The Poet's Progress

I'm sorry it's been so long since I last updated this blog! University is keeping me busy. Today I have my second concert of the week; next week I'm reading at an open Mic night (which isn't terrifying at all...); on Tuesday I helped with a sixthform assembly... this is just a small sample of the general madness and awesomeness of University. Not to mention the work of course... Normally I blog to procrastinate, so perhaps my absence is a good sign. However, today's blog is different. For my first semester Creative Writing module, I am required to hand in 72-80 lines of poetry/ a 1500 word short story accompanied by a 500 word critical commentary on the development of my writing. The deadline is in about two weeks time, and I'm trying to marshal my thoughts. What have I learned, aside from how not to use a microwave? I am planning a blog on all the accidental things I've learnt at university, most of which relate to cooking or cycling, but you'll have to wait for that thrilling document until the Christmas holidays! :) 

So this post is about how I edit a poem, and the changes I've been making to that process. You will get to see various samples of my unfinished poetry. Although most of the time I'm quite loud, I'm actually cripplingly shy when it comes to showing anyone my creative work; sending off portfolios to get into University was a big step for me. So please be kind...

When I first started writing, I didn't edit my work at all, or revisit it. I just sat in my room with my computer, creating notepad file after notepad file of 'poems'. I still use notepad for this; not only is it simple and uses very little memory space on my computer, it reminds me not to get too sanctimonious about anything I've written. If a poem half-works, the idea of going back and dissecting it to try and get it perfect can seem scary, or even illogical. As a consequence I have literally hundreds of files of poems that are half-good (by my standards!). There's something about each one that I like, or liked at the time, so I can't bring myself to delete them, but I don't believe in them enough to edit them. The thing is, there is no point churning out realms of half-good material that will never be accepted for anything, and you will eventually regret. It's better to edit whilst the original idea is still fresh in your mind. 

So I've begun to develop my own writing and editing process! I still have a long way to go, but by putting more time and attention into my writing, I'm creating poems that I don't want to delete instantly, and hopefully poems I can use for my end of semester assignment. 

So from one rough draft:

multiply yx²,

the untested solution to all relationships,

predictable as a coin rising

and falling, as the number

governing how many times

you can toss two people together

and they still fall apart.

 To the edited version: 

Still it sits on my desk,

untested, as If:

all relationships were predictable

as a coin rising

and falling, as the number

governing how many times

you can toss two people together

and they still fall apart.

The differences are small, but a small change can make a big difference. In this poem, I was thinking about probability, based on the toss of a coin, so it made sense to make each stanza two lines long, to represent the heads/tails yes/no dichotomy. In my first draft, most of the stanzas are three lines, which was inconsistent and served no purpose in the poem. I also reorganised the sentence to use the 'If:' proposition, which is used in computer language to represent a choice and was a motif I used at the start of the poem. 

So did editing it make it any good? I'm not sure, to be honest. Better is not synonymous with good. I did actually send this poem off to a poetry e-zine, but I was rejected - something I'm told I will have to get used to...! :D At first I was disappointed*, but I know now that one rejection doesn't mean the work isn't any good. There are ideas and lines I like in this poem which I will probably go back to, and maybe write something else from.

Tip No.1: If you have a bad poem, and you're not sure where to go with it, choose the best line and use it as a starter/inspiration for an entirely new poem. Or use it to re-write your first attempt. 

So this is how I write:

1) Rough work.

I carry around a little black book with me at all times, in which I scribble poetry, oddments of prose, good words, random phrases, and notes to myself. It's scruffy, full of bits of paper, and I love it to pieces. Also, I try to carry a really good pen with me. Some poems are re-worked several times in the book, and there are plenty of abandoned stubs. I just found the phrase 'How does she feel? / Like Cigarettes & sunshine' scribbled in one corner. This is possibly one of my most private, precious possessions and I never show anyone its contents, ever. 

2) Re-editing on paper.

This is a new phase for me. I copy the poem out, making changes as I go. I read it aloud and try out variants on different lines.

3) Thinking break

I'm most inspired when I'm writing in the heat of the moment, scribbling as fast I can, but what I lack when I'm writing like this is perspective. So usually I leave the poem there for a while, if I can bear it. A few hours, or a few weeks later, I'll pick it up again and try to cast a more critical eye over my work. This is important as things that seemed like great ideas then can be deceptive, and you're more likely to pick up out-of-place phrases or awkward ideas on a second reading.

