tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56470838552513344752024-03-13T12:51:21.053+00:00poetry & flash fiction that is very veryV. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.comBlogger211125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-71053937408694659862024-02-09T10:05:00.001+00:002024-02-09T10:43:13.581+00:00Award News...& more!<p><span>V. Press is very very excited to share an exciting prize announcement, as well as a wonderful new review and a mini-selection of 'love' poems/flash for readers to enjoy.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKk0DFbTDwfOlkxuV_G-65Mzsns7KC3g2MhC3B8WrkwmCeoEy2zSCm87AaYEnYJQu4BAFjqstfVaMKoC1uSPCF8reRn0kF4z1OeLw7Fl4pjRm6gXEvkAYO7oTuFx0QzgTdiYxNwcYaLpV_JfAkBa7GE8S4v_5ZpOATnQqiWuD_2hTgz5G7Kaj6LujVsq_/s2460/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2460" data-original-width="1728" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKk0DFbTDwfOlkxuV_G-65Mzsns7KC3g2MhC3B8WrkwmCeoEy2zSCm87AaYEnYJQu4BAFjqstfVaMKoC1uSPCF8reRn0kF4z1OeLw7Fl4pjRm6gXEvkAYO7oTuFx0QzgTdiYxNwcYaLpV_JfAkBa7GE8S4v_5ZpOATnQqiWuD_2hTgz5G7Kaj6LujVsq_/s320/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" width="225" /></a></div>First, a big drumroll for Nicola Warwick whose V. Press chapbook <i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> has <b>won the poetry category of the East Anglian Book Awards 2023!!!</b><p></p><p>These coveted awards celebrate the very best of the region's publishing, writing, and V. Press is so pleased to see this beautiful pamphlet recognised!</p><p>Details of the category winners can be found <a href="https://nationalcentreforwriting.org.uk/writing-hub/announcing-the-category-winners-for-the-2023-east-anglian-book-awards/" target="_blank">here</a> and the winning book from each category will next be considered by a final judging panel of representatives from Jarrolds, Eastern Daily Press, National Centre for Writing and University of East Anglia. One of these six finalists will then go on to win the overall Book of the Year Award, with the winner revealed at a celebratory event on Thursday 15 February, 6.30pm, at the National Centre for Writing, Dragon Hall. </p><p>Meanwhile, m<span style="text-align: justify;">ore information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering for </span><i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i><span style="text-align: justify;"> can be found </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="text-align: justify;">.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">REVIEW NEWS</span></p><p><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not Enough Rage</span></a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMhwT1zRpT3NBaZ4LJ9C2RsG8UqnQpg1pvrrCMGp4_cCDSodHgKmW9OaZ8FQuO9fiyvIph_id6lESavcK3Tu_8GRZRZc43gqF5wDKrDkxiGxYitdz7GXzdkaKSwuSXMBtFlpQYOuxIS3NhvIuAzF0OG7jUxVXdYfz4NpDDELFTkrEpGqqEa4qKIGsSshS/s3402/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3402" data-original-width="2220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMhwT1zRpT3NBaZ4LJ9C2RsG8UqnQpg1pvrrCMGp4_cCDSodHgKmW9OaZ8FQuO9fiyvIph_id6lESavcK3Tu_8GRZRZc43gqF5wDKrDkxiGxYitdz7GXzdkaKSwuSXMBtFlpQYOuxIS3NhvIuAzF0OG7jUxVXdYfz4NpDDELFTkrEpGqqEa4qKIGsSshS/w131-h200/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" width="131" /></a></div><p><br /></p>“Wherever you open this splendid collection you’ll be overwhelmed by tumbling, tumultuous impressionistic images and memories, the sights, sounds and smells of snapshots [...]Davies has a real gift for using simple language to convey powerful complex images, which in turn tell yet more.”<p></p><div><b>Melissa Todd</b>, <i>The Journal</i>, issue 70</div><div><br /></div><div>More information, sample poems and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank"><span>Not Enough Rage</span></a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">LOVE, LOVE, LOVE</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Life may or may not be like a box of chocolates, but V. Press is very very pleased to offer readers this Valentine's online mini-selection from some of our earlier titles.<br /><br />The themed prose and poems here are a small sample of what's on offer in the <a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bookshop.html" target="_blank">bookshop</a>. And please do click on the link for each title below to enjoy more work by the same writer, along with information and reviews about the book or pamphlet.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhca2tr-lnW3b_1BZHGDSizDySWdnASbHHPcbNS6Db5O9ta9A8q2riUjgQIz59KBYRftdzZqViYselCjBawcboouL_7a3UMstXEe20qZFkjnCPxxYJeT0cKtcbA6evedMPzgTgp2mXsW8mj/s1600/Like+love+front+cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="390" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhca2tr-lnW3b_1BZHGDSizDySWdnASbHHPcbNS6Db5O9ta9A8q2riUjgQIz59KBYRftdzZqViYselCjBawcboouL_7a3UMstXEe20qZFkjnCPxxYJeT0cKtcbA6evedMPzgTgp2mXsW8mj/s200/Like+love+front+cover.jpg" width="128" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-tFimKucVAcedvqAzdCabZ1Ni_YnQwwq0Q0JCRZJTqKicVyihwx3pJ6OOAEihGI6eEVNgmzTgVR5HKR7_IQtbBnQ2fvD-iSTHO2ltb-WKFMgO67_hskDB1F_v9yYm07orQJ_UKj6H_3U/s1600/Bolt+down+this+earth+jpeg+final+front+only+03-11-2016.