Author: oxfordbrookesuni

‘II’

~ oxfordbrookesuni

II
“Can we believe that we are fulfilling the purpose of our existence while so many of the wonders and beauties of the creation remain unnoticed around us?”
                                          – Alfred Russel Wallace, My Life.

For Torben Larsen, entomologist.

In case after case,
            amazements of complex colour:
dots and stripes and swirls –
            the Peruvian dazzle,
                        frail mica-translucence,
                                    mercury-liquid blueness,
                                                glass-wing come-and-go glitter.

It’s the entomologists’ fair,
           and we’ve queued in October rain
                        for the Kempton Racecourse turnstiles,
jumping to islands between puddles,
            cracking jokes with strangers.

At the trestle tables inside
            it’s quite hard to get a look-in,
what with these serious chaps,
            boxes tucked under arms,
                        and the quiet observant children
                                    unsurprised as experts.

About killing, I learned yesterday:
            most often a light pinch
                        under raised-up wings,
the long heart constricted
            to its last beat.

Among all the rest, birdwings.

Why, if Wallace’s wonder –
                        golden-winged croesus croesus –
                                     turns up, should I not buy one?
                                                I feel hesitation beginning.

A naturalist once said to me:
            ‘The individual doesn’t matter’ –
and I doubt it’ll be the collector’s
            delight in rare acquisitions
                        that will one day extinguish species,
or the scientist’s need to test
            theory by close observation –
                        which may, rather, help to save them.

It’s logging, it’s slash and burn.
            Smoke stifling the forest.
                        Commerce. And desperation.

And I too have needed a body –
            something more dead than a photo –
                        to bring me the sense of his life
                                    ancient, single, and other.

Those glaucus solid mounds
            that gave him mosaic vision,
colours that still reflect
            his favourite yellow flowers,
hind-wing edges, silky
            with hair-like scales, that combed
                        the lek with a sexual perfume.

I think of your hands showing,
            like this, how he’d rise from beneath,
                        touching his body to hers,
and her antennae tilt to smell
            his personal scent, the hairs
                        and pheromone hind-wing patches,
                                    intimate under her feet.
‘The taste of this one?’ Choosing.

What need do I still have,
            now, to possess a body,
                        having sensed (overhear myself think this)
                                    a soul – what better word is there?

On the train home, I turn
            the pages of second-hand books
                        purchased instead – facts and photos;
wonder, dozing a little,
            at the tenuous job of poet.

by Anne Cluysenaar

From Batu-Angas, Seren 2008

This beautiful sequence of poems by Anne Cluysenaar is inspired by the travels and discoveries of the great naturalist, Alfred Russel Wallace (1823-1913). The title Batu-Angas, meaning ‘burnt rocks or cooled lava’, is derived from the language spoken on the volcanic island of Ternate, where Wallace experienced that flash of insight which led him to the theory of natural selection. To the poet, ‘cooled lava’ suggests the brief glimpses we get as human beings into the “huge slow changes” of evolution. The poems – evocative, precise, questioning – are accompanied by a rich selection of images: some of living animals and plants, some chosen by Wallace to illustrate the accounts of his travels, while others, photographed for this book, are of Wallace drawings and specimens sent back by him to Britain during his years in Amazonia and the Malay Archipelago. 2008 is the 150th anniversary of the discovery by Wallace and Darwin of evolution by natural selection.

Anne Cluysenaar’s Timeslips, New and Selected Poems, appeared from Carcanet in 1997. She has edited the selected poems of Henry Vaughan and is a poetry editor for the journal Scintilla. She and her husband run a smallholding on the Welsh borders.

Seren is an independent literary publisher, specialising in English-language writing from Wales. Our diverse and eclectic list has something to offer anyone with an interest in excellent writing. Our aim is not simply to reflect what is going on in the culture in which we publish, but to drive that culture forward, to engage with the world, and to bring Welsh literature, art and politics before a wider audience.

Please visit our website for more information on our authors and titles.

Collected, Selected, Neglected …

~ oxfordbrookesuni

… My poems …
I write them, I forget them, I misplace them! They come back,
then I change them – though they can’t change the world,
they change me … Sometimes they disagree with me.
They are my inheritance – but who are the heirs?
Who needs this improbable, almost useless fortune, no matter
               how poor people are,
while the great oppressors maintain and adore others’ poverty?
Why should I collect them (some of them are really pitiful)?
Why should I select them (am I the impartial judge of their
               supposed value)?

