tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48864348995353560782024-01-09T15:04:02.015-08:00Young British Poets | A poetry blog and online journal | Now open for submissionsA poetry blog and online journal devoted to new British poetry | Submissions welcome, please read our guidelines | File under: Contemporary British PoetryUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-49830095062442555632014-11-10T13:37:00.003-08:002014-11-10T13:37:59.762-08:00dead end<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
The nuts and bolts we cracked together<br>
With petty passion, foggy eyes and messy hair<br>
Under the bright light of high efficiency led bulbs<br>
In the opposite of a hurry, in cozy laziness and despair<br>
<br>
The bold assumption of a dream-like affair<br>
Sudden tremor, the maniac soulless motion<br>
Of turning gears shy of themselves, all spikes<br>
Oiled and greased with scentless potion<br>
<br>
Behold! The engine's roaring beauty<br>
A thousand thunders, a gimmick<br>
Looming in the dark thick air<br>
Of that naked summer night in Brunswick<br>
<br>
Deficit means I am not enough<br>
Derelict means I am old and crippled<br>
Do not disturb means I may be taking a nap<br>
Download now means another record has been ripped<br>
<br>
It was the end of the road, a dead end<br>
The road not taken better remained that way<br>
<br>
<br>
<b>gavin thorpe</b> (Whiston, Merseyside, 1978)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-61404032488431387402014-11-04T13:03:00.001-08:002014-11-04T13:04:31.374-08:00the dylan thomas quiz<br>
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<br>
the centennial of Dylan Thomas's birth is being commemorated with events, readings and exhibitions everywhere. the guardian chose to join the celebrations with a quiz, where you can test your knowledge of his life and work. take it now!
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<br>
<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/quiz/2014/oct/27/quiz-dylan-thomas-centenary-100-birthday">100 years of Dylan Thomas – quiz (The Guardian)</a>
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<b>Further reading:</b>
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/24/books/a-dylan-thomas-centennial-in-new-york.html">Remembering a Seducer (The New York Times)</a>
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<br>
<a href="http://dylanthomas100.org/english/home/">Dylan Thomas Festival</a>
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<a href="http://www.dylanthomas.com/">Dylan Thomas, the official website</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-41419801253806850642012-01-11T15:07:00.000-08:002012-01-11T15:41:32.897-08:00the mind of the mature poet<br><br /><br><br /><br><br /><big>"[T]he mind of the mature poet differs from that of the immature one not precisely in any valuation of 'personality', not being necessarily more interesting, or having 'more to say', but rather by being a more finely perfected medium in which special, or very varied, feelings are at liberty to enter into new combinations."</big><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">t.s. eliot</span> (St. Louis, MO, USA, 1888-London, England, 1965), excerpt from <span style="font-style:italic;">Tradition and the Individual Talent</span> (1919), as quoted in <span style="font-style:italic;">Mrs Dalloway and the Feminist Revision of Male Modernism</span>, by Merry M. Pawlowski, published as an introduction to Virgina Woolf's <span style="font-style:italic;">Mrs Dalloway</span>, Wordsworth Editions, Hertfordshire, 2003<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Further reading:</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.bartleby.com/200/sw4.html">Tradition and the Individual Talent (Bartleby.com)</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com74tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-767154405368332622011-11-25T05:39:00.000-08:002011-11-25T05:49:38.721-08:00final weeks for 2011 poetry submissions<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />Our reading period is coming to an end. Deadline for 2011 is <b>December 15th</b>. Materials sent after this date will not be considered until the Young British Poets staff resumes poetry reviews on <span style="font-weight:bold;">February 1st, 2012</span>.<br /><br />Want to submit? Please read our guidelines <a href="http://youngbritishpoets.blogspot.com/2008/09/coming-soon.html">here</a>.