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-tFimKucVAcedvqAzdCabZ1Ni_YnQwwq0Q0JCRZJTqKicVyihwx3pJ6OOAEihGI6eEVNgmzTgVR5HKR7_IQtbBnQ2fvD-iSTHO2ltb-WKFMgO67_hskDB1F_v9yYm07orQJ_UKj6H_3U/s1600/Bolt+down+this+earth+jpeg+final+front+only+03-11-2016.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="446" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-tFimKucVAcedvqAzdCabZ1Ni_YnQwwq0Q0JCRZJTqKicVyihwx3pJ6OOAEihGI6eEVNgmzTgVR5HKR7_IQtbBnQ2fvD-iSTHO2ltb-WKFMgO67_hskDB1F_v9yYm07orQJ_UKj6H_3U/s200/Bolt+down+this+earth+jpeg+final+front+only+03-11-2016.jpg" width="130" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi8dOrG90NFNlbL8uRVDE_m_8kXhY7KftaGlOUO-PNcXMn3jtNTaYYfIHV_xqcZ5hHVp_YyvkdXyw0e2j7dj01-EGcMQ6N7rYZQ19yS8xKPatMg3ZmRqruWa6eq_tHQuEO-M_T-LnoCfI/s1600/somewhere+between+rose+and+black.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1130" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi8dOrG90NFNlbL8uRVDE_m_8kXhY7KftaGlOUO-PNcXMn3jtNTaYYfIHV_xqcZ5hHVp_YyvkdXyw0e2j7dj01-EGcMQ6N7rYZQ19yS8xKPatMg3ZmRqruWa6eq_tHQuEO-M_T-LnoCfI/s200/somewhere+between+rose+and+black.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b>Love poems</b><br /><br />I’ve been reading love poems.<br />All the images – falling downstairs,<br />memories in ruins, sleeping by an ocean –<br />make me want to see him,<br /><br />even though it wasn’t right then,<br />and would be wrong still now:<br />an incorrect answer to a maths problem;<br />an image that doesn’t quite fit.<br /><br />But still, I want to see him,<br />relive the kingfisher and the swans<br />and the fish and chips by the harbour<br />and the cinema with armchairs,<br /><br />in one brief meeting; lunch, perhaps.<br />We would smile, and talk about our children,<br />while thinking of other things;<br />and forget all those hotel rooms.<br /><b><br /></b><b>Brenda-Read Brown</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-mostprolific-slam-winner-uk-has.html" target="_blank">Like love</a></i><br /><br /><b>Incidence:Reflection</b><br /><br />If, in a bus station, two people (who will one day fall in love) sit opposite on red benches which fold like cinema seats, bus stations everywhere occupying, dropboxlike, these same coordinates in spacetime where each of us would know the same sparkling floor, remember the place gum is pressed behind pipes, or how all tiled walls are touched with dieselgrime and a crane fly endlessly expires in fluorescence, and if, because such halts are built to expel us, one of these two people (who are soon to fall in love) has sent his mind away to some peak with boulders and peat and melon-red grass, but the other, instead, only lopes his eyes, catching eventually the first’s, so distant with falcons and mist he thinks his gaze is clasped, headlong, such that he smiles a surprised smile which melts through thought, to recognition, and if, suddenly, these two people (who begin to fall in love) find themselves spanning those dimensions without knowing whose long glance first lit whose, is it—on reflection—a mistake?<br /><br /><b>Gram Joel Davies</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bolt-down-this-earth.html" target="_blank">Bolt Down This Earth</a></i><br /><br /><b>Apple Picking</b><br /><br />Finally, something works.<br />The tree heaves beneath the weight –<br />that first flood of fruit; we pick,<br />store, rejoice.<br /><br />Windfall offers enough to deer;<br />the branches remain full for us.<br />Green, blushing red in my hands –<br />life dressed in September colours.<br /><br />Too sharp to eat raw,<br />they soften at golden sugar, simmered flames.<br />Flour and butter crumble through my fingers,<br />ready to blanket the sweetness.<br /><br />Much is stored away. Jars, bottles,<br />anything that holds.<br />The whole ones nestle together, stalks entwined<br />in the pantry’s sleeping dark.<br /><br />We cannot contain it all.<br />Hot inside our thawing mouths, we smile<br />for each other, for the turning of earth.<br />We eat the evening, spoon by spoon.<br /><br /><b>Claire Walker</b>, <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/somewhere-between-rose-and-black.html" target="_blank">Somewhere Between Rose and Black</a></i><br /><br /><i><br /></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16KOtWS4QiFyhp-CAFetGa7Lnz7iS9ViX5hGfVGHCvp8-pYxNY8Y4nPpBT6MCnGY_hL5f1HEwripUX1-7lNDDB5lcFUCByxds6_41biQ6Eq88jfXo-WzYet_IKZWWlUqsFTdMpaaKgInJ/s1600/fragile+Houses+best.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSaJcnZPOsuEnGwVN4uu0QW3coPzJQ-V0T9mB_08W3F6sXAulF0bBHBcdCPUG43kkG1LJe5swpyN2YItMdUVljpbfGu-WO1Nrv95WYY5kY8y4OO5tuE9riA2ginIP4EbITuqJ6mso9UFh/s1600/BARNES_CHARLEY_A+Z-HEARTED+GUIDE+TO+HEARTACHE_V+Press.