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Varied in subject matter, these poems are clearly in the control of a singular voice. There is wonderful use of imagery throughout and surprising metaphor in abundance, in gentle and inventive poems that explores ideas of love, home, family and loss.– Hannah Lowe
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Published 2024 by
Smith|Doorstop Books
The Poetry Business
Campo House,
54 Campo Lane,
Sheffield S1 2EG
Copyright © Doreen Gurrey
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 978-1-914914-73-7
Typeset by Utter
Printed by People for Print, Sheffield
Smith|Doorstop Books are a member of Inpress:
www.inpressbooks.co.uk
Distributed by NBN International, 1 Deltic Avenue,
Rooksley, Milton Keynes MK13 8LD
The Poetry Business gratefully acknowledges the support of
Arts Council England.
Acknowledgements
Some of these poems have appeared in Poetry Salzburg Review, The North, The Bridport Anthology, The Anthology of Yorkshire Poetry and On-line. ‘There’s Rue for you’ came second in The Troubadour International Poetry Prize and ‘A Coalition of Cheetahs’ was highly commended for The Bridport Prize. Thanks are due to Carole Bromley who reignited my poetry voice again, to The Collective for their close reading and indispensable suggestions, to Ann and Peter Sansom for their encouragement and inspirational workshops, and finally to William, Ralph, Philip, Owen and Anna who are the loves of my life.
Post-war Settlement
York Cattle Market, 1931
Cologne
Hiraeth
Exile
Vocab.
Blown
Timepiece
13th Century Bestiary, Holy Trinity, York: Wolf
Rule Britannia
‘There’s rue for you; and here’s some for me’
Great Expectations
Zoo
Paternal
Guest
Dumping Ground
Yarn
Bodkins
Letter to Rodin
‘I have hurried dreadfully to meet Rodin. He did not come. I have a headache and long for the sea.’
13th Century Bestiary, Holy Trinity, York: Bear
Rival
La Pasiega, Spain
Aragón
Ouse
for Charlie
There’s coloured glass in Mrs Evans’ door –
look through the red and her shop’s an inferno,
the cooked ham on the slicer flayed, her apron poppy red;
through the blue and she’s under water
slowly arranging a blue Evening News, counting out
dark change.
Mrs Evans’ husband is dead; he lies under green grass
somewhere in France.
Often she thinks she sees him eyeing her
through the glass, first the red, then the blue.