<br /><br /><br /><b>kevin bacon</b><br />Editor, YBPUnknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-77228936923965049702011-11-24T07:58:00.000-08:002011-11-24T08:25:39.047-08:00Slightly Foxed Young Writers’ Competition<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />If you enjoy writing about the books you love, then this is a great opportunity to get your work noticed. <a href="http://www.foxedquarterly.com/" target=_blank><span style="font-style:italic;">Slightly Foxed</span></a>, "the real reader's quarterly", is calling all young writers to participate in its Young Writers’ Competition. The magazine covers all genres of fiction and non-fiction, including poetry and short story collections, and the books it features aren’t latest publications or big sellers. "We’re interested in books that have somehow slipped from notice but which have meant something to the people who write about them", they say. <br />Entries should be submitted in Microsoft Word format to youngwriters@foxedquarterly.com until January 15th, 2012. Read the full competition guidelines <a href="http://www.foxedquarterly.com/home/young-writers" target=_blank>here</a>.<br /><br /><b>First prize:</b> winner receives £ 250 and is granted the publication of the winning article in <span style="font-style:italic;">Slightly Foxed</span>, Summer 2012, plus a one-year subscription, a <span style="font-style:italic;">Slightly Foxed</span> book bag and <span style="font-style:italic;">The Chambers Dictionary</span>, 12th edition<br /><br /><b>Deadline:</b> January 15th, 2012Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-9032430020078942402011-11-22T07:46:00.000-08:002011-11-22T08:03:00.797-08:00nikolai<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />And I will collect your stories, Papa, <br />like one of your Byzantine hagiographers<br />And you’ll sing again with your guitar at the kitchen table.<br />When it’s late and everyone has had too much cognac,<br />your hair looking so sorry about time and illness–<br /><br />In an apartment block, snowfall batters windows<br />Through a darkened corridor, a cat slinks along a wall<br />A toddler peels back wallpaper to lick at the plaster, eyes half shut<br />searching for calcium.<br /><br />A boy runs into a water logged field, his shoes are inverse boats<br />And he opens his lungs and screams<br />screams,<br />for joy, <br /><br />for love of open space.<br /><br /><br /><b>varia karipoff</b> (Melbourne, Australia, 1983)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-4234182226513589542011-11-21T05:36:00.000-08:002011-11-21T05:39:05.889-08:00quitting cheese<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />My discontentment resides in Nottingham<br />along with some choice pubs <br />and a favourite day: The Tap, The Stage, <br />a trip to the park one afternoon<br />when everything was fresh; the clouds<br />shrugged out a little rain, the sun<br />huffed around them, our eyeballs<br />beamed, an animated white. <br /><br />Picnicking was rife: foragers<br />raided the shrubbery, old relics<br />handed-out hippy wisdom and we<br />feasted on each other, spinning <br />the conversational equivalent<br />of a Roly-Poly; living ubiquitously, <br />drinking a lot - I wasn’t, <span style="font-style:italic;">even once</span>, <br />an arsehole, just overused memory.<br /><br />When we revisited Nottingham<br />the gaggle had gone and the winds<br />came and scraped against our bones;<br />we are a banquet folding<br />into a cheese cube too many, <br />bellyache, that fateful feeling<br />of having peaked too early.<br /><br /><br /><b>michael pedersen</b> (Edinburgh, Scotland, 1984)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-89204506300437687312011-11-18T03:26:00.000-08:002011-11-18T03:29:48.705-08:004 am poem, 2 july 2008<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />It is Wednesday. The taxi is outside,<br />Humming like a hairdryer, and you are<br />Yet to leave for Holland. I can still taste<br />Last night’s chickpeas and cuttlefish,<br />The Fume Blanc, the flavour of you.<br />I have barely aged in two days, despite<br />The details of my birth certificate,<br />And as I sleepily ponder the necessity<br />Of poetic license, how writing poems<br />Is akin to fibbing to others and particularly yourself,<br />Just as every musical needs a chorus line,<br />And in Hollywood there's a girl for every geek,<br />All the birds in the street suddenly burst into song<br />As you, going, close one door and open another,<br />Proving me wrong, once again.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">alexander williamson</span> (Sandbach, Cheshire, 1979)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-39459834879299095582011-11-17T13:08:00.000-08:002011-11-17T13:23:27.035-08:00darklight<span style="font-style:italic;">for S.E.</span><br /><br><br /><br><br /><br><br />Waking and rising in the January darklight,<br />I recall the morning when we didn’t watch the dawn.