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1127" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSaJcnZPOsuEnGwVN4uu0QW3coPzJQ-V0T9mB_08W3F6sXAulF0bBHBcdCPUG43kkG1LJe5swpyN2YItMdUVljpbfGu-WO1Nrv95WYY5kY8y4OO5tuE9riA2ginIP4EbITuqJ6mso9UFh/s200/BARNES_CHARLEY_A+Z-HEARTED+GUIDE+TO+HEARTACHE_V+Press.jpg" width="140" /></a><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1102" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16KOtWS4QiFyhp-CAFetGa7Lnz7iS9ViX5hGfVGHCvp8-pYxNY8Y4nPpBT6MCnGY_hL5f1HEwripUX1-7lNDDB5lcFUCByxds6_41biQ6Eq88jfXo-WzYet_IKZWWlUqsFTdMpaaKgInJ/s200/fragile+Houses+best.jpg" width="137" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JtI9MQkEwhmMwirk39UIr6taEDvI6cTyLncs4d3_TgQkD1flQvN9i_4YvnHXN2dJwSEIAf6nJcdqgCpFNNKPT3UAwgNiwG5EkXKhy3MBtAe9hiGwwrwDcd9vbPfGy-3XDRWlJfNXvkBi/s1600/There%2527s+something+Macrocosmic+About+All+of+This.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="841" data-original-width="593" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JtI9MQkEwhmMwirk39UIr6taEDvI6cTyLncs4d3_TgQkD1flQvN9i_4YvnHXN2dJwSEIAf6nJcdqgCpFNNKPT3UAwgNiwG5EkXKhy3MBtAe9hiGwwrwDcd9vbPfGy-3XDRWlJfNXvkBi/s200/There%2527s+something+Macrocosmic+About+All+of+This.jpg" width="140" /></a><br /><b><br /></b><b>Dali Clock </b><br /><b><br /></b>I had the identical watch to this clock, once.<br />Bent out of shape, Roman numerals stretching<br />and shrinking, melting towards the centre.<br /><br />I didn't know him back then<br />and yet here is an object<br />we were both attracted to.<br />A perfect match.<br /><br />Glass protects hand and face<br />but it's nearly always one.<br />It has no function<br />except it stands on the second shelf<br />next to the picture of him with his godchildren –<br />all smiling and laughing.<br />A natural moment captured.<br />Next to time<br />that has stopped.<br /><b><br /></b><b>Nina Lewis</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/fragile-houses.html" target="_blank">Fragile Houses</a></i><br /><div><br /></div><b>“What Does Moonlight Smell Like?”</b><br /><br />“What do you mean?”<br /><br />“Polish? Shoe polish? No, wood polish. Lemons, but not real lemons; artificial lemons, fake lemons. Dusting cloth, artificial lemon polish. Not a fresh cloth, no. That stale cloth lemon. That musty dust of repeated disappointments and disappointing repetitions. What do you reckon it smells like? Here, take a whiff. The outside? Grass or leaves or soil or dirt or mud or rain or sand? A slight hint of ginger? Not ginger-ginger but gingerbread-ginger. Don’t look at me like that; they’re different. Moonlight smells like difficulty. It’s the opposite of triumphant – the word escapes me. It’s too passive to be resilient. You think it smells like the night? Well, what does night smell like? How do you know that the night doesn’t only smell like the night because what you can really smell is moonlight and now we’ve come to associate the smell of moonlight with the smell of the night? Which is which? Does moonlight smell the same everywhere? How about in Hawaii? I bet moonlight smells different there, or the night… Wait – wait! If the moon reflects the sun’s light, what does sunlight smell like? What is this I’m smelling? Day or night, sun or moon, light or reflection? How do we know if we’re smelling day at night-time or night at daytime? Wha–”<br /><br />“Darling, it’s only a bunch of chemicals to make the candle scented. Put it down so we can go get something to eat.”<br /><b><br /></b><b>Santino Prinzi</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/theres-something-macrocosmic-about-all.html" target="_blank">There's Something Macrocosmic About All of This</a></i><br /><br /><b>Trying too hard</b><br /><br />When I was younger trying too hard was a good thing;<br />being “too helpful” wasn’t even a phrase.<br />I spent my childhood days trying too hard<br />to stitch trying too hard into my DNA<br />because trying this hard was thought admirable.<br /><br />But when he, narrow-eyed and sharp-tongued,<br />tells grown-up me that I’m trying too damn hard,<br />he hurls the words like hardball insults.<br />My best quality is now the one that tests him<br />and his patience the most.<br /><br />So I peel back skin, pull out parts<br />of myself and begin to unpick their stitching.<br />He catches me, shakes his head, laughs, and leaves –<br />on his way out he tells me how typical it is<br />that I’m trying too hard. Again.<br /><br /><b>Charley Barnes</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/a-z-hearted-guide-to-heartache.html" target="_blank">A Z-hearted Guide to Heartache</a></i><br /><br /><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="font-family: "times new roman";"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQN5Dry2o9N9s41lRe-yTpyv6elfQIxRmvAIhUk_JrBJP1rAQDhZakd4b8JMbTGo4-nSLaEOWAVVYtDT56ztYyXPs0D4UbV2S7MAIMjH9s9kmUKHAfnnBxvYfoU5cfCeHKg-q9Lt_6LCm/s1600/Unable+Mother+Calcutt+978-1-9998444-0-0.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="431" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQN5Dry2o9N9s41lRe-yTpyv6elfQIxRmvAIhUk_JrBJP1rAQDhZakd4b8JMbTGo4-nSLaEOWAVVYtDT56ztYyXPs0D4UbV2S7MAIMjH9s9kmUKHAfnnBxvYfoU5cfCeHKg-q9Lt_6LCm/s200/Unable+Mother+Calcutt+978-1-9998444-0-0.jpg" width="126" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><b><span style="color: white;">The Gardener</span></b></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">I go to him when the lakes are quiet,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">when blossom holds its breath</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">in bluest south.