Like nesting dolls indeed, these are poems of tender love and longing which open out to encompass a century or more of family history. They are poems of emigration and alienation, of love and loss, brought alive by the detail in Kathryn Metcalfe’s writing. I particularly liked the longing evoked in ‘Back Court’ where the patch of blue sky grows smaller every day, even ‘weeds would be welcome here’ and the young woman’s sigh is a small brown bird reaching for freedom. In Seanchaidh/Storyteller, the title character comes to life as ‘Ancient campfires burned / in his eyes as he worked / the fabric of hand me down / stories’.
The poems come to us as snapshots, scattered and seemingly random, in much the same way that family history is remembered and shared.
(Jennie Turnbull, Writer)
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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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Linda Devlin’s Clota is a bold rush at the world, like the collection’s namesake: goddess of the River Clyde. A mirrored ball reflecting numerous versions of ourselves and the spaces we occupy, this collection invites the reader to look closer, question ‘laundered thoughts’ and admit the dark truths of damage received or delivered. There is an undeniable fragility but, like the river, currents of strength run deep and fast. Renewal’s All I can do is add my fragment to the whole lingers long after reading. (Morag Anderson, poet)
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‘This is a collection by four women poets: Linda Jackson, Donna Campbell, Tracy Patrick and Lesley Benzie writing about travel and dreams…Each journey is memorably significant to the speaker and evoked in sharp and striking detail.’
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In this superb collection, a pair of Jackdaws build a nest and hatch their young in a ‘gash in one of the window panels’. Fulton unfolds events with deadpan humour, some visceral descriptions, and an unerring eye for concrete detail in this series of short lyrics. He expertly weaves in detail from everyday life, and uncanny observations from the streets of Paisley (‘a sparkly unicorn in a high window’) and beyond (‘a flattened dragonfly/in the centre of a road’) and never once assumes the affection that emerges for ‘Jack and Jill’ is reciprocated. (‘they don’t give a toss/if I’m here or not’). Indeed, Jack’s voice is not one to be messed with. These poems explore the relationship between humankind and nature in an urban environment with wit, craft, profundity, and warmth in an immensely satisfying and positive evocation of nature and new life.
(Andy Breckenridge, poet)
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