<br />That was when I realised it was winter; now we’re past<br />the solstice and night’s pendulum no longer swings as<br />far as it did. Soon the both of us will have to grow<br />accustomed to light pressing on our eyelids, to light<br />rousing us from dreams. By the time I’ve scrubbed and lathered <br />the sleep from my skin, the sky’s already indigo.<br />(When I leave the house the world’s already there, ready <br />and waiting for me, but the sky is muffled up in <br />thick grey clouds. I wear a scarf. It’s cold).<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">anthony adler</span> (St Albans, Hertfordshire, 1990)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-63008510735976728282011-11-16T11:29:00.000-08:002011-11-16T11:38:14.403-08:00francis<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />Funny that you are an artist because you think like one touch like one as you describe my<br />Chiaroscuro cheeks in awe of the light the shade around us the sheets swirl unmade a<br />Van Gogh night sky but we are still to better see the speed the beams bounce it all goes<br />Back to the body everything is for us to consume we make it that way it is all for eyes ears<br />Nose mouth hands guts brain heart spirit soars as you caress my contours I sense the<br />Sculptor in you stroking away at the stone shedding the stubbornness finding human form<br />Beneath suspended Woodman delicate disgusting transcendental trickery can you feel<br />Your blood quickening dribbling drying rich russet paint that makes sense of this blank<br />Canvas the way you arrange and divide my sight my attention with your skill your hands<br />How have you sown planted nourished these thoughts Pollock surprise heartlight shines<br />Brighter now I know how you see me a beauty similar to art itself not always attractive but<br />Always challenging the grotesque is sacred why else decorate churches with gargoyles<br /><br /><br /><b>emily s. morgan</b> (Cambridge, 1990)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-472750412184914012011-10-20T11:35:00.000-07:002011-10-20T11:47:51.249-07:00a reflective poem<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />What's that? The sunglasses?<br />Well I have to wear them,<br />I’m reading poetry outside<br />And I’m sure you know<br />That of all the literary forms<br />Poetry is the most reflective.<br /><br />Why? Well that’s obvious isn’t it?<br />Those verses, stanzas, haikus <br />They take up barely any room at all.<br />Even epic masterpieces<br />Tend to be confined <br />To the left hand side of the page.<br /><br />This slim volume of poems contains<br />Considerably more brilliant white surface<br />Than it does absorbent inky scribbles.<br />Hence the sunglasses.<br /><br />And what about the cowboy hat?<br />The leather jacket? The boots? And all that<br />Rouge and mascara? My delicately painted nails?<br />What about them? <br />Oh well I guess that I’m just a poser.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">james price</span> (Preston, Lancashire, 1987)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-36104246950868068002011-10-18T10:10:00.000-07:002011-10-18T10:10:30.596-07:00with divine ovation<br>
<br>
<br>
As a resident of Brinsworth,<br>
she enjoyed the acreage and courtesies<br>
of the artistes’ benevolent fund;<br>
a sixty-four-fold companionship; reciting<br>
nightly, verbatim, alongside coupons<br>
from occupants and the jaunted<br>
pastiche of their loyal visitants.<br>
<br>
Colin, a fan first and nurse after,<br>
makes an impromptu stop<br>
ensuing her missed appointment<br>
with Earl Grey and buttered<br>
crumpets - there lies <i>Eloise</i>,<br>
decubitus and stone cold dead.<br>
<br>
A more courtly passing<br>
you couldn’t have ask for, not<br>
tethered by wires nor sprawled<br>
across iron, like pets on vets’ tables,<br>
but serene, elegant, at ease.<br>
<br>
Colin shuts the door,<br>
lifts the rejected analgesia<br>
– morphine, a syringe-pump –<br>
and self-administers the full 10 mls;<br>
on closing her eyes, mouths<br>
<i>Bravo Eloise</i> – now taking his seat<br>
for the encore.<br>
<br>
<br>