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">The horses</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">have strung up their miles</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">and collect inwards towards the light –</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">coal,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">and all the dim world’s glow,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">this earth-meal and dust</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">now damp</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">and glittering in this autumn’s constant.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">All the flames that go up</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">are a mortal shout.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">The gardener’s burn,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">its heat and grain</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">reveal him in his awfulness</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">tending the ruined mass,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">this mode of a man</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">I’ve learned to love</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">tackles leaf, and loom, drags</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">the swollen bosom of wood</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">from a belly of wire</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">and bluish thistle.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">He wants it all to burn.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">We drain the lakes,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">their glass up-sends in fume,</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">their iris codes</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">flurry, and whiten the air</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">to our killing conditions –</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">in this blood-red insistence</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">committing ourselves.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">The horses walk on</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">like women through fire.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: white;">Helen Calcutt, from</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/unable-mother.html" target="_blank">Unable Mother</a></i></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s1600/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="772" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s200/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" width="128" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfCqtSaMoJ-2shkNLzFEcz9DGFvNmLvlfl4gokpV8BYVGrFCWlt4sMihojuhIY2fl7f6Ft2NSym_IcanpBNl81ZC-v03fP1SyzQcGMjXUIWeDyL2744it66ANd669UJdRRjMeN6XrQkrY/s1600/9781999844462.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1100" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfCqtSaMoJ-2shkNLzFEcz9DGFvNmLvlfl4gokpV8BYVGrFCWlt4sMihojuhIY2fl7f6Ft2NSym_IcanpBNl81ZC-v03fP1SyzQcGMjXUIWeDyL2744it66ANd669UJdRRjMeN6XrQkrY/s200/9781999844462.jpg" width="136" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNdWdIH1-T8UUW58ReNBuC85EM0wKxcudThjxzpbHgS1gzYbTM-iPM_lwmHqoOcEvM9olK40EgF0jpXnGr26XuAJp6InHBnpXRI4XIriiSALMov7n7TEWWPCo3F9igJdyfM1j-s5TA31c/s1600/Hometown-001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="448" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNdWdIH1-T8UUW58ReNBuC85EM0wKxcudThjxzpbHgS1gzYbTM-iPM_lwmHqoOcEvM9olK40EgF0jpXnGr26XuAJp6InHBnpXRI4XIriiSALMov7n7TEWWPCo3F9igJdyfM1j-s5TA31c/s200/Hometown-001.jpg" width="140" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><b>Ladybird</b><br /><br />As I peek through the gaps in the lattice fence<br />I see your face; you are looking back at me<br />from your seat in the park. There are tears<br /><br />on your cheeks, which you do not brush away.<br />You raise your hand to your lips<br />and blow me a kiss; there are many reasons<br /><br />why I can’t respond, many reasons<br />why I should not be here. Your perfection<br />draws me to you, still. Now, close to my head,<br /><br />a ladybird walks a ridge, senses my shadow,<br />senses my breath, before opening its wings<br />and flying to you. All I can do<br /><br />is stand here and wish,<br />wish I was with you<br />on that seat in the park.