Better neglect them, those rags of paper and words, leave them
               on their own.

We disappear in the chilly global warming
of Stepmother Earth …

by Nina Cassian

© Nina Cassian 2008
from Continuum (Anvil, 2008)

Nina Cassian has been living in New York since 1985, when she was warned not to return to Romania, then still under Ceausescu’s iron grip, from a trip abroad. An involuntary exile, she quickly began to learn English – to such good effect that her latest collection of poems is her first composed entirely in English. (Her last collection had mixed her own original English with translations by others, and before that her poems were only published in translations.)

This is perhaps not a typical Cassian poem, but its wry humour is attractive. The apparent modesty about her poems is not, I think, self-deprecatory but a perfectly serious self-assessment of their place in the greater scheme of things. Question: why Stepmother, rather than Mother, Earth?

Anvil Press Poetry was founded in 1968 and publishes English-language poetry and poetry in translation, both classic and modern.

Christy Ring

~ oxfordbrookesuni

He aimed at the impossible
each Sunday on the pitch;
sometimes he succeeded.

Down on one knee,
trapped in the corner of a field,
when his prechristian electronic eye
lit up in combat,
and the ball, a missile,
sped from him straight above the bar,
the air shook in awe.

When a driving lunge
brought him clear beyond
the ruck of men,
and the ball, propelled,
self-destructed in the net
to smithereens of light,
our cheering became a battle cry.

In one moment of raw frenzy
as his playing days ran out,
he summoned Cú Chulainn
to aid him on the pitch:
his trunk swelled up
in sight of thousands,
one eye bulged
and danced, demented…

* Christy Ring was the Babe Ruth of the Irish sport of hurling

by Louis de Paor | translated by the poet

From An Leabhar Mòr: The Great Book of Gaelic, © the author.

Louis de Paor was born in Cork in 1961. His most recent collection is Corcach agus Dánta Eile, which was published in a bilingual edition in Australia as Cork and Other Poems. Other collections include Próca Solais is Luatha, 30 Dán and Aimsir Bhreicneach/Freckled Weather.

Featuring the work of more than 200 poets, calligraphers and artists, An Leabhar Mòr is a unique collection of Irish and Gaelic poetry, from the sixth century to the present day, and includes the earliest Gaelic poem in existence.

Poets include Iain Crichton Smith, Louis de Paor, Sorley MacLean, Aonghas Dubh MacNeacail, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill and Máirtín Ó Direáin. Each poem appears in the original Irish or Gaelic, accompanied by an English translation. The poems were selected by well-known poets Seamus Heaney, Hamish Henderson and Alastair MacLeod, and by the contributing poets themselves. One hundred artists (50 from each country) were specially commissioned to produce an original and individual work of art to complement each poem. They include Robert Ballagh, Steven Campbell, Shane Cullen, Alan Davie, Rita Duffy and Alasdair Gray.

The O’Brien Press is one of Ireland’s leading trade publishers. A wide selection of free teaching resources for this title, together with audio clips of some poets reading their work and musical renditions of some of the poems, is available from the website. This title and all O’Brien Press books are available to buy direct from the website or from Amazon.

Comet

~ oxfordbrookesuni

I walked at night over Fountains Fell under Pen-y-Ghent.
The moor was a still wave and I was riding it,
my head capped in the sky’s metal.

The god was hammering out stars, the hill its anvil.
Where they fell they left a darker trail, 
the glints speeding away in the gill.

Hale-Bopp was a fist of flung glitter, a child’s firework
on black paper, my marker the five miles
from dale to dale.

I never made it to the village,
but lay under the broken eaves of a barn,
watched to see the god unsheathe his sword.

by Sarah Corbett

from Other Beasts, Seren (2008)

From the first sumptuous poem, ‘Birthday’ where the protagonist, running at night, thinks of her body as a “nocturnal bloom”, the reader is immersed in the compelling voice of Sarah Corbett. From her first book, The Red Wardrobe, nominated for both the Forward and the T.S. Eliot Prize, we are familiar with the world she portrays, of the childhood spent in rural North Wales, and the first half of this new collection is devoted mostly to poems that re-create scenes from a youth that was haunted by trouble, but also redeemed by a strong attachment to the beauties of nature, particularly horses, and an early love of reading and culture. In poems like ‘Rivers, Roads’ the two images mesh and intertwine, becoming symbolic and strangely evocative.