4) Typing up

This used to be my first, or even second step! I write up all my work onto notepad files, which I then back up on my memory stick. As I write, I re-edit again, mostly for style rather than content. Sometimes I rephrase things and substitute adjectives, with the help of the ever wonderful thesaurus.com, but as I do most of my work on paper now I edit less on the computer than before. At this stage, I'm trying to look at how my poem looks overall, including aesthetically, whereas at earlier stages I work as if through a magnifying glass, focusing on each word individually and slowly joining the dots between them and their neighbours.**

Tip No. 2: Back up everything. Twice. Losing your work is the most disheartening thing ever. 

5) Re-naming and other fussy activities

At this point, whatever I've done is as finished as it will ever be. I have started revisiting old poems, though. There's this one poem I wrote over the summer which is terrible, but I love the expressions I used, so I'm breaking it down into several mini-poems, each working with one of the ideas I conflated in the original. This involves a lot of re-writing and editing, but hopefully it will give new life to a dead poem. I also rename things, check my spelling & grammar (punctuation doesn't matter - if it's wrong, it's artistically wrong). I also keep a record of everything I write, no matter how awful, along with notes and dates. This isn't necessary, but it does help me keep a track of what I've done, and where I think I'm going. 

So now I'm going to be brave, and show you something I started yesterday, as an example of how I edit/create: 

Stage one - rough scribblings:

New Directions                     <-- something one direction need to take

November sinks like

November is sinking.

Around Ely it stops, and frost

frond-like wraps the carriage

up, and we are the lost.

The sky is gone soon the sky

At Thetford it melts go the last call

for tickets, please

At Thetford I watch                                            <-- line length

it wallow in the faces

of the grey people boarders

who board boarders, rigid in their reserved places

who talk who are going west, away

the only compass-point

here. Before Peterborough the day        (misspelled Peterbrough)

is over, and to the east

the last autumn’s fingertips disappear. 

I've actually transcribed that from my book, scribblings out included... :D

Stage two: editing

As the East, as the crow flies

November is sinking.

Around Ely it stops, and frost

frond-like wraps the carriage

up, and we are lost.

At Thetford the Thetford stop I watch

it wallow try to warm the faces

of the grey boarders sitting

rigid in their reserved places

With the From east to west,

West For them, going west is going away,

As fast as we can run away

Wst, November clings on behind

West, to Peterbrough’s lights

and the night ahead

Like the sun we only go                                 unimpeded

from east to west. Soon the day

closes on Peterborough, and like

November, the fens push us away

into December. This is the east                  restless December

where good weather goes to die.

and when you can still see

and the voices telling you home

is near, and the

They told you it wasn’t far from home.

They didn’t mean to lie.  

You can see the point where I tried out lots of different lines, adding one on top of another until I was forced to start a new paragraph! Without the crossings out, it looks like this: 

East, as the crow flies

November is sinking.

Around Ely it stops, and frost

frond-like wraps the carriage

up, and we are lost.

At the Thetford stop I watch

it try to warm the faces

of the grey boarders sitting

rigid in their reserved places.

Like the sun we only go

from east to west. Soon the day

closes on Peterborough, and like

November, the fens push us away

into December. This is the east 

where good weather goes to die.

They told you it wasn't far from home.

They didn't mean to lie.  

 At this stage, it still needs another edit, and I haven't decided what I think of it yet. For one thing, I need to look at the train lines again and work out whether Ely or Thetford comes first on the Norwich-Peterborough journey. There are awkward moments; for instance, the end of stanza three feels too long. I'd like to put a line break in after 'fens', but this would disrupt the day/away rhyme, which took me a long time to settle on. I am pleased with the sudden change of tone at the end of the poem, but I'm not sure how clear the story of the poem is. Can you see that I'm on a train, travelling home, in the late autumn? Can you imagine the fens as I saw them that morning? It's too early to tell yet. But there, it is, and for now, I'm pleased with it. 

Everyone has their own editing process. I'm still working on mine, and I'd love to hear about what works for you. Leave me a comment/or send me a tweet @corybantically - I'd love to hear from you! As always, thank you for your patience in reading this far.
God Bless,
J.R. x 

*really grumpy, and may have had a secret weep later

**I'm sorry for that sentence. I really am.

A short-ish update (You know me...)