<b>michael pedersen</b> (Edinburgh, Scotland, 1984)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-73540004091207699702011-10-17T10:41:00.000-07:002011-10-17T10:42:54.678-07:00when the track divides<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />When the track divides,<br />Shall we take it upon ourselves to divide also? <br />Or shall we hold on,<br />til our arms are outstretched<br />And our fingers reach out, <br />Like hopeless tendrils for hopeless love?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">martha rowsell</span> (Camberwell, London, 1987)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-19324903753461242672011-10-12T10:59:00.000-07:002011-10-12T11:06:45.486-07:00transition<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />Silent stillness a heartbeat in the air your only<br />Pulse in the world at this moment in time mesmerised<br />By the tiny mechanical <span style="font-style:italic;">Clack clack</span> of clockwork days<br />Recent surf going out and in a delicate <span style="font-style:italic;">Shh</span> <br />Over thick heavy empty sand Starry <br />Slush in its eyes like the skies it stares at all night – <br />We remember driving like lunatics<br />Half-drunk freedom soldiers out to seduce the world<br />With our radioactive blood – A distant orange summer<br />Slick hot and golden and full of eerie practise<br />Of life and practising death by bottle screaming and screaming<br />Butterflies every now and then in some bold wonderland<br />With sharp enemy fronts held by our explosive eyesight<br />That never stopped seeing<br />Everything wide-eyed and in a daze no doubt<br />Some unwelcome Vega to come and ruin it<br />And you said something along the lines of:<br />“What’s the point?” I don’t know. <br />Why don’t you know? But you calmed down <br />We took turns going crazy sometimes<br />I climbed a fence and fell off, then a tree<br />At 2 am in the South of England: I grew up you grew up<br />We all grew up<br />Eyebrows raised and set forward<br />On the horizon where “stuff” was happening –<br />Separate ways – there and then meeting again –<br />If only we took serious new times: happening now.<br />We pass the time around like a bottle of mixed cocktails<br />And where are you going with that <br />Gun in your hand, born victims with robotic eyes:<br />Purple skies of vitamin appear in morning<br />Before work at 6:15 am, it’s a slow change you got there<br />Transition onto next raining slowly grinning.<br /><br /><br /><b>michael holloway</b> (Liverpool, 1985)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-33661872366636548712011-08-19T09:25:00.000-07:002011-08-19T09:30:18.455-07:00keats<br>
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<br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/26670910?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="468" height="263" frameborder="0"></iframe>
<br /><br>
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<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">keats</span>, by <b>emily s. morgan</b> (Cambridge, 1990)
<br />directed by <b>guy smith</b> (Blantyre, 1990)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-3627933374938148742011-08-17T14:23:00.000-07:002011-10-14T16:21:51.701-07:00yet another ranking: poetry's most poignant lines<br><br /><br><br /><br><br /><a href="http://www.stylist.co.uk/" target=_blank>Stylist</a>, the free weekly magazine aimed at <a href="http://www.prweek.com/news/947171/Stylist-magazine-storms-free-title-scene/" target=_blank>"affluent career women"</a>, has just posted on its website a ranking of "the 50 most poignant lines of poetry ever written", under the embarrasing subtitle "Unforgettable quotes from the world's greatest wordsmiths".<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Read it here:</span><br /><a href="http://www.stylist.co.uk/life/50-of-poetrys-most-poignant-lines">http://www.stylist.co.uk/life/50-of-poetrys-most-poignant-lines</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-56589485176908952802010-05-27T18:33:00.000-07:002010-05-27T18:45:58.273-07:00submissions wanted<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />The Young British Poets blog accepts submissions from poets born on or after july 20, 1969, from all countries in The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the Commonwealth of Nations.<br /><br />Please send two to six unpublished poems written in English to this e-mail address: youngpoetsblog@gmail.com. Contributions are accepted in an <span style="font-style:italic;">ad honorem</span> basis.<br /><br />Read our full <a href="http://youngbritishpoets.blogspot.com/2008/09/coming-soon.html">submission guidelines</a> for further details.