This poet bravely eschews lightness and irony for a whole-heartedly passionate and intensely physical response to life. Other Beasts differs from her earlier work in that in the latter half of the collection, she moves away from her own personal history and focuses on in-depth and often scary narratives of other lives. In these poems, such as ‘dreaming history’ she closely identifies with survivors of trauma, in this case the horror of a small girl hiding in a trunk while her family is massacred in a war-torn country. In the long poem ‘Testimony’ she inhabits the voice of Joanne Lees, the woman at the centre of the famously controversial case in Australia where her partner, Peter Falconio, was murdered and she managed, although tied up, to escape into the bush. Another sequence, ‘Cuttings’ weaves a week’s worth of international press cuttings together, creating an alternately horrible, sad, funny and odd tapestry of events.

Sarah Corbett was born in Chester, raised in north Wales, and educated at the Universities of Leeds and East Anglia. This is her third book of poems, following the acclaimed The Red Wardrobe (1998) and The Witch Bag (2002). She has published her poems in a wide selection of magazines and anthologies and has read her work at festivals internationally.

Seren is an independent literary publisher, specialising in English-language writing from Wales. Our diverse and eclectic list has something to offer anyone with an interest in excellent writing. Our aim is not simply to reflect what is going on in the culture in which we publish, but to drive that culture forward, to engage with the world, and to bring Welsh literature, art and politics before a wider audience.

Please visit our website for more information on our authors and titles.

Nár Mhéanar É | Wouldn’t It Be Lovely

~ oxfordbrookesuni

Me on the pillion behind you,
my two arms tight around you,
the motor-bike going fast,
a hundred miles an hour, say,
right through the Phoenix Park,
swifter than deer,
more canty than kine,
at break-of-day or at noon,
with nobody else there
in the whole vast park,
the pair of us bright-naked,
and the bike moving fast
under the light of the sun
in the trees over our heads,
no noise at all from the engine –
only the small sound
of you and me breathing.

by Pearse Hutchinson | translated by the poet

From An Leabhar Mòr: The Great Book of Gaelic, © the author. Reproduced in An Leabhar Mòr by kind permission of the author, from The Soul That Kissed the Body (1990), The Gallery Press.

Pearse Hutchinson was born in Glasgow in 1927, and educated in Dublin. He is a poet in Irish and English and a translator from Catalan, Irish and Galacio-Portuguese. He has two Irish collections – Faoistin Bhacach and Le Cead na Gréine – and many English ones.

Featuring the work of more than 200 poets, calligraphers and artists, An Leabhar Mòr is a unique collection of Irish and Gaelic poetry, from the sixth century to the present day, and includes the earliest Gaelic poem in existence.

Poets include Iain Crichton Smith, Louis de Paor, Sorley MacLean, Aonghas Dubh MacNeacail, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill and Máirtín Ó Direáin. Each poem appears in the original Irish or Gaelic, accompanied by an English translation. The poems were selected by well-known poets Seamus Heaney, Hamish Henderson and Alastair MacLeod, and by the contributing poets themselves. One hundred artists (50 from each country) were specially commissioned to produce an original and individual work of art to complement each poem. They include Robert Ballagh, Steven Campbell, Shane Cullen, Alan Davie, Rita Duffy and Alasdair Gray.

The O’Brien Press is one of Ireland’s leading trade publishers. A wide selection of free teaching resources for this title, together with audio clips of some poets reading their work and musical renditions of some of the poems, is available from the website. This title and all O’Brien Press books are available to buy direct from the website or from Amazon.

Translation

~ oxfordbrookesuni

Take away the hands that held me,
the eyes in which I first saw
love, the mouths from which I learned
to speak.

Take away the house I played in,
the bed I slept in, knowing
they were near. Take their footsteps
from the earth.

Take the city and the sky with it,
the streets I walked looking
for them, take the plane from around me
in mid-air.

See how I land with what they gave me.

Hands that are ready to hold,
eyes in which you will see
love, a mouth that is learning
to speak.

by Gregory Leadbetter

(c) Gregory Leadbetter

From See How I Land: Oxford Poets and Exiled Writers, ed. Carole Angier, Rachel Buxton, Stephanie Kitchen, and Simon White, with a foreword by Shami Chakrabarti (Heaventree Press, 2009)

We’re delighted to begin the current series of Weekly Poems with a poem from See How I Land: Oxford Poets and Exiled Writers – indeed, with the poem which gives the anthology its title.

See How I Land is a collection which brings together the work resulting from the ‘Oxford Poets & Refugees Project’, an initiative of the Brookes Poetry Centre and Oxfordshire charity Asylum Welcome.