It's now under a week until I leave for university. Facebook and Twitter are humming with university posts. Many of my friends moved in this weekend, so today's speciality has been pictures of beautifully decorated university rooms. I have some plans for my own room: I have two rolls of 'Poetry on the Underground' posters, one of my cosy IKEA rag rugs, and a box of multi-coloured, flower-shaped fairy lights. 

(By the way - where does the phrase 'fairy lights' come from? Is it old? I like it. It makes the fire-risks and all that seem a lot less realistic)

Half of my belongings are now in bags and boxes ready to travel. This has not been an easy process. I am a hoarder. I invest deep stored emotions in everything I won. Throwing things away for me is like being Voldemort and throwing away your Horcruxes. Still, the process proceeds, and this move is becoming more and more real. At the same time, we are preparing to move house as a family, and my long suffering Dad has just painted my new room in the exact specification of red-y orange I demanded, a sort of Heinz tomato soup colour. I have decided that I do not feel at home without my orange walls, so although I shall have to survive without them at university, I'm glad that for at least the next few years there will be somewhere familiar, and orange, for me to return to. For some strange reason, other people do not seem to appreciate the radiance of my orange walls. Each to their own.

So what is, or where is home? Moving to our fifth house, it's a question that's ceased to both me. Around the age of thirteen, and living in my least favourite house, I took to reading with great care the property sections of the newspapers, and grading the houses based on whether I'd live there or not, and preference. My ideal house had at least six bedrooms, looked beautiful, ideally included a study, pool and attic conversion, and sat in the middle of a sprawling landscape garden, stables optional. It was a vindictive, childish way of hinting at my parents that what they'd provided wasn't good enough, and it makes me wince to think back to it. Thirteen is a difficult age. But then we moved to our current house, and I turned fourteen, and stopped reading the property section. The worst thing you can do is long for things you can't have, especially whopping great grade-II listed mansions. 

Our family has two mottoes when it comes to 'home'. Firstly, and most importantly, home is where your family is. Secondly, home is where you make it. It could be a flat in Cornwall, a castle in Yorkshire, a suburban semi in London, but as long as we were all there, safe and sound, it could become home for us. More than that, 'home' isn't the building, or the locality: it's where we find ourselves in each other, where we belong. This makes 'homelessness' worse: not only are you without the physical comfort of a shelter, you loose the sense of belonging attached to shared living and to an extent, property ownership. Alden Nowlan, a wonderful Canadian poet, ends his poem 'He sits down on the floor of a School for the Retarded*' with these wonderful lines: 

'It's what we all want, in the end, to be held, merely to be held, to be kissed (not necessarily with the lips, for every touching is a kind of kiss.)  

Yet, it's what we all want, in the end, not to be worshipped, not to be admired, not to be famous, not to be feared, not even to be loved, but simply to be held.  

She hugs me now, this retarded woman, and I hug her. We are brother and sister, father and daughter, mother and son, husband and wife. We are lovers. We are two human beings huddled together for a little while by the fire in the Ice Age, two thousand years ago.'

These lines never fail to bring me reassurance and comfort. If you're interested in reading the full poem, I found it online here. The Selected Poems of Alden Nowlan was one of the first poetry books I ever bought myself, so it's very dear to my heart :') 

So my physical home is changing drastically, splitting into my university home and my 'base', with my family, but I'm not loosing anything. In fact, I think I'm gaining more than I'll miss. I really love my home here, in my little town, but not one but two new homes offers me the chance for a complete, fresh start. The chance to live the adult life I've been dreaming of and become the person I aspire to be, starting again with a clean slate. Besides which, I am completely in love with Norwich, and I can't wait to live there. The first time I stepped onto the campus I had an instinctual feeling that this was where I am meant to be, and God's been so good to me, guiding me this far. I honestly doubted I'd get there, but I shouldn't have. He's got me under his wing. I think I'll be okay. 

So next time I update this blog - unless I get really bored during the rest of the week - I will be somewhere new! I love the idea of a new landscape and a different setting to work in, with new inspirations, a different atmosphere. (I promise not to use the word 'new' again now, okay!) 

As always, thank you for your patience, your time, and your forgiveness for my enthusiasm for the semi-colon, hyphen, and bracket. 

Until then, God bless.

J.R. x 

* Retarded - This was written in 1982, so no offence meant. 

