Poem, Poetry

The Weight of Snow – 2 poems

Today we celebrate the release of Pauline Rowe’s second Maytree collection, The Weight of Snow.

Described by the author as a sequence of poems exploring a family story of bereavement and the accidental death of a child, and the reverberations of loss over generations. The Weight of Snow powerfully conveys how grief becomes emotional inheritance and impacts upon formation and love. A stunning collection.

Barnes Road, 1967

Wendy kept PG Tips cards 
and badges from Robinson jam.

Billy The Lodger blocked the hall 
with his deafness and Triumph bike.

Little Jody shot rats with a borrowed gun.
The weary beds upstairs were off the floor on bricks.

Tate & Lyle’s open bag – its sugar-plated spoon,
a chemistry experiment, for the mourning.

Mary Hopkin sang out 
from the red and grey Dansette,
as we tried to bounce without any give – 
we’d sing and dance forever and a day.

Mum didn’t want Joe senior to end there, 
unable to breathe in the chaos of Nanna’s death.

Mum said Nanna Ada’s dying face was blue,
her howling made them all afraid.

At first, she’d given up.
So when the fight came in  
the tumour had the better of her.

Widnes Library

my childish refuge,
its magic revolving door,
like the wardrobe to Narnia.

Saturday afternoons 
away from traffic,
the bone yard’s air,
SRA and Collins’ Maths 

I found freedom
in an apple barrel on a ship, 
the feasts of Tudor kings.
Journeys to The New Forest, 
Wootton Major,
the cold streets of Paris,
civil war Massachusetts,
the workhouse and an empty bowl.

The Weight of Snow (Maytree Press) is available now from the author and on-line from the Maytree shop Home | Maytree Press (bigcartel.com)




Pauline Rowe’s fourth pamphlet The Ghost Hospital, published by Maytree Press, was shortlisted in the 2020 Saboteur Awards. Her full collection Waiting for the Brown Trout God was published by Headland Publications in 2009. Her collaborative exhibition Sleeping in the Middle – with photographer AJ Wilkinson – was shown at Open Eye Gallery, Liverpool in May 2018. The Allotments – a collaborative exhibition with photographic artist Dave Lockwood and artist, the late Arthur Lockwood – was shown as part of the LOOK Biennial at the Victoria Gallery & Museum, Liverpool in 2019. She founded and ran the Liverpool based charity North End Writers (2006 –2020). She has a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Liverpool and extensive experience of working in health and community settings.

art, Poem, Poetry

Unfolded by Olivia Dawson

As an added extra, today we celebrate the release of Olivia Dawson’s debut collection, Unfolded. Available from today, Unfolded is the 19th publication from our friends at Maytree Press and again features original cover art from Alice Parker.

A wonderful debut collection uniquely themed around a collection of exotic and mysterious fans where Olivia gently weaves together a series of intimate portraits as though the words were themselves revealing a secret message on the leaves of a fan.

Unfolded is now available direct from Olivia or online from Maytree Press https://maytreepress.bigcartel.com/

Mantelpiece

Sometimes I display a fan
of glossy invitations showy

as peacock feathers,
or my Rolling Stones badge

pinned to a shrivelled rose
for a conversation piece.

Once I laid out family photos
but they disturbed the space

curling like cellophane fish
in the heat. Today a naked figurine,

round as Botero’s ballerina, poses
between two bowls with silver rims,

a screen of dust dims their reflective glaze
which only shows glimpses of me.



Still Life with Chocolate Pot

Matisse owns a chocolate pot –
treasured wedding present, drop-bellied,
squat, with a walk-on part

into interior lives.
It poses as a curvy vase
alive with silk flowers

or hides in the design of a tablecloth
like an optical illusion,
sometimes it takes centre stage,

duckbilled on three splayed feet.
Recast as a paper cut-out
the pot looks for its finest angle

jaunty behind a neon apple
then goes missing
to return as a smaller version

of itself, where it lurks
in the background, lopsided,
unsure of the applause.



Olivia Dawson, originally from London, now lives in the Sintra hills near Lisbon, via Paris and Rio, where she worked as an EFL teacher. She has an MA in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and is the Poetry Society Stanza rep for the Lisbon area. Her poetry has been published in magazines and anthologies including Magma, Poetry News, Under the Radar, Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal, Time & Tide (Arachne Press), The
Chronicles of Eve
(Paper Swans Press) and longlisted for the National
Poetry Competition, shortlisted for Paper Swans Press Pamphlet
Competition and shortlisted for the Poetry on the Lake Competition. Unfolded is her debut pamphlet.

