Bright Travellers e-bog
108,68 DKK
(inkl. moms 135,85 DKK)
Winner of the 2015 Geoffrey Faber Memorial PrizeWinner of the 2015 Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry Prize for First Full CollectionShortlisted for the 2015 T. S. Eliot PrizeShortlisted for the 2014 Forward Prize for Best First CollectionIn this remarkable, intensely moving, first collection, Fiona Benson shows her fascination with human experience. The poems move on archaeological fast-forward f...
E-bog
108,68 DKK
Forlag
Vintage Digital
Udgivet
1 maj 2014
Længde
80 sider
Genrer
Modern and contemporary poetry (c 1900 onwards)
Sprog
English
Format
epub
Beskyttelse
LCP
ISBN
9781448191406
Winner of the 2015 Geoffrey Faber Memorial PrizeWinner of the 2015 Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry Prize for First Full CollectionShortlisted for the 2015 T. S. Eliot PrizeShortlisted for the 2014 Forward Prize for Best First CollectionIn this remarkable, intensely moving, first collection, Fiona Benson shows her fascination with human experience. The poems move on archaeological fast-forward from submerged Devonian forests and a Paleolithic cave-bear skull to the site of decommissioned submarines at HMNB Devonport, where the sea is still a torpedo-path, / an Armageddon road . She explores the shared human continuum of bodily longing from the Prehistoric maker of a wooden fertility fetish, to a modern-day couple wading through summer pollen and the timeless cycles of conception, birth and child-rearing. A central sequence of dramatic monologues addressed to Van Gogh allows for a focussed exploration of depression, violence, passion and creativity. In these poems, as in all the poems in this impressive debut, we feel keenly the sense of life lived at the edge of threat catastrophe, even but also on the cusp of beauty and happiness. Other poems about the bewildering loss of miscarriage are hard to read and impossible to forget, moving with grace and authority through great grief to arrive at a hard-won destination of selfless, unqualified love. I remember again / the corridor / of the labour ward // and that woman / sitting weeping / with her man // having given birth / to a death / small grey face, // no breath, / something you cannot help / but love // habibi, akushla, /I go home alone / but carry you, // courie you, / little slipped thing, / to the ends of the earth.