’. The latter moves well beyond the personal and really stirs mind and senses.
Kathryn Simmonds is the jester in this pack, although when she swings her bauble it can hurt. The first poem, ‘Things I’ve found in books’, sets the trend. Findings include denture-fixative, salami, alsatian snot (don’t ask) and semen. I know that Belloc is said to have used a kipper as a bookmark, but really Kathryn, your librarian! The penultimate poem, ‘About Benefits’, is taken from the Jobseekers Allowance claim form: it’s amusing – but poetry? Between these two are succesful poems with humorous flavours and serious dimensions, and others such as ‘Riverton Rocks, 1959’ with a resonance going well beyond humour. In the final poem, ‘Snug’, world problems are solved by having political figures cosy in bed with Kathryn, having ‘all there is to have’. Unfortunately it isn’t, as many of these pleasing poems show.
When I read Sam Gardiner’s title poem, ‘The Picture Never Taken’, I was puzzled, and it wasn’t just by its meaning. Then I realised – the man is using rhyme and half-rhyme. This, I thought, will make a change. It didn’t; the poem in that respect was unique. But never mind, his language has its own strengths, as in ‘Dedicated’:
high fields grazed by clouds, invisible sheep
with mulberry shadows
He has, too, some of the best anecdotes, such as ‘The Wreath’, which mysteriously moves from his mother’s grave to another. As Bogart didn’t say, ‘Give us more, Sam’.
Tim Dooley also has some good serious anecdotes, and in ‘Tidying Up’, achieves one of the best domestic poems in these four collections, and in ‘Fading Chameleons’, one of the best short poems. He writes in sound, well-punctuated English (well he should, as Head of an English Department). I enjoyed the many-faceted journey in easy-flowing words through Jaccottet, Allendene posters, libraries, beekeepers, Shelley, Pound, poetry-readings and Leroy Haynes. I feel I’d gain from being one of his pupils.
But was I disappointed in these four pamphlets? Slightly, because having read the impressive acknowledgements, including prestigious prizes, I thought there might be at least one poem to declare its greatness, with vigour and originality of language and power of ideas and feelings. Sadly, none did, though I read on and was interested,
amused, entertained and impressed; all four craft float very well on the vast sea of contemporary poetry. Something to be thankful for and praise, as I am and do.
Snug by Kathryn Simmonds, 28pp;
The Picture Never Taken by Sam Gardiner, 31pp;
Tenderness by Tim Dooley, 32pp. £3.00 each;
Smith/Doorstop, The Studio, Byram Arcade, Westgate, Huddersfield HD1 1ND
A bright start to the day: four cheerfully-coloured pamphlets, attractively produced. All are winners in the annual Poetry Business Book and Pamphlet Competition, and to some extent, that shows. It shows in the quality of the poetry, but also in similarities. There are, for example, plenty of anecdotes and personal experiences which prompt a final generalisation or philosophical point. This could of course reflect the taste of the judge. Nothing wrong with that, and naturally there are differences from poets with varied backgrounds: sculpture, children’s publishing, architecture and teaching.
The sculptor is Stephen Duncan, and it is an erotic rather than a supernatural strain which dominates his Ghost-Walking. This strain moves easily through bones, butterflies, peacocks and shoes and concludes, naturally, with Ovid. The words and rhythms flow effectively, justifying the quotation from Hugo Williams on Duncan’s ‘tragi-comic vision of the life of the senses’. Duncan, however, impressed me most in two very different poems: ‘Autumn Beast’, a vine out of control, and ‘The Emperor’s Sculptor’, who makes ‘monuments for many rulers’. The latter moves well beyond the personal and really stirs mind and senses.
Kathryn Simmonds is the jester in this pack, although when she swings her bauble it can hurt. The first poem, ‘Things I’ve found in books’, sets the trend. Findings include denture-fixative, salami, alsatian snot (don’t ask) and semen. I know that Belloc is said to have used a kipper as a bookmark, but really Kathryn, your librarian! The penultimate poem, ‘About Benefits’, is taken from the Jobseekers Allowance claim form: it’s amusing – but poetry? Between these two are succesful poems with humorous flavours and serious dimensions, and others such as ‘Riverton Rocks, 1959’ with a resonance going well beyond humour. In the final poem, ‘Snug’, world problems are solved by having political figures cosy in bed with Kathryn, having ‘all there is to have’. Unfortunately it isn’t, as many of these pleasing poems show.
When I read Sam Gardiner’s title poem, ‘The Picture Never Taken’, I was puzzled, and it wasn’t just by its meaning. Then I realised – the man is using rhyme and half-rhyme. This, I thought, will make a change. It didn’t; the poem in that respect was unique. But never mind, his language has its own strengths, as in ‘Dedicated’:
high fields grazed by clouds, invisible sheep
with mulberry shadows
He has, too, some of the best anecdotes, such as ‘The Wreath’, which mysteriously moves from his mother’s grave to another. As Bogart didn’t say, ‘Give us more, Sam’.
Tim Dooley also has some good serious anecdotes, and in ‘Tidying Up’, achieves one of the best domestic poems in these four collections, and in ‘Fading Chameleons’, one of the best short poems. He writes in sound, well-punctuated English (well he should, as Head of an English Department). I enjoyed the many-faceted journey in easy-flowing words through Jaccottet, Allendene posters, libraries, beekeepers, Shelley, Pound, poetry-readings and Leroy Haynes. I feel I’d gain from being one of his pupils.
But was I disappointed in these four pamphlets? Slightly, because having read the impressive acknowledgements, including prestigious prizes, I thought there might be at least one poem to declare its greatness, with vigour and originality of language and power of ideas and feelings. Sadly, none did, though I read on and was interested,
amused, entertained and impressed; all four craft float very well on the vast sea of contemporary poetry. Something to be thankful for and praise, as I am and do.
Page(s) 50-51
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