Backdated books review: LOTR, Rattigan, Economics, Owen Jones, Rilke, and other such ramblings

August 2012

I've been rather lazy with this page. When I realised I couldn't set it up to do individual posts - as on the main page - I went off the idea a little. However, I have been re-inspired to write something at least up about what I've been reading. 

My main project for this summer was to read the Lord of the Rings. The sheer scale of Tolkien's world, with its millions of avid readers, its fanfiction, films and appendices, really intimidated me - I was convinced it would be a whole-summer reading marathon, trekking through interminable passages listing the genealogy of elves. For those interested, there are interminable passages listing the genealogy of elves (and humans, dwarves, the Numenorians etc), but the story itself isn't overwhelmingly difficult. I can understand that some people might not get into it, but I was gripped. For days I raced through the familiar journey, watching Frodo and Sam struggle across Ithilien and revelling in the sheer beauty of the story. It has a wonderful epic quality, a richness of language, which is unsurpassable. I read all the appendices and spent days discussing the lineage of the dwarves with my Dad, who is a long-time Tolkien lover, and fully intended to go and read all the additional books, but then I got distracted reading other things, so I am yet to discover the history of the Second Age  of Middle Earth and that sort of thing. Perhaps its better this way. When you read the Lord of the Rings, you realise you're just skimming the surface of Tolkien's life work, the culminating event in the glorious history of Middle Earth. It's only fair that it should take a lifetime to read it, and savour the pleasure. 

Since then I've read a variety of new things and old. I finally read a Terence Rattigan play, The Deep Blue Sea, which I'm still thinking about, and I'm reading 50 Economic Ideas You Really Need to Know, one economic idea at a time. The idea is to try and make myself sound more intelligent when I'm arguing with politics students. So far, I'm eight ideas in, and I can refer to things like the 'invisible hand of supply and demand' with alacrity. The '50 ideas' series are the most fantastic books for sounding smart at short notice. I read '50 Literature Ideas You Really Need To Know' just before my A-Level exam, and I think it helped. Maybe. I'm slightly terrified that when I start university next month everyone I meet will genuinely understand these things, so I'm trying to polish my few nuggets of knowledge in the brief time left before I start packing... I've also been re-reading Sherlock Holmes for relaxation, because like most literaturish students I'm in love with him. 

Strangely for me, I haven't yet finished my holiday reading books. It's a tradition in my household that we each buy a novel or two for holiday reading, and this year I asked for Owen Jones 'Chavs: The Demonization of the working classes' (non-fiction), Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke, and The Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus, also by Rilke. I'll start with the book of letters. Written to aspiring poet Franz Kappus in the early half of this century, this selection of ten letters from Rilke to Kappus is inspiring, uplifting, encouraging, and life affirming. I felt, as I'm sure most readers do, that Rilke was talking directly to me. For a manual on how to write, on God and on life, they are essential reading, and I can this book becoming part of my 'Desert Island Discs' kit - the book, after Shakespeare and the Bible, that I'd want beside me when I feel lonely or lost. 
This brings me on to the Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus. I haven't finished the Sonnets yet, so I can't really comment on them. I don't feel qualified to comment on anything Rilke created, so all I can say is this: read them. Read them slowly. Read them on buses, and then listen to the conversation the people behind you are having about them, having seen you reading them. (You have to turn the pages every now and then so they don't realise you're eavesdropping.) If you can, read a bilingual translation so you can appreciate the rhythms and rhyme scheme which are totally destroyed in translation. Go away and learn German then read them properly.* Love them. Do not worry too much about understanding them. 

I bought the wrong translation of the Elegies and I am contemplating going and buying another translation because I think the phrasing is slightly better. This is how obsessive and lit-geeky I feel about them. (If you're interested: I have the Stephen Mitchell translation, which is good, but I'd prefer the Martyn Crucefix translation. So. Sad.) 

