Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

There can’t be many poets these days who sing the praises of the working-class, talk about communists in a respectful way, and generally angle their work towards a radical running commentary on the state of the nation. And do it all in what are usually referred to as traditional forms. Andy Croft does all of this and he’s quite successful in keeping up a decent level of entertaining poetry which pushes the reader along from page to page:

From Newport, Saltersgill and Brambles
                                                            Farm
The homeless squatters filled the army camps
And led by Reds just out of uniform
Defied police and council, freezing damp
And a People’s Government so quick to shore
Up private property but slow to build
For those who’d fought and won the People’s
                                                             War
But found the People’s Peace still unfulfilled.

This deals with a historical event, and Croft is sure to make his point that “Reds” played a prominent part in it, but he often turns to more-topical subjects, as in a poem attacking his local MP and another where he comments on his home-town, Middlesbrough. It seems this particular poem was commissioned for the launch of the Middlesbrough Town Centre Company but rejected because potential investors in the town might not like it. It makes me wonder what the sponsors thought they would get but also why Croft imagined they’d welcome his acerbic views.

     The longest poem in the book, ‘Letter to Randall Swingler’, deals with the life and times of a forgotten poet, a man who fought bravely in the Second World War, was a communist, and died relatively young. Like so many others of his kind, he got lost as the Cold War came in and his work was consigned to the dustbin of history. Croft has recently edited a selection of his poems for Trent Editions, and his own poetic tribute to Swingler neatly outlines his story and Croft’s struggles to revive his reputation.

     I enjoyed this book even if some of Croft’s targets are fairly obvious ones and his rhymes now and then slide uneasily close to doggerel. Swipes at the Arts Council can be a bit tiresome, not because I agree with all the policies of that organisation but because I suspect they only make people think that the person doing the attacking is annoyed at not having been given a hand-out or two. And there may be a touch of irony in having your book supported by an arts association and writing lines about poets who “end up talking lies/ Or bollocks (just the kind Arts Councils like/ To publish and to subsidise!)”.