The project paired 14 established poets with 14 exiled writers, refugees, and asylum seekers. Greg Leadbetter was one of the poets involved; he worked with Dheere, who came to the UK from Somalia in 1999.

For more information about the project, and to find out how to purchase a copy of See How I Land, please visit the project webpage.

You can also find links on this webpage to some of the other poetry that came out of the project: Bernard O’Donoghue’s ‘Emigration’, a passage from Yousif Qasmiyeh’s ‘Holes’, and Jean-Louis N’Tadi’s ‘Flight of the Writers’.

The pandanus

~ oxfordbrookesuni

hunkered by the beach wall daubed
with the Disney B-list
leached by constant sun – its dusky

loopholes carven of necessity –
overachieves like Caliban,
its trunk a shivalingam

propped, not understood by this
freakishly-enlarged birdcage
of roots with no bird

trapped in it – a listening structure
taps Ariel’s vein with feedback
loops outpacing their own shadows

on the sand, those tiger stripes
crab-strafed with bulletholes
glazed over by high tide.

Aerial roots extrude
their twilight slowly – the Colombo skyline’s
emergent dot dot dot of light

picks out floating green coconuts
arivarl-halved and cursed
with grave-ash, prayer-beads, menses.

Each mist-wall the sea throws up
is capons to the pandanus who knows
the air is crammed with glittering données.

by Vidyan Ravinthiran

from at home or nowhere (2008)

“This poem is about visiting Sri Lanka, where my family’s from, though I was born here in Leeds. There’s a kind of tree there called the pandanus which roots itself in tropical areas, or on the beach, and it’s got aerial roots so it can survive by taking its necessary moisture from the air, not the earth. Those ‘aerial roots’ provided me with a way of talking about my background, or lack thereof, in Sri Lanka. It’s also one of my most helplessly academic poems, and I’m not ashamed of that – with its token allusion to Caliban, its bits and bobs of Shakespeare, an embedded phrase of Marvell’s. I’d like to say I didn’t do all this deliberately – I’ve never wanted to write blatantly self-regarding and ‘difficult’ poetry – but it’s really an expression of who I am, of what I felt as I looked at the tree. To pretend to some kind of more stripped-down authenticity would be false. I didn’t want this poem to be a workshop-type thing, streamlined and unembarrassable.”

Vidyan Ravinthiran was born in Leeds and studies in Oxford where he serves as Poetry Editor of the Oxonian Review. His pamphlet at home or nowhere is published by tall-lighthouse in their pilot series, which is under the editorial guidance of Roddy Lumsden.

tall-lighthouse was founded in 2000. It publishes full collections, pamphlets, chapbooks and anthologies of poetry, and organises poetry readings & events in and around London and South East & South West England, as well as facilitating writing workshops in conjunction with Arts, Education, Library & Community Services.

How to Make a Woman Out of Water

~ oxfordbrookesuni

Move to a boathouse by a river –
the walls must be yellow, the windowsills blue.
Sleep downstairs with your head upstream,
wait for a dream of swimming.

When it rains all night and you lie awake
collecting the music of a leak
and reading The Observer’s Book of Water
until you’ve learned that chapter

on whirlpools and waterspouts by heart,
listen to her whisper and giggle
as she scribbles her slippery name
over and over down the glass.

Have a bucketful of oysters in the sink
in case she’s feeling peckish
and a case of Rainwater sherry
chilling in a cave behind the waterfall.

At the bottom of the well
there’s one white pebble –
put it beneath your tongue
until it dissolves into a kiss.

Become so dry she will slip
into the shape of your thirst.
Prepare to be a shiver on her surface.
Taste her arrival on the wind.

by Charles Bennett

from How to Make a Woman Out of Water (2007)

The title poem of Charles Bennett’s new collection, his first since the highly-acclaimed Wintergreen, is full of sensual magic and supple music. It is charged with power and grace, yet lightened by a wry sense of humour. It is lithe and strongly flowing as water itself, and gives a pure pulse of clarity and drive that runs like an undercurrent through the whole collection. Beguilingly simple and approachable, these poems speak with the fluid voice of water. Vivid explorations of water’s depth, linked to the dark release of deep sleep, culminate in the collection’s central sequence: when one of a pair of lovers falls asleep on a beach, the other muses on the seascape, on lives that flourish on the littoral, and the nature of love itself.