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Young British Poets Team</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-75646561160162936322009-12-06T15:55:00.000-08:002009-12-06T15:59:52.626-08:00to earn a living from selling your poetry:extremely unlikely<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />"Poetry is a broad church, and more people write it than read it. Even more people read it than buy it. The market for selling poetry is, in relation to the total book trade, an extremely small one, and it is complex, fragmented, well-managed and highly competitive. Because of this, it is notoriously difficult to coordinate a sustainable economic model for contemporary writing. You will be extremely unlikely to earn a living from selling your poetry. However, you may earn money from a range of cultural projects related to ‘acting’ as a poet, and some writers seek to earn their incomes from running workshops or courses, teaching English or Creative Writing, making festival appearances, giving paid readings, taking on residencies, and becoming cultural commentators and critics."<br /><br /><b>Chris Hamilton-Emery</b> (Manchester, 1963), excerpted from <em>101 Ways to Make Poems Sell: The Salt Guide to Getting and Staying Published</em> (Salt Publishing, 2006)<br /><br /><b>Further reading:</b><br /><br /><a href="http://www.saltpublishing.com/books/sgrw/1844711161.htm">101 Ways to Make Poems Sell (Salt Publishing)</a> <br /><br /><a href="http://books.google.com.uy/books?id=BpMYTEOveMAC&lpg=PP1&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q=&f=false">101 Ways to Make Poems Sell (Google Books)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.saltpublishing.com/info/submissions.htm">Chris Hamilton-Emery Offers Advice on How to Make Poetry Submissions (Salt Publishing)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.myspace.com/chris_emery">Chris Hamilton-Emery's MySpace profile</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-52862622575997502962009-08-17T20:45:00.000-07:002009-08-17T20:46:27.616-07:00The Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize 2009<br><br /><br><br /><br><br /><a href="http://waywiser-press.com/index.html">The Waywiser Press</a> is now accepting submissions of poetry manuscripts for the fifth annual <a href="http://waywiser-press.com/hechtprize2009.html">Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize</a>, named after <b>Anthony Hecht</b> (New York City, NY, 1923–Washington, DC, 2004), American poet and essayist, winner of a Pulitzer Prize and inventor of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_dactyl">double dactyl</a>, a humorous poetic form which begins with two three-syllable nonsense words such as "Higgledy, piggledy."<br /><br />Entrants must be at least 18 years of age and may not have published more than one previous collection of poems. Manuscripts must be written in English. There is an entry fee of $25 for residents of the USA and £15 for entrants in the rest of the world. Read the full guidelines <a href="http://waywiser-press.com/hechtprize2009.html">here</a>.<br /><br /><b>Prizes:</b><br /><br />The winner receives $ 3,000 or £ 1,750 and publication of the winning manuscript by Waywiser Press, both in the United States and in the United Kingdom.<br /><br /><b>Postmark deadline:</b> December 1st, 2009.<br /><br /><br /><b>Further reading:</b><br /><br /><a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/topics/reference/timestopics/people/h/anthony_hecht/index.html">Times Topics: Anthony Hecht (The New York Times)</a><br /><br />Anthony Hecht at <a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/46">poets.org</a>, <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=3038">The Poetry Foundation</a> and the <a href="http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/g_l/hecht/hecht.htm">English Department at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-90468704793098349282009-07-21T01:27:00.000-07:002009-12-06T16:01:53.179-08:00the last of the commune dwellers<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />"Gunn, who died in 2004, began his career as a hot young poet in England (he published his first book, “Fighting Terms,” when he was only 25) and was generally associated with the taut, plainspoken aesthetic favored by writers like Philip Larkin and Donald Davie. In 1954, he left England for San Francisco, where he eventually settled after studying with Yvor Winters at Stanford. Gunn embraced the city’s bohemian lifestyle — Edmund White called him “the last of the commune dwellers ... serious and intellectual by day and druggy and sexual by night” — and he grew increasingly interested in syllabics and free verse even as he continued to hone the metrical forms that distinguished his early career."