<br /> <br /><div><br /></div><b>John Lawrence</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_5.html" target="_blank">The boy who couldn't say his name</a></i><br /><div><br /><b>Visit Day</b><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Since Lisa said she wanted to separate a year ago, Nick had seen the word divorce at the edge of his vision; he’d heard the word when other words beginning with D had been spoken — division, divvy, detain. He’d been upset, of course, but not devastated. He’d see Lisa whenever he saw Crystal, and he felt that once they were broken up properly and time had passed, they’d have a chance to get together again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, from inside his prison cell, Nick feels the finality of the word, of the act. His three-year sentence changes everything. Divorce means throwing him out like rotten vegetables, unusable, unhealthy. Divorce will quadruple his solitude, his fear, his loneliness when they were just bearable before.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So he lifts weights at rec time, limits himself to half a pack of cigarettes a day, doesn’t complain or even grimace as he mops the vast kitchen. He brushes his teeth after every meal; he’s reading for the first time since high school — just the newspaper, but he can’t believe how much happens, how much is always going on that he never thought of before.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He works on his answers. If she says divorce, he’ll tell her about the prison’s family counseling program. If she asks how he’s doing, he says he misses her and Crystal. If she says she’ll stick with him, he won’t cry. He’ll kiss her hands before he kisses her mouth.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the day comes, Nick catches himself eating quickly and slows down. He imagines the softness of her lips and tries to remember details from the newspaper article on the fundraising drive for the zoo, so he can show he’s been reading, so he can talk about taking Crystal. He counts his steps as he walks to the visiting room, pulls his shoulders back as he enters.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s Eddie, in a blue Cubs t-shirt and jeans. They sit across from one another, and finally Nick asks, “Where’s Lisa?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Sorry, Nick, she got called into work at the last minute, so she asked me to come. Lucky I had the day off.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nick realizes he’s shaking, his whole body trembling before he wills it to stop. The voices of other prisoners and visitors rise up around them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“So you’re looking good,” Eddie says. “You been working out?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nick shakes his head. He can’t do this. He can’t make small talk. “You,” he says at last, glancing at his wedding band. “Tell me about you.”</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Carrie Etter</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/hometown.html" target="_blank">Hometown</a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>hallway</i></b></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUbQq-4QAcelhU6LaNlJgwI9bWcW-XiOQpUVk4IrmQ0lES5YHhVg8nQIqfrabsTmn3W2cihOovLIAjfS1p_M-mqXGGJ0LNaSaV9tcVjH1ngZfL0cnfzz7mhfrkyQTljEM2b7HJJK49s0m/s1600/Valentine%2527s+Keren+image.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUbQq-4QAcelhU6LaNlJgwI9bWcW-XiOQpUVk4IrmQ0lES5YHhVg8nQIqfrabsTmn3W2cihOovLIAjfS1p_M-mqXGGJ0LNaSaV9tcVjH1ngZfL0cnfzz7mhfrkyQTljEM2b7HJJK49s0m/s200/Valentine%2527s+Keren+image.jpeg" width="200" /></a><br />he presses the code she gave him<br />into the panel, fumbles<br />in the dark hallway<br />hearing his own heart quicken<br />as he taps at the door<br />tracing the sound —<br />answering footsteps<br />that move towards him<br />then seem to slow<br /><br />there’s time for both to turn<br /><br /><br /></div><div><b>Alex Reed</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/these-nights-at-home.html" target="_blank">These nights at home</a>, </i>with photos by Keren Banning</div></div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s1600/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="772" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s200/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" width="128" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s1600/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfCqtSaMoJ-2shkNLzFEcz9DGFvNmLvlfl4gokpV8BYVGrFCWlt4sMihojuhIY2fl7f6Ft2NSym_IcanpBNl81ZC-v03fP1SyzQcGMjXUIWeDyL2744it66ANd669UJdRRjMeN6XrQkrY/s1600/9781999844462.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1100" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfCqtSaMoJ-2shkNLzFEcz9DGFvNmLvlfl4gokpV8BYVGrFCWlt4sMihojuhIY2fl7f6Ft2NSym_IcanpBNl81ZC-v03fP1SyzQcGMjXUIWeDyL2744it66ANd669UJdRRjMeN6XrQkrY/s200/9781999844462.jpg" width="136" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HOgfTRXCK9n0Te89bm2eK8g-KqcmgDaBDKr5vwLShcmY3OWyTUtASMFVWUwGb5fsIWfrdoPGaWG-CgrPtW0yKnwTP6PuqYKVRzNgeDczyzkbfNBujdsE_VJ_Bcv7xKF_rDLNiaCKv8Qo/s1600/9781999844493.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1134" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HOgfTRXCK9n0Te89bm2eK8g-KqcmgDaBDKr5vwLShcmY3OWyTUtASMFVWUwGb5fsIWfrdoPGaWG-CgrPtW0yKnwTP6PuqYKVRzNgeDczyzkbfNBujdsE_VJ_Bcv7xKF_rDLNiaCKv8Qo/s200/9781999844493.