V. Press is very very delighted to share the publication of Braised in Wine by V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022 winner D.D. Holland.
“Braised in Wine is a striking debut from D.D. Holland. There is a veritable smorgasbord of ways (case in point) in which food can make its way into common parlance, but Holland breathes new life into her subject matter, exploring the familiar and at times painful emotions that eating can elicit. The poems contained within Braised in Wine unpick how food can fashion the self through memory and relationships, using taste as a way to express a deeper well of feeling. Through small and large acts of confession, Holland conjures powerful and poignant images that bury themselves in the mind. I can’t wait to see what’s next.” Dr Jack McGowan
“A book about eating disorders and abuse might sound like a tough read – but, although these poems teeter on the edge of an abyss, they are written with healthy doses of warmth and humour, and an appetite for life that proves moving and uplifting.” Dr David Swann
“Braised in Wine’s evocative, compelling and moving poems whet the appetite, while also exploring how what we eat and drink may feed into other aspects of life – body image, self-worth, relationships and more.” Sarah Leavesley, V. Press prize judge
Braised in Wine is very amusing and very genuine.
Winner of the V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022
ISBN: 978-1-7398838-5-0
34 pages, illustrated
R.R.P. £6.50
A sample poem can be enjoyed below.
BUY BRAISED IN WINE NOW using the paypal options below.
Life Advice
Lick the custard jug.
Take eight canapes the first time around.
Double, triple and quadruple dip your crackers;
turn out the crisp packet and suck off the salt.
Dip your spoon directly into the jar,
eat the grapes from the cheese board
and chew on the garnish.
Slurp your soup,
take seven sugars in your tea
and drink your coke full-fat.
Gnaw on chicken bones, then
suck your fingers clean.
Always ensure you are first in line
for birthday cake.
Belch appreciatively,
use your sleeve as a napkin,
dig your elbows into the table,
seize the wrong cutlery
in the wrong hands and
refuse to leave without seconds.
Force meteor showers,
cure existence,
evade the certainty of death.
Lick the custard jug.
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