
This collection is a treasure trove of observational poetry that amuses and delights, despite the poet’s claim of ‘I write the poems that are shite’. Far from that, Snuff Bus takes us on a tour of human ballets in working class life. From delving on, around, over and inside bridges, to pissing on Katy Perry, Fulton’s subject matter meanders like a river around philosophical thinking and pound shop multipacks of crisps, with a detour to watch the birds. There’s a sense of the extraordinary about these encounters, an awareness of the watcher being watched and a celebration of the small things, that are really the big things. Do yourself a favour and buy a ticket for this poetic trip woven with hilarity, tenderness and love dressed as a gruff old mannie.
(Jo Gilbert, poet)
£12.00

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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The 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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Charles Bukowski is a master at writing in a similar fashion about the underclasses but Graham Fulton’s work is better by miles. Not a wasted word and each phrase as carefully balanced as a swaying drunk on a bus.
(Des Dillon, writer)
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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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