Diana Devlin has the ability to let your mind wander randomly here and there through her words, to dump your preconceptions in a ditch and then hold your hand as you turn a corner into another poem of originality and force. This collection by its very title is a full frontal embrace of crafted words. Let her take your hand – you won’t regret it.
(Jim MacKintosh, poet)
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Glasgow: Historical City. A vibrant anthology of the dear green place.
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Jim Ferguson has ten books of poetry already under his belt and this latest collection is a most welcome addition to his vast repertoire. A particular favourite is Domestic Day, a slow meandering through house-hold chores that Ferguson turns into pleasures, whilst the making of soup becomes a meditation in nourishment, soup wae wine, a Vikings shield against the snowfall.
Songs for Lara is more than just a love story, it’s a story of love found between the lines, or in the secret places where we sometimes fear to venture.
(Donna Campbell, poet)
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In this fine first collection of lyric poetry, Goldie explores the contrast between the urban experience - the ravages of post-industrial economic decline, and the liberating, rugged landscapes of Scotland, with a range of precise imagery and deft phrasing that examines the complexities of both, and the relationship between them.
We also glimpse tender family vignettes, which are all the more moving for being set against this wider historical backdrop.
Rhythm is deployed with great skill, and underscores time’s relentless onward movement in Conachair (‘Saint Kilda’s screaming cliffs and stacks,’) and in Sligrachan (‘the screams of ghosts from empty yards/through the pulsing heart of that great city’)
A very impressive debut indeed.
(A Breckenridge, poet)
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'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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