<br /><br /><b>David Orr</b> on <b><a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/109">Thom Gunn</a></b> (Gravesend, Kent, 1929-San Francisco, CA, 2004), excerpt from <em><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/books/review/Orr-t.html">Too Close to Touch</a></em>, published in the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/pages/books/review/index.html">Sunday Book Review</a>, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/">The New York Times</a>, July 10, 2009<br /><br /><br /><b>Further reading:</b><br /><br />Poems by Thom Gunn on <a href="http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=7086">The Poetry Archive</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2003/sep/27/featuresreviews.guardianreview13">Profile: Moving voice (The Guardian)</a><br /><br />A Poet's life, <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2005/04/25/DDGUFCD4SP1.DTL">part one</a>, <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2005/04/26/DDGQMCDQ941.DTL">part two</a> (San Francisco Chronicle)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-21783869183398220962009-05-05T15:18:00.000-07:002009-12-06T16:02:35.200-08:00Carol Ann Duffy, Poet Laureate<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />Last Friday, Carol Ann Duffy was appointed Poet Laureate, the first woman to hold the title in the post's 341-year history. She succeeds Andrew Motion as Laureate and is appointed for a fixed-term of ten years. Duffy, 53, was born in Glasgow and spent her school years in Stafford. She studied philosophy at the University of Liverpool. Best known for her collection <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Worlds-Wife-Carol-Ann-Duffy/dp/033037222X">The World's Wife</a>, she won the <a href="http://www.poetrybooksociety.org.uk/tseliot.html">T.S. Eliot prize</a> for <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rapture-Carol-Ann-Duffy/dp/0330433911">Rapture</a>. Duffy said that she will give the £5,750 annual payment away but has clearly stated that she will personally enjoy the 600 bottles of sherry traditionally given to the Laureate.<br /><br />* * *<br /><br />"Poetry can't be documentary. I'm not sure that any of the arts should be — but poetry, above all, is a series of intense moments — its power is not in narrative. I'm not dealing with facts, I'm dealing with emotion."<br /><br /><b>Carol Ann Duffy</b> (Glasgow, 1955), as quoted by <a href="http://www.jeanettewinterson.com/">jeanette winterson</a> in <a href="http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/books/article561469.ece?token=null&offset=0&page=1">The Times</a>, September 3, 2005 <br /><br /><br /><b>Further reading:</b><br /><br /><a href="http://nds.coi.gov.uk/content/detail.asp?ReleaseID=400348&NewsAreaID=2">Carol Ann Duffy appointed new Poet Laureate (NDS)</a> <br /><br /><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8027767.stm">First female Poet Laureate named (BBC News)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8022790.stm">Profile: Carol Ann Duffy (BBC News)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/may/01/carol-ann-duffy-poet-laureate1">Carol Ann Duffy becomes first woman poet laureate (The Guardian)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2006/jan/20/poetry.books">Profile: Carol Ann Duffy (The Guardian)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/books/article6210786.ece">Carol Ann Duffy: The original good line girl (The Sunday Times)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/features/carol-ann-duffy-a-poet-laureate-with-a-twist-1674745.html">Carol Ann Duffy: A poet laureate with a twist (The Independent)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.carolannduffy.co.uk/">carolannduffy.co.uk</a><br /><br />Poetry by Carol Ann Duffy at <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/carol-ann-duffy">The Guardian</a>, <a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/incomingFeeds/article778144.ece">Times Online</a> and <a href="http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=11468">The Poetry Archive</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-28838135809375566292008-12-30T11:52:00.000-08:002012-01-11T15:46:35.571-08:00Harold Pinter (1930-2008)<br><br /><br><br /><br><br /><big>"In 1958 I wrote the following: 'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.' I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?"</big><br /><br /><b>harold pinter</b> (London, 1930-2008), an excerpt from <em>Art, Truth & Politics</em>, his <a href="http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2005/pinter-lecture-e.html">Nobel Lecture</a>, shown on video on December 7, 2005, in Börssalen at the Swedish Academy in Stockholm<br /><br /><br /><b>Further reading:</b><br /><br /><a href="http://www.haroldpinter.org">HaroldPinter.org</a><br /><br />Pinter at <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/pinter">The Guardian</a>, <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/1805113.stm">BBC News</a>, <a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/p/harold_pinter/index.html">The New York Times</a>, <a href="http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=2991">The Poetry Archive</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-22732218420306621212008-11-26T11:45:00.000-08:002008-11-26T12:17:48.058-08:00too short, too late, too close to nowhere<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />is it ever possible to unfold a letter<br />with broken teeth?