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Like Horses, Jasmine Simms

Smith/Doorstep, 2019 £5.00

Jasmine Simms uses repetition in her pamphlet Like Horses to set a scene, create a strong sound and make a point, powerfully.

In ‘School’, the writer reflects the emotion and whimsy of a teenager in a science lesson:

In Physics I drew love hearts, or bent and unbent
paper clips into the shape of love hearts.

Through the repetition of ‘love hearts’, ‘bent’/‘unbent’ and with ‘love’ used again in the line that follows, Simms introduces us to a prominent theme in her poetry. Indeed, kissing and love are referred to frequently throughout this pamphlet.

Please find the full review here at Sphinx Poetry Reviews, Pamphlets and Features.


At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered

At the start of this collection, Levine’s third book of poetry, Ilya Kaminsky’s foreword focuses upon writing which keeps its secrets, evading comprehension, in order to transcend language, to explore the spaces between words and their meanings. He asks, ‘What is clarity?’ Upon reading At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered, the question itself becomes elusive.

Let me indulge in a metaphor of my own to explain: I began reading Levine’s poetry like walking a river. Following it with my eyes, not really understanding the course or predicting the direction it would go. In order to appreciate the poetry, I realised I had to lie down in the water, to let it flow over me. In doing so, I captured phrases I found evocative, words strung together in abstract ways, the sounds they made, the images which they created, the moments of absolute clarity washing over me and then vanished, gone. This may sound awfully la-de-dah, but Levine seems to encourage the reader to let go of the instinctive need to fully comprehend in order to enjoy, to disassociate from obvious signage and accept the lack of direction; to be open to interpretation. 

At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered is a mystical, cosmic, effervescent collection of verse. There is much music and romance within its poetry, from the sounds in ‘Low-Hanging Orb, Smudged Green’ (‘With ice-cold spoon, / snap the world open to the pulp’), and the musicality of ‘soft water – soft as the light, white breath of horses’ in ‘Egg of the Universe’ – to the words of love in ‘He Delivers Unto Her His Blessings’: ‘There is much to celebrate. She invites moments of unaccountable happiness.’ 

There are many beautiful, almost hypnotic lines and a central theme of light running throughout the writings, such as in ‘Other Effects’: ‘No light I know as light, but winter sky on ice stealing the sky’s milky hue.’ The collection is heavy with prose poems like this. Emotive, imaginative, like incantations, they create a dream-world, where the reader emerges not quite sure of what made sense or how it all fit together, but left within a kind of whirlwind made up of spools of film, with each image capturing another vivid image, all rushing past and evading capture. 

In ‘Although Madame Did It on the Grill,’ the poet writes: ‘Raking coals, straddles amid licks of flame, sparks rose up / from the earth, arced across the sky turning overhead in bright pinwheels,’ and later in the same poem, ‘and all that night, throughout the world, a terrible noise of sheep bleating and of bells from the church towers, of wooden houses cracking, and the cries of men and the cries of women.’ It’s artistic, vivid, nightmarish – like hopping out of a Monet and into Edvard Munch. 

Indeed, Levine is often inspired by works of art. His subjects are abstract, but beauty and meaning find their way through the language. In the final poem in the book, ‘Getting It Right,’ Levine concludes with a lasting, entrancing couplet: ‘I move the camera and your life comes out of you in colors, / I move it again, it goes back in.’ It’s a beautiful image, fully in focus. 

Returning to the initial question asked by Kaminsky: ‘What is clarity?,’ the richness and translucence of Levine’s writing makes me wonder: Does such ambiguity make poetry more accessible? If we are not busy trying to understand it, are we liberated – free to take the words, phrases or parts which resonate with our own minds – leaving the rest for another reader to find meaning? By throwing off obvious meaning, could this create a more impactful poetry? It’s a good question. And I’m sure the answer is here … somewhere.


Finding Sea Glass: poems from The Drift, Hannah Lavery

Stewed Rhubarb Press, 2019 £5.99

Knowing how to belong

The emphasis on Scots words in this pamphlet is essential in communicating Hannah Lavery’s message, with phonetic spelling and colloquialisms used to create a voice. So in ‘St Andrew’s Day, 2014’, she writes: ‘He hadne made it. I was what? No bothered? Aye.’

The tone is conversational throughout. This informality bonds the reader with the poet, helps us assume the perceived role of confidant. As a result, her outpouring of pain, grief and loss becomes more personal, more deeply understood.

Please find the full review here at Sphinx Poetry Reviews, Pamphlets and Features.


The Bullshit Cosmos, Sarah Shapiro

ignition Press, 2019 £5.00

A bit of background first: Sarah Shapiro experienced a difficult education, growing up with learning (dys)abilities* and struggling to learn to read. The Bullshit Cosmos details her personal journey and the efforts she made to grasp and utilise language.

Shapiro’s poetry beckons to those who aren’t confident readers and appeals to those who are. She plays with form and uses rhyme and repetition for the sound they create to demonstrate the hardships faced by those with (dys)abilities, as shown in her first poem ‘Appleseed Reading Comprehension’:

Please find the full review here at Sphinx Poetry Reviews, Pamphlets and Features.


The Hoopoe’s Eye, Mark Carson

Wayleave Press, 2019 £5.00

Coleridge described poetry as ‘the best words in the best order’, but in The Hoopoe’s Eye Mark Carson shows us that the positioning of each poem within a sequence is equally significant.

The pamphlet begins with a private correspondence informing us that there has been a flood. From here, the poet takes us by the hand to walk his journey, step by step, poem by poem.

Please find the full review here at Sphinx Poetry Reviews, Pamphlets and Features.


The Stack of Owls is Getting Higher, Dawn Watson

The Emma Press, 2019 £6.50

You may not expect a Belfast-born poet to write so convincingly like a native of her travels in South East America. But in The Stack of Owls is Getting Higher, where many of Dawn Watson’s poems are set in Georgia, Tennessee and the Carolinas, she creates a strong sense of place through her use of vivid imagery, language and dialect.

Please find the full review here at Sphinx Poetry Reviews, Pamphlets and Features.