Friday Poem – The Snow Dome

Friday Poem – The Snow Dome

Seren Books's avatarSeren Books Blog

This week’s poem is from Paul Henry’s fifth collection, Ingrid’s Husband, first published in 2007.

Here is a book of ghosts, from the mysterious traveller in the title poem who, mistaken for another man, starts to crave his new alter ego, to the first person of ‘Between Two Bridges’, Henry’s long poem on Newport, who follows his teenage ghost across the city for a night:

He pulls away. The wind puts its lips to an arcade.
A seagull on a barber’s pole waits to open its blades.

How the living haunt themselves is the concern of Ingrid’s Husband, and the author discovers his spirits through an imagery of absences: a child’s signature in the dust of an old guitar; the stone plinth where a cafe once stood; a white balloon drifting down a shopping arcade; a chateau, still furnished with belongings of its vanished owner…. Love continues to…

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Criminally Good Reads

Criminally Good Reads

Seren Books's avatarSeren Books Blog

I don’t know about you, but when the colder months roll around I always find myself more inclined to pick up a thriller or a good ol’ fashioned whodunnit. There’s a strange kind of comfort in cracking open a book featuring thieves, drug dealers and serial killers whilst snuggled up under a warm blanket with a lovely mug of hot chocolate, knowing that no matter how bad life might seem at times you’re at least better off than whoever you’re reading about.

If you’re anything like me, dear reader, and you do enjoy a bit of detective work at this time of year then you’re in luck! Here at Seren we have a few books that might just peak your interest.

Dark_Mermaids_Web72
Dark Mermaids

by Anne Lauppe-Dunbar

Unhappy West Berlin police officer Sophia is called on to investigate the murder of her childhood friend Käthe, after her beaten body is discovered in…

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100 Dutch Language Poets selected & translated by Paul Vincent and John Irons (Holland Park Press 2015)

100 Dutch Language Poets selected & translated by Paul Vincent and John Irons (Holland Park Press 2015)

tearsinthefence's avatarTears in the Fence

Dutch poetry is not that well known outside of the Netherlands. This selection of Dutch poems written between the eleventh century and 2013 is a useful introduction to the themes and issues that inspired Dutch poets over a millennium. It has a similar scope to the Kaleidoscope anthology, edited by Martijn Zwart and Ethel Grene, in 1998. Here the original Dutch text and English translations, by the editors, are presented side by side. No one poet has more than a single poem. The editors, both educated in Modern Languages at Cambridge in the early Sixties, provide a detailed note outlining their predilection based on their reading and teaching. They have attempted to produce a notional canon of ‘important’ works with a series of informing balances between earlier and later, male and female, North and South. They commendably have included a good number of female poets as well as a chronological…

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Titles by Adrienne Silcock

reubenwoolley's avatarI am not a silent poet

(one week on from 13th November 2015)

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if

whilst idly turning pages

in an anthology

absorbing titles and maybe

the shape of a poem,

though not the essence

or its density or detail,

or if,

whilst wandering through a gallery

gazing at the small print beside paintings –

the name, the date,

and passing the frame

with only the vaguest impression of colour,

blasted by the hurry of our own small needs,

but leaving behind

points of light, the point

of those magical brushstrokes,

wouldn’t it be wonderful if

we might come to understand

what it truly is

to be human, the complexities

and, perhaps, how we owe it to ourselves

to pause, to delve a little, to learn,

like now, thinking about

the world

and all its rage

and titles that say something

but are only a small indication of the whole

inclining us…

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When by Leanne Moden

reubenwoolley's avatarI am not a silent poet

When people use fund-raising and donations,

As ways to pacify their rising guilt.

When trafficking destroys a generation,

And shelters are unfunded and unbuilt.

When children under ten are mutilated

For sinful natures they do not possess.

When bodies are both lusted for and hated,

And violence is blamed on how she’s dressed.

..

When healthcare is denied to those who need it,

And twisted morals fuel indignities.

When foul abuse remains an open secret

And all of us display complicity.

When shame is used to drown dissenting voices,

And threats of death are served to those who speak.

When we are all denounced for all our choices,

Deriding and defamed for being weak.

..

When half of us are crying out for freedom,

And rape is just another act of war.

How can we say that we’re all truly equal?

The damage runs too deep to be ignored.

When…

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We Pity Them by George Szirtes

reubenwoolley's avatarI am not a silent poet

We are
concerned, of course,
mortified even, but
we wouldn’t want them near us as
things stand.

They are
unsocialised.
Their wishes and desires
are wrong. They’re a potential
danger.

Let them
talk to the right
professionals. Let them
talk through their unfitness for us,
for life.

Once they
are no longer
themselves we will love them
the way we consider they should
be loved.

Because
we can’t love them
the way they are let them
talk through how they might be more what
we love.

We want
them to be safe
and happy the way we
want them to be safe and happy.
Like that.

Surely
with a little
adjustment they would be
perfectly useful citizens,
not dead.

Let them
talk and be like
us by talking the way
we talk about ourselves to each
other.

We feel
pity for them.
That is noble of us.
It is to…

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13 November 2015 to 16 November 2015 by Helen May Williams

reubenwoolley's avatarI am not a silent poet

pebbles on a beach

cubes in an underground vault

human lives lived in

interstices of cement —

blocks of space & blocks of time

 ..

friday the thirteenth —

lately there is no exit

no waking dream no

ingenious solution

to resolve nightmare deadlock

 ..

Bataclan Paris

organised barbarism —

paleolithic curse

two tribes live side by side

each one the barbarians

 ..

‘ . . . gunman in the eye

he was young in his twenties

calmly reloading’

 ..

whorled calcium shells

dissolve into fatal white dust

clouds of destruction

 ..

‘ran to lighting room

right of stage —ten people there

there was no exit

we had run from one trap to

next —  we waited for silence

 ..

‘. . . . reloading their guns

so we ran across the stage

saw them firing on

piles of people in the room

my eyes saw scene of carnage

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