<br />will it matter?<br />nothing comes across<br /><br />shame on you storyteller<br />crippled and thirsty<br />nothing comes across<br />i am numb<br /><br />after being mugged, ditched, raped<br />scolded by parents, making waves<br />reaching out to the outskirts<br />will it matter?<br /><br />put my teeth to paper and utter<br />hopeless words when i read aloud<br />too short, coming too late<br />standing close to nowhere <br /><br /><br /><b>julia hoggard</b> (Manchester, 1979)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-91388252085321722462008-10-28T16:10:00.000-07:002008-10-28T16:12:28.764-07:00what we look for<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />Poetry is a game with no rules. And reviewing of poetic materials is not a scientific matter. However, here at <a href="http://youngbritishpoets.blogspot.com/">Young British Poets</a> we have come up with a few guidelines that serve our editorial team as common ground for submissions assessment.<br /><br />This is what we look for:<br /><br /><b>A distinct voice</b>. It does not matter whether poetry is about eggplants, elevators, turnips or monster trucks. It does not matter if it is yet another poem about love lost, loneliness or despair. But we do care about finding distinct voices that tell us about what we already know in a new, different way.<br /><br /><b>An eye catching title</b>. The title of a poem is like a movie poster. It may make you curious about what it is "promoting". So we love well crafted, smart, witty or plain silly and playful titles.<br /><br /><b>A great beginning, an even greater ending</b>. If a poem grabs you from the neck right from the start you will probably keep reading it until the very final verse, where we love to find a bold, elegant, significant ending, something that reads like "Thanks for traveling with us", or maybe even "Rot in hell".<br /><br /><b>Flow, rhythm</b>. Was the travel soft and easy, was it rocky and rough, was it fast, slow paced... we enjoy all types of rides, as long as it is a real, compelling ride.<br /><br /><b>Emotional impact</b>. We read poems to ourselves, we read them aloud, we look for snippets that we like within the poem, we dissect and reassemble, we read poetry upside down... but in the end all we are looking for is emotion, in the widest and wildest of senses.<br /><br /><br />Kevin Bacon<br />Editor, YBPUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886434899535356078.post-63603138329674056232008-09-19T10:18:00.000-07:002009-12-06T16:06:02.686-08:00the ear is the best reader<br><br /><br><br /><br><br />"When Frost said 'the ear is the best reader' he didn't mean to say that he preferred the fleeting voice to the substantial page, but to give them both equal value, and to remind us how they depended on one another. The point can be proved very easily. A poem creates its effects not simply by sharing an explicable meaning with its reader, but by dramatising that meaning and making it intimate - by the musicality (or not) of the words, by rhythm, by rhyme, by recurring patterns of sound, by disruptions, and by the movement and evolution of tone through a whole piece of work. It is a demonstration of harmonies, in all sorts of ways. More than that, even, the sound of a poem can actually become its meaning"<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.uktouring.org.uk/andrewmotion/"><b>Andrew Motion</b></a> (London, 1952), an excerpt from the article <a href="http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/listenPoetry.do"><em>Listening to Poetry</em></a>, published at <a href="http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/home.do">The Poetry Archive</a>, a comprehensive and expanding archive of recordings of poets reading their own work, available online for free<br /><br /><br /><b>Further reading:</b><br /><br /><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/4482824.stm">Classic poets' voices go online (BBC)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/4524646.stm">Motion cheers online poem archive (BBC)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/books/article4768300.ece">Andrew Motion celebrates the rise and rise of the Poetry Archive (The Times)</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2006/nov/30/news.sarahcrown">Poetry Archive unveils lost voices (The Guardian)</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1