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b>Seeking Miss Aether</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>“To the woman of my dreams:</i></span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I’m a mature, single male</i></span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>who enjoys the pleasures </i></span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>of classical physics.”</i></span><br /><br />You’re out there somewhere,<br />everywhere. I need you<br />to make sense of my world.<br /><br />I accept I’m old-fashioned,<br />viewpoint unchanging.<br />It was good enough for Newton.<br /><br />Young Albert insists<br />that you’re past it<br />but what does he know.<br /><br />Forget about relativity,<br />the expanding universe.<br />This is bigger.<br /><br />Darling, I’ve seen the light<br />bend, space contort<br />and I worry.<br /><br /><i>Where are you, lover?</i><br />Invisible siren, sing to me;<br />there’s still time.<br /><b><br /></b><br /><b>Martin Zarrop</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/pre-order-making-waves-now-using-paypal.html" target="_blank">Making Waves</a></i><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">A version of Seeking Miss Aether appeared in The Journal (2018)</span><br /><b><br /></b><b>Slaked</b><br /><br />Their flesh meets like a wolf nearing water<br />just before dusk, its breath unmuzzled musk<br />as it nuzzle-greets its shape, then falters…<br /><br />Eyes dip, its jaw unhooks, muscles tauten,<br />back arches, as fur sleeks to fluid lust.<br />Their flesh meets like a wolf nearing water.<br /><br />The parched beast drinks deep, wide-throated, alters<br />stance to uncloak her taste from its red husk,<br />nuzzle-greets her warm-blooded shape, falters,<br /><br />as nature’s leafy-scented young daughter<br />lays out her earth bed with its moist wood crust.<br />Their flesh meets like a wolf nearing water.<br /><br />And so she blends, just as nature’s taught her:<br />two forest torsos, soft-mossed and fern-brushed.<br />As they nuzzle-greet, their wild shape falters –<br /><br />a raindrop slides from its red-leaf altar,<br />a wolf’s tongue laps up the soft-falling dusk.<br />Their flesh meets like ripples across water,<br />nuzzle-greets its wild shape, doesn’t falter.<br /><br /><b>Sarah James</b>, from <i><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Vaginellas-Sarah-James/dp/0992611407/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1507919403&sr=8-2&keywords=the+vaginellas" target="_blank">The Vaginellas</a></i><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUbQq-4QAcelhU6LaNlJgwI9bWcW-XiOQpUVk4IrmQ0lES5YHhVg8nQIqfrabsTmn3W2cihOovLIAjfS1p_M-mqXGGJ0LNaSaV9tcVjH1ngZfL0cnfzz7mhfrkyQTljEM2b7HJJK49s0m/s1600/Valentine%2527s+Keren+image.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUbQq-4QAcelhU6LaNlJgwI9bWcW-XiOQpUVk4IrmQ0lES5YHhVg8nQIqfrabsTmn3W2cihOovLIAjfS1p_M-mqXGGJ0LNaSaV9tcVjH1ngZfL0cnfzz7mhfrkyQTljEM2b7HJJK49s0m/s320/Valentine%2527s+Keren+image.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div><b><i>at the door</i></b><br /><b><br /></b>he leans to the sound<br />of his own hand<br />tapping the dusk<br /><br />skimming the music<br />just within reach<br />of her tinting her eyes<br /><br />with blue shadow</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><b>Alex Reed</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/these-nights-at-home.html" target="_blank">These nights at home</a>, </i>with photos by Keren Banning<br /><br /><br /><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b>UnBreaking</b><br /><b><br /></b>i)<br /><br />Sometimes a heart can break.<br />Not dropped on an unyielding tile-hard floor<br />to shatter into gem-sized fragments<br />Not splintered into the knife-blade-thickness<br />of rifts in unseasoned kindling<br />Not like the unearthing of a pit of bones<br />all with fractures from soldiers’ rifle-butts<br />Not bread broken into mass-sized pieces<br />for a line of Sunday half-believers<br />Not the clean snap of a KitKat bar<br />between the V of ungloved hands<br />Not the cracking of a pensioner’s skull<br />with a baseball bat from JD Sports<br />Not the curtain of night-cloud parting<br />for a glimpse of the moon’s borrowed sunlight<br />Not the unisoned break-down of black-clad mourners<br />as their loved one finishes dying.<br /><br />ii)<br /><br />Sometimes a heart can break, but no,<br />not suddenly like that – a heart can break<br />like the crazing lines on a fire-glazed vase,<br />where the <i>ping</i> of the creeping fractures<br />goes on and on for ever. A muttered <i>no</i>,<br />a lingering <i>so what</i>, a flicker of hate<br />in a sideways glance, the unworn ridge<br />in the middle of the bed, the days<br />of making-do and the nights of fake-believe;<br />two trapped half-lives, no longer a whole.<br /><br />iii)<br /><br />Maybe, sometimes, things can unbreak –<br />the kindling and the rifle-butts and the baseball bat<br />are restored to a tree and the dead wake back to life<br />and in my dream of all dreams you can’t wait<br />to break the silence with an i-love-you;<br />yes, I want more of you and you want more of me<br />and in every crazy day together<br />there’s a carnival of things unbroken.<br /><br />Sometimes, a heart can unbreak. Maybe.