For All the Ghosts That Live In Me
Mark Vernon Thomas is a powerhouse of a poet. The evidence is apparent throughout this impressive collection, one which will certainly further enhance his reputation. What impresses is the wide range and variety of his work, imbued with a keen intelligence, bravura energy and playful inventiveness. Entertaining, thought
provoking, at times poignant and moving, the writing seamlessly veers from deployed humour and satire worthy of a stand-up comedian to poems of finely tuned lyricism.
This is a book that will make you sit up and pay attention.
(David Mark Williams, poet)
£10.00
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Wanderlust Women: Extra BaggageThe three poets in this collection have a lot in common. They’re gritty, tough, their observation is born of personal experience, not all of it pleasant. That is recommendation enough but there are many moments too of pure revelation. Donna Campbell’s pearls brimming with moonlight that are the bi-product of pain, the stark beauty of Lesley Benzie’s poem about a father’s death ‘Fan she an her sester met their faither’s unbent gaze…’ and Linda Jackson picking up ‘petals of words from smart-dressed lovers’. Such simple beauty is not easily achieved. At its best poetry can be both empathetic and transformative. This is it, at its best.
(Hugh McMillan, poet)
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Barga: Scottish Poets on Retreat
Dr Linda Jackson set up a Writing Retreat in Barga, Tuscany and the poetic outcomes have now been placed in this small book.
Barga: the town, the families and the artistic community.
It is all in here.
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Fessen
'What a welcome second collection from Lesley Benzie. Fessen is a total delight. She melds her native N-east Scots with English in writing which is a keen observation of both the outside world and a close scrutiny of human behaviour and relationship. Her language is muscular, strong, yet tender.
She is interested in everything we know of life...walking on the high cliffs of Catterline remembering Joan Eardley, guillemots...perched on tiny ledges facin intae the scarp/like they hiv come tae worship/at the wailin waa...burnt umber plumage/like oiled velvet...and that final homage... a wee prayer for the coastline/that pressed itsel intae Joan's hairt.'
(Sheila Templeton, Poet)
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