I haven't finished Owen Jones Chavs yet. It merits slow reading. Discussing attitudes to the working class in Britain, it is a truly challenging book, taking on many common misconceptions, from social to statistical. It suggests links between cause and effect, prejudice and reason, and argues strongly for the case that that social ills are a symptom of, rather than the cause, of Cameron's 'Broken Britain'. As you might have guessed, it's an angry left-wing work, with plenty of reasoned criticism of the Conservative governments of the last few decades, especially Margaret Thatchers' government. Jones also levies a fair amount of criticism of the labour party under Tony Blair, and is careful to present a reasoned and valid case for all his arguments. It is the sort of book that could be questioned, but it's a useful springboard for a groundwork of understanding the problem of class in Britain today. I feel it could do with - or at least, I'd appreciate - some more political theory to support the statements it draws from case studies and statistics, but the point is that the book is popular politics, designed to be accessible to everyone, so the absence of theory is justified in its premise. A highly qualified political commentator, Jones presumably has argued through the more academic side of his arguments and is confident that he could, and I think often has, support them when required to. It is, in any case, a useful and informative book, and the authority of Jones' arguments has for me been confirmed by the instances where he speculates about the future and his speculations have been confirmed by events since the book was published around two years ago. He's another person I'd love to meet, as our views seem very similar. The only other thing I'd nitpick about the book is the poor organisation of his arguments. It's a little hypocritical of me to complain, given the rambling nature of most of my blog posts, but I feel the book could have done with a plan setting out a miniature argument and conclusion for each chapter and then sticking rigidly to it, like an academic essay. Perhaps the book was planned like this, but if so, it's been hidden cleverly so as to create a general impression with each chapter rather than a logical, joined-up-the-dots argument. If there's one thing Critical Thinking AS Level did for, it was to make me pedantic about being able to trace argument structures, and it's often quite hard to follow the thread in Chavs. 
Nevertheless, it's definitely worth reading. It might not leave be more informed, or better at social arguments, but it will leave me with a genuine desire to challenge class perceptions and my own inherent prejudices. I have to read it in small chunks because it makes me want to hit people who vote Conservative,** but underwritten in the text is a genuine desire to make the lives of others better, and educate the uneducated - the degree-holding classes...

Soonish I will (hopefully) have a reading list for University, so that'll probably take up most of my time. I'm going to have to learn to think again! :D 

Until then, I have two main things on the go. I'm going to read Julius Caesar, because I saw the RSC production on TV and really liked it, and I'm going to read Les Miserables. Today, on the 7th or 8th book of the first principle book of the story, one of the main characters was finally introduced...more on that when I get there.

Until then, keep reading :D I always like book suggestions so please send me some!
J.R. 


*This one is still a work in progress. 
**Which isn't nice. Please don't stop reading if you vote Conservative. I love you really. 

Goodbye Rowan

Warning: Post with lots of Church-y jargon! Please feel free to ask if you don't understand anything and I'll amend the article.

Today, the Archbishop of Canterbury has announced his decision to resign as Archbishop and take up a position as Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge.

( The full article can be found here)

My immediate reaction was shock, then sadness. I know that these days most senior religious leaders - except the Pope - do not die in office, but move on or retire, but to me, Archbishop Rowan Williams feels like a moral pillar in religious and secular society, someone a great many people have depended on, loved and respected. It is with great sadness the Church must wish him well with his journey and his new position. Besides, it's far better to congratulate the Most Reverend Dr Williams whilst he's still alive!

I recently had the privilege of hearing Dr Williams speak at a service for the reconciliation of the United Reformed Church and the Church of England (it was the 350th anniversary of the split, when the dissenters left/were thrown out of the established church). His sermon was engaging, theologically relevant, beautifully crafted, poignant and powerful. The service had a special meaning for me; I was brought up in an interchurch family, Catholic and Anglican, confirmed ecumenically, and these days my 'spiritual home' is URC, so to be there at the healing of these two churches (and we had VERY good seats! :D) was incredibly special. As a representative of the established church, Rowan Williams is conscientious, brave, and intelligent, and unlike so many politicians never abuses others in giving his opinions of judgements. He has worked tirelessly for peace and justice and to resolve both internal conflicts in the Anglican Communion, to mediate between faiths, and to speak on behalf of the oppressed and suffering. As Archbishop of Canterbury, he has earned the respect of sceptics of the faith and world-leaders, without ever abusing his power or discriminating against non-Christians. His wisdom and kindness - who can forget the response to 6 year old Lulu Renton's Letter to God?) are inspirational.