Poetry

Fizz and Hiss

Today, in a slight change to our normal schedule, we celebrate Johanna Boal’s latest poetry pamphlet from Maytree Press.

There is so much to love about Johanna’s second collection of poems that it’s difficult to summarise in just a brief paragraph. Beneath joyful language were everyday objects mix seamlessly with images of the natural world personified there is a deep sense of nostalgia and understated sorrow from a writer at one with the order of life.

Available now direct from Maytree Shop

Gran’s Pegs

Gran lived in a terraced house
with a ten-foot garden but no grass.
The doghouse was hidden out of sight
behind the tin bin and the outhouse.

It was always the white line that got me —
the cleanest clothes line stretched across the garden
that looked like Gran had bought a new one with every fancy.

But she longed for blue or yellow —
the ones at Woolworths with matching plastic pegs
instead of the wooden ones that split apart
until she pushed the spring back in
with just the tip of her thumb.

She would wince but never moan.
Gran lived near the canal with the stink
of the brewery filling the air. The pegs
hung like pieces of driftwood on the line.
Gran never travelled far.

 

Snowdon

how alluring and mouth-watering.
Face perfect – blood-red full lips, black oval eyes
set out on the pale skin air – sedimentary rocks
thinned out from the sun like sun-kissed freckles.
Loose shale a harsh brow when I slipped, jumping,
shadows fashioned like mascara smudged Snowdon.
The jagged hair mixed with round feminine features
on your ridges. Wind blowing, frost biting, sun glaring.
Me, squinting at the rocks dropping away, death and beauty
edging the floor of the valley. Look – a reflection,
my face on the mountain in the fast-flowing river.

 

Fizz cover

 

 

 

Poetry

The Collective Nouns for Birds – 2 Poems

Today we celebrate Amanda Huggins debut poetry collection, The Collection Nouns For Birds with two poems.

Published by Maytree Press and released on the 28 February 2020, this sparkling pamphlet sized collection has already recieved a number of celebrated pre-launch reviews which you can find via the Maytree website here

You can find out more about Amanda and her other award winning writing exploits at her curiously titled blog, Troutie McFishtales here

The Names of Seaweed and
Collective Nouns for Birds

When I saw Da’s salt-licked boots,
frayed cap tossed over the peg,
I’d throw down my satchel,
punch the stiff latch
and crash through the scullery,
knowing he’d be
hauling coal from the cellar,
cheeks smudged with black dust,
strangely clumsy out of water.

The tug of the tide left him breathless
when he stayed too long on the shore,
and he lived among us only half-listening
to our land-locked talk,
always waiting to set sail again.

Sea child, he called me,
his slip of a fish,
as we dived down deep
to the coral beds
where mermaids sang
and jellyfish danced in puffball skirts.

Mam hoped he would turn his back on the tiller,
be coaxed ashore to the herring sheds,
be anchored down by kipper and creel.
Yet Da would never trade his fins for feet.

And when I lie awake on summer nights,
the last of the light
holding out in the western sky,
I hear him recite the names of seaweed
and collective nouns for birds.

In dreams I’m deafened
by a clamour of purple claw,
lured by a charm of oyster thief,
double-crossed by a deceit of devil’s tongue,
chased by a scold of landlady’s wig,
outwitted by a gaggle of dabberlocks.

Then at dawn he slides beneath the waves,
drowning with the names still on his tongue,
leaving me alone once more
to run aground without him.

 

Chris Clarke-with-an-e

I see you by the bar at Amy’s wedding,
an almost-stranger in your married skin,
much taller than I’d thought you’d be:
my all grown up Chris Clarke-with-an-e.

The boy whose kisses stung my lips
with the tang of sherbet lemons,
sharpening my colours behind the vaulting horse.

‘You’re my bird for keeps,’ the love note said,
scrawled with a cheap dip pen
and smudged where you’d folded it too soon.

Now you call my name as I turn to go,
I feign surprise, blush as we gush our shy hellos
and you say I’m looking well.

Then we both walk away, suddenly unsure,
perhaps kept apart by things unsaid,
half-curious to know our different ending:
grown-up me and Chris Clarke-with-an-e.

 

The Collective Nouns for Birds by Amanda Huggins is available direct from the author, on-line from Maytree Press via the shop link below, Amazon and all good bookshops.

Amanda Huggins Cover

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