The secret of life, of a happy life, is: leave a little space open for poetry… Massimo Bottura
I am very happy to announce a new, slim volume of poems
Sightings: Rose Cook published by Grey Hen Press
available from Rose Cook or email email@example.com £4 plus p&p
Here are poems “bright as Lord Krishna’s hair’ that take great joy and delight in the wild-life of sea and shore. In an age of cynicism and depression over climate change these poems are a pure celebration of nature; to quote a line from her poem about building a stone wall, they are like “the heartings” that brim with “tumble and lustre”. A truly uplifting collection.
Gill McEvoy (Rise pub Cinnamon Press)
There are poems here delightfully willing to see through the eyes of the creatures involved – whales, dogs, seals, fish, birds – while the human element is aware of itself as the inevitable record of vision.
And there are poems here which speak directly to the hidden in all of us; losses which remain on the inside brought to sight/light by Cook`s tender language and deft crafting.
With the ‘white sheets’ on the washing line, Cook surrenders to sight, while that ‘single red shirt’ acts as a warning: Look out. And up, and everywhere, all the time, because it`s a good thing. Because it helps.
Sandra Tappenden (Speed pub Salt Modern Poets)
The Bird Taggers
Down by the ley at dusk,
people are working softly.
In the reeds, they have strung a net
from poles, several pluck small birds
from the netting. They carry white bags
into which they place the birds in pairs
for company. These people work swiftly,
talk in low voices. The reed banks hum
with the sound of settling birds.
One man comes to explain, how they ring the legs,
track the birds’ flight, to protect feeding grounds,
nest sites. He shows us a young swallow.
It lies meek in his hand, relaxed as a sleeping mouse.
His voice is sure, this is heart work, for the future.
Several white bags hang silently from his belt.
He says not to worry, they have nest boxes.
Once in the dark boxes they will be calm
and in the morning, released.
Soon the birds will fly to Spain, to Africa.
from Taking Flight Rose Cook
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That’s not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that’s the burden of the year.
photo Rose Cook
I will be performing as guest poet of the Fire River Poets on National Poetry Day at 8 pm on the 4 October 2018. There will also be an open mic session. Fire River Poets contact details: firstname.lastname@example.org Website: http://www.fireriverpoets.org.uk
Venue: Creative Innovation Centre CIC, Memorial Hall, Paul Street,Taunton TA1 3PF
01823 337477 email@example.com
photo Rose Cook