I also have a special respect for Rowan Williams as a poet. I've been frantically searching the internet for his poetry this last half-hour and it is truly beautiful. Some people can do everything! The independant's comment here seems to be typical of the praise for his writing. I recommend, if you're into poetry at all, to search out his poetry. As a poetry geek, I'm thrilled to discover a different writer, especially one that the other poeple on my course may not have heard about and so I can show off about... ;)

If you're reading this, Dr. Williams (if only!), I'd like to wish you the best in your new post, which will suit you down to the ground! The students of Magdalene College are very lucky! I hope you continue standing up for the faith and those who need a champion, and I'd like to thank you for ten years of strong guidance of the Anglican Communion through some trying times. God Bless.

J x

surely you know this: poetry by Wendy French

Finally, I have found my ideal writer. Unbelievably, this is somone I love more than Sylvia Plath. More than George Orwell. Maybe even more than J.K. Rowling...

(Please forgive me all the hyperboles. I'm still ridiculously excited at finding this book.)

Annoyingly, I can't remember where I got this book. It was either a Foyle prize or a Poetry Society renewal of membership freebie. Either way I'm more than grateful to them for giving it to me. After several months sitting inconspiculously on my shelf, I picked it up abset mindedly for some light reading and have discovered one of my favourite books of all time.

So this is it: surely you know this, a small book of poetry by Wendy French.

It's published by Tall Lighthouse, a rather lovely poetry publishing firm, and is Wendy French's second Anthology.

In terms of physical qualities, it's just 63 pages long, with most poems only taking up one page. The design of the book is rather beautiful, with a very readable typeface and an endearing sense of simplicity. If I can personify the book, I'd say that's it's a book that wants to be read.

Inside, the poems are divided into three sections:

1. present tense (sappho fragments)

2. she says / he says

3. stone

Each sections has an entirely different character. 'present tense' is full of allegorical language, ambiguous phrasing, experiments with syntax. The poetry has a surreal, dream-like quality. It's hypnotic, and yet also entirely relatable - something I would say of the entire book. French has a marvellous way of drawing the reader into her poems so they seem like a new aspect of something very familiar in your own life, but yet also something new. Even the poems dealing with situations unfamiliar to me, like the 'old woman'/mother in Rocking, Rosendale Road (stone) became real through the lyrical, tangible quality of her words. 'she says / he says', the second section, is written in prose poetry. The poems alternate between taking a female voice or male voice, and share mysterious, dazzling fragments of other people's lives. Both 'present tense' and 'she says / he says' contain fractions of other poems as the starter for each poem, which I'll get to in a minute. The third section of the book is the simply titled 'stone', a section of mixed prose poems and poetry. The voice here is often distinctively the authors, yet there is a tremendous amount of imagination and passion. 'stone' does deal with the more difficult, raw aspects of life, yet it is also a tremendously hopeful section.

French's poetry allows for a great deal of reader interpretation, so reading her poems is a very personal experience. She also has a completely unique tone and a remarkable gift for honesty. Her work stands alone somehow, a new current in 21st century poetry. I honestly believe she is someone who is going to take poetry somewhere, and as a literature student I'm very excited about her writing - after all, the advantage of discovering a new author is that very few critics have written about her yet. Although she deserves lots of critical praise, it's nice to be able to form my own opinions on poetry before it's put into the GCSE syllabus and analysed to death!

French also leaves a lot of questions for her readers, although unlike some poets *coughcoughTonyHarrison* her poetry isn't so litered with classical references you need google open to understand the poetry. However, I've never heard of 'sappho' (althoguh it's a very pretty name!) so I'm now going to google it and find out.

According to google, Sappho was an ancient greek woman poet, whose poetry has only survived in fragments, some of which feature in 'surely you know this' (Which, incidentally, is taken from one of the fragments!). Her poetry was apparently very famous and beautiful, but also shrouded in the mystery of time, which has destroyed much of it. If anyone knows anything more about her, please comment. I'd love to know!

This site has some good information: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/318 

Wendy French's 'surely you know this' is a collection which I'm going to come back to over and over again. It's the anthology I wish I'd written myself. interestingly, much of it reminds me of my own poetry - with a few hundred years more polish - so I am a little envious of this anthology... if ever I become famous (haha) I shall be a French-esque poet xD

I would recommend this collection to absolutely any literature lover, even those who are not big fans of modern poetry, and to anyone looking to discover a new and exciting writer.

For more information, her page on Tall Lighthouse is:

http://www.tall-lighthouse.co.uk/p_wendy-french.html 

Get Reading!

J xx