Launching The Human Portion

 V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of The Human Portion by Nicola Warwick.

“Nicola Warwick’s poems take place in entrancing, liminal territory in which the human sensibility encounters the natural world. Deep kinship, mystery and otherness are conveyed through acute observation and transformative imagination. The language is precise and often surprises. Take, for instance ‘the sky, red as a swallow's throat’ (‘Late high summer’), or ‘roots easing through earth / were a voice making itself unheard’ (‘And the trees (said)’). These poems reveal a special sensitivity and to read them is to feel our ‘Human Portion’ enlarged. Highly recommended.” Moniza Alvi

“‘How to speak of this’ Warwick asks in these nuanced, thoughtful poems concerning landscape, seascape and wildlife. Encompassing intimate losses of family and nature, the collection delicately explores our ‘egg-tight grief’ in distilled moments of striking imagery and accomplishment. Ultimately, these poems hope that we may find in nature, as  ‘The Courteous Farmer’ does, a ‘second heart’.” Heidi Williamson

The Human Portion is very liminal and very grounded.

ISBN: 978-1-7398838-2-9 

36 pages               

R.R.P. £6.50

A sample poem can be enjoyed below.

BUY THE HUMAN PORTION NOW using the paypal options below. 

The Human Portion (with p&p options)

The Human Portion (with p&p for UK delivery) £7.99 GBP The Human Portion (with p&p for Rest of the World delivery) £17.50 GBP

The Chitterings

Night by night, I listen
for the soft scrape of their claws
as they slip out from under the eaves.

You doze beside me, unaware 
of the little interlopers who stir only 
as we are readying ourselves for sleep.

I wait for the dusky light to fade, 
for their ragged shapes to take to the air, 
for them to stutter like ticker-tape into the dark.

My ears are tuned like a child’s for their speech,
their squeals and calls, a quiet chit-chittering
as they gather for the off.

You say it’s all in my head, these creatures
that will not silence, suggest I still them 
with something like mindfulness.

On those nights when sleep won’t come, 
I watch from the window for their exodus,
count them out, count them all back in.