<br /><div><br /></div><b><br /></b><b>John Lawrence</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_5.html" target="_blank">The boy who couldn't say his name</a></i></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7o-z2tqpPo5EhMR8yZzkjcNRtTm9ACOmiewJiHN0vvBS-kqbK8z5JlBjsj9hbRnIjzIm2Qg15U7FzcmPjl3-_9ea_uvdiQya9w-1Kfw9DTzqLcuJpWwZmVnqI2Dv724ojsTHehLmpoKyh/s1600/9781999844479.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1131" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7o-z2tqpPo5EhMR8yZzkjcNRtTm9ACOmiewJiHN0vvBS-kqbK8z5JlBjsj9hbRnIjzIm2Qg15U7FzcmPjl3-_9ea_uvdiQya9w-1Kfw9DTzqLcuJpWwZmVnqI2Dv724ojsTHehLmpoKyh/s200/9781999844479.jpg" width="141" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s1600/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="772" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJS8ejS_4MpqWpDmDGT7PYufblbbur7BCYpUxEwBovTujDXsa3UgUxeDS7__9htwwq12b9lDIJl5nMsoEldc0F0vmCTjS6MwyVE6QIO0-8MzMV7W0emvmL_JCP3JWPC0Yxi7fgO1qaGc1M/s200/LAWRENCE_JOHN_THE+BOY+WHO+COULDN%2527T+SAY+HIS+NAME_V+PRESS.jpg" width="128" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfCqtSaMoJ-2shkNLzFEcz9DGFvNmLvlfl4gokpV8BYVGrFCWlt4sMihojuhIY2fl7f6Ft2NSym_IcanpBNl81ZC-v03fP1SyzQcGMjXUIWeDyL2744it66ANd669UJdRRjMeN6XrQkrY/s1600/9781999844462.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1100" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfCqtSaMoJ-2shkNLzFEcz9DGFvNmLvlfl4gokpV8BYVGrFCWlt4sMihojuhIY2fl7f6Ft2NSym_IcanpBNl81ZC-v03fP1SyzQcGMjXUIWeDyL2744it66ANd669UJdRRjMeN6XrQkrY/s200/9781999844462.jpg" width="136" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div><b>Regeneration</b></div><div><br /></div><div>The first change was the milk – </div><div>the bottle half-full the day after</div><div>its <i>use by</i>. In time, I could make choices: </div><div>a scarlet coffee mug from eBay;</div><div>a hand-made wooden bed</div><div>with a mattress that moulded </div><div>to just my shape; daffodil-yellow paint</div><div>for the bedroom walls.</div><div><br /></div><div>We’re told we repair and renew our cells</div><div>until the end of the end day, when</div><div>we don’t. For now, I’ll top up</div><div>the salt we kept in the old wine bottle,</div><div>never knowing how many grains</div><div>remain from the day he left the house.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Jinny Fisher</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-escapologist.html" target="_blank">The Escapologist</a></i></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><div><b>Hide</b></div><div><br /></div><div>In matching North Face jackets</div><div>they sit side by side, still as herons, </div><div>talking in whispers as if a lovers’ tryst. </div><div><br /></div><div>He: a single-handed hold </div><div>on an up-market scope,</div><div>one eye on the birds, </div><div>the other tightly shut. </div><div>She: two hands grip binoculars</div><div>as though they hold a secret;</div><div>scuffed and chipped </div><div>but doing the job.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the fringe of the wetland,</div><div>two grebes declare themselves, </div><div>shake heads, ready</div><div>for their elaborate tango. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the hide, she touches his arm,</div><div>code for <i>have you seen?</i></div><div>He thinks of her in that blue cotton dress</div><div>at the dance where they met,</div><div>and nods his head.</div><div>This is no awkward silence,</div><div>this is it. Their safe word is teashop. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not what they dreamed of,</div><div>but it’ll do. </div><div><br /><br /></div></div><div><b>John Lawrence</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_5.html" target="_blank">The boy who couldn't say his name</a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUbQq-4QAcelhU6LaNlJgwI9bWcW-XiOQpUVk4IrmQ0lES5YHhVg8nQIqfrabsTmn3W2cihOovLIAjfS1p_M-mqXGGJ0LNaSaV9tcVjH1ngZfL0cnfzz7mhfrkyQTljEM2b7HJJK49s0m/s1600/Valentine%2527s+Keren+image.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUbQq-4QAcelhU6LaNlJgwI9bWcW-XiOQpUVk4IrmQ0lES5YHhVg8nQIqfrabsTmn3W2cihOovLIAjfS1p_M-mqXGGJ0LNaSaV9tcVjH1ngZfL0cnfzz7mhfrkyQTljEM2b7HJJK49s0m/s320/Valentine%2527s+Keren+image.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div><b><i>7 reasons</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>standing by her door</div><div><br /></div><div>waiting in the dark</div><div><br /></div><div>listening for her footsteps</div><div><br /></div><div>she walks towards him</div><div><br /></div><div>all his selves uncovered</div><div><br /></div><div>all the king’s horses</div><div><br /></div><div>there is no other moment</div></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Alex Reed</b>, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/these-nights-at-home.html" target="_blank">These nights at home</a>, </i>with photos by Keren Banning</div><br /><b><br /></b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HOgfTRXCK9n0Te89bm2eK8g-KqcmgDaBDKr5vwLShcmY3OWyTUtASMFVWUwGb5fsIWfrdoPGaWG-CgrPtW0yKnwTP6PuqYKVRzNgeDczyzkbfNBujdsE_VJ_Bcv7xKF_rDLNiaCKv8Qo/s1600/9781999844493.