Charles Bennett was born in 1954 and was a mature student in the 1980s at London University and the University of Massachusetts, where he was mentored by Joseph Brodsky and Amy Clampitt. He later wrote his doctorate on Seamus Heaney. He has been virtual poet-in-residence for the National Library of the Blind and until recently director of the Ledbury Poetry Festival. He won the North West Poetry Pamphlet competition for The Mermaid Room and his first collection Wintergreen was published by Headland in 2002.

Founded in 1967, Enitharmon Press publishes fine quality literary editions. While specialising in poetry, we also publish fiction, essays, memoirs, translations, and an extensive list of artists’ books.

Two poems

~ oxfordbrookesuni

MOTHER

What peace
between the folds
of her old black dress, grimy
from blowing into the fire,
peace always
as long as her head
covered my own
with whitened hair.

 Translated by Richard Burns

TICKLED THE LAUGHTER

The memory is dear to me
like the often too short
meals of my hungry childhood.
From hardened hands yellow flour
into boiling water
while the fire
crackling on the stones
tickled the laughter
from my eyes tearful with smoke.

 Translated by Peter Jay and Linda Lappin

by Aldo Vianello

from Selected Poems by Aldo Vianello. Translations by Richard Burns, Peter Jay, and Linda Lappin.

Aldo Vianello is a little-known poet from Venice, now in his early seventies. He has never been abroad; his work is firmly rooted in the city he has loved all his life. His poems are mostly quite short, so I have given two which are connected as they both reflect his childhood and focus on his mother. The second shows how his mainly straightforward style can be suddenly sharpened by a twist of syntax – here, the omission in line 4 of words to the effect of “she poured”, which quicken and dramatize the image.

Vianello’s first English selection, Time of a Flower, translated by Richard Burns, was Anvil’s first publication in 1968. His new, bilingual Selected Poems, with additional translations by Peter Jay and Linda Lappin, appeared in 2008 as part of Anvil’s 40th anniversary celebration.

Anvil Press Poetry was founded in 1968 and publishes English-language poetry and poetry in translation, both classic and modern.

Webcam Sonnet 4. Now

~ oxfordbrookesuni

Film and photograph only show
how it was. You’re seeing how it is,

now, this moment. A moody sunrise
bruising the nimbus above Hammerfest

to a nacreous flush that will never outlast
the next refresh. The very townsfolk

will miss it, unless they chance to look
now, right now. Can you catch his attention,

the man crossing the Torg, head down;
can you make him see one moment of sky

unlike all the others you and he
will walk under today, unlike the moment

passing in Padua, Jaipur, Tashkent,
that you don’t happen to be watching now?

by Sheenagh Pugh

from Long-Haul Travellers, Seren (2008)

Some of the journeys in this collection can be found on maps. But some travellers are journeying from one self to another, like those strange adventurers Murat Reis and Tristan Jones. Some, like Adwaitya the tortoise, have traversed time as well as space. Some travel in dreams. And the longest-haul travellers of all are the dead, like Josephine, whose memory returns to haunt our consciousness and remind us that not all places can be found in the atlas. (Sheenagh Pugh)

Elisions, displacements, journeys, dreams: this new collection of poems by Sheenagh Pugh has a pervasive, elegiac quality. Known for her intriguing narratives, many of these new poems work more by implication than explication. Typical is ‘The Unconversations’ which is a beautiful paean to the shorthand of private references used by a long-married couple. A longer poem, ‘Murat Reis’, chronicles the life of a man who was Dutch, Algerian, Christian, Muslim and many other things according to circumstance and his own whim. History provides vignettes such as ‘Victor’ which mourns the life of a young freed slave in Roman times, via the words and images carved on his gravestone. ‘Webcam Sonnets’ capture the subtle, sometimes poignant, sometimes sad, illusion of intimacy given by webcam contacts.

Sheenagh Pugh is a poet, critic, essayist, lecturer, and author of several works of fiction, non fiction and translation. The winner of many awards, including the Bridport Prize and the Forward Prize, she has published twelve individual collections of poetry, most recently The Movement of Bodies, which was a Poetry Book Society recommendation and also shortlisted for the T S Eliot Prize.

Seren is an independent literary publisher, specialising in English-language writing from Wales. Our diverse and eclectic list has something to offer anyone with an interest in excellent writing. Our aim is not simply to reflect what is going on in the culture in which we publish, but to drive that culture forward, to engage with the world, and to bring Welsh literature, art and politics before a wider audience.

Please visit our website for more information on our authors and titles.