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwwm6HlIsUoWHePG6DcLfQcme5xXVFRe9g_5dMS_b2Dt8gnn4CU20WOY9XYnxwPvpK8n1VUdpELpkuiLwywem0Mq1bxtlrtQf39aA-0IjQemv1S4No4eMDzN2WT1XZMN74FWN_Ik6XTbQ/s1600/thenagasakielderversionfront.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="393" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwwm6HlIsUoWHePG6DcLfQcme5xXVFRe9g_5dMS_b2Dt8gnn4CU20WOY9XYnxwPvpK8n1VUdpELpkuiLwywem0Mq1bxtlrtQf39aA-0IjQemv1S4No4eMDzN2WT1XZMN74FWN_Ik6XTbQ/s200/thenagasakielderversionfront.jpg" width="129" /></a><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1134" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HOgfTRXCK9n0Te89bm2eK8g-KqcmgDaBDKr5vwLShcmY3OWyTUtASMFVWUwGb5fsIWfrdoPGaWG-CgrPtW0yKnwTP6PuqYKVRzNgeDczyzkbfNBujdsE_VJ_Bcv7xKF_rDLNiaCKv8Qo/s200/9781999844493.jpg" width="141" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEVOj55Hc38IWiDvd8NC4WARVw-tnB29i6kpUNtylNSuCaqy16lml8YTZcHXQakvub2Of_uQHR9myX1fMsPaMQ7qEfUbSwTKA6Ma-IyRZuyZuvkLzctSLKuonFRxuzkNgp3ZvQT7-xBvX/s1600/Three+Men+on+the+Edge+front+cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1050" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEVOj55Hc38IWiDvd8NC4WARVw-tnB29i6kpUNtylNSuCaqy16lml8YTZcHXQakvub2Of_uQHR9myX1fMsPaMQ7qEfUbSwTKA6Ma-IyRZuyZuvkLzctSLKuonFRxuzkNgp3ZvQT7-xBvX/s200/Three+Men+on+the+Edge+front+cover.jpg" width="131" /></a></div><br /><br /><b>We are made from beautiful atoms</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>After Keiji Nakazawa</i></span><br /><br />Remember, my sister,<br />we are made of beautiful atoms,<br />up there in the doll-eyed darkness,<br />our world is a teardrop from God,<br />no water is anywhere else but here –<br />remember, my sister, we are made from beautiful atoms.<br /><br />Remember, my brother,<br />we both were born and wiped <i>unclean</i>;<br />that blood of birth could connect us –<br />our mothers are portals to beautiful atoms.<br />Hold on to me, brother, I shall carry you.<br />Remember our world was once a beautiful eye<br /><br />but<br />none of us<br />saw it.<br /><b><br /></b><b>Antony Owen</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-nagasaki-elder.html" target="_blank">The Nagsaki Elder</a></i><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx0Em9SBumeaDqVXM94PKqEQMDzK7Z7knQTEPBWzL-KsZwyzS_NnYbVJwJKUTvlnwUyU-YgK5fZx3cVh1yRnSb2ToiZreR3MfVHsiSNKN4ELtwual-rVS3H9mlGMHTCJSfq17UQShoNF-/s1600/MartinZarropEntanglementrevised+version.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx0Em9SBumeaDqVXM94PKqEQMDzK7Z7knQTEPBWzL-KsZwyzS_NnYbVJwJKUTvlnwUyU-YgK5fZx3cVh1yRnSb2ToiZreR3MfVHsiSNKN4ELtwual-rVS3H9mlGMHTCJSfq17UQShoNF-/s400/MartinZarropEntanglementrevised+version.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b>Entanglement</b><br /><br />A phantom haunts the universe,<br />a quantum thread that binds our lives<br />to distant mass, refusing to let go.<br /><br />Astronomers hold to another truth:<br />as bodies move apart, attraction fades<br />and memory weighs nothing out in space.<br /><br /><i>Shut up and calculate</i><br />they tell the homesick astronaut<br />and yet<br /><br />I thought I saw her yesterday<br />and wept.<br /><br />Martin Zarrop, from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/pre-order-making-waves-now-using-paypal.html" target="_blank">Making Waves</a></i><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Entanglement also appeared in <i>Moving Pictures</i> (Cinnamon Press, 2016)</span><br /><br /><b><br /></b><b>Alarm</b><br /><br />Now and then, Faith likes to switch on her smoke alarm in the middle of the night to wake Denholm. Summoning him next-door to read the electricity or kill her spiders just hasn’t got his attention. She always gets going at about four a.m., because she wants to give Denholm one restful sleep cycle, timing her disruption such as to disarrange him no more than necessary. She leaves her windows closed and switches on the fan oven, dishwasher and tumble dryer simultaneously, since she has discovered that the combined increase in temperature is enough to trigger her temperamental heat-sensitive kitchen alarm, a method that she considers altogether more stylish than resorting to burnt toast. And, once this little monster has begun its relentless middle-of-the-night ear-pain, she leaves it screeching, ignoring the dismay of her only cat, Rupert, until the connecting alarms in the hallway and bedroom are also kicking off. The triple effect of these in the pitch of night is usually enough to rouse her dutiful neighbour. If he is sleeping quite soundly, she nudges him further by clattering chairs and slamming the stick of her broom against the adjoining wall, in a pretence of dealing with the blare. When she’s heard his first tentative step down that creaking staircase, she removes all but a trace of make-up as if caught off-guard; tangles her braid bun into a just-out-of-someone-else’s-bed look; then puts on her lilac slip, which she is certain is his favourite. She does this even though she is a happy widow now and Denholm is fifteen years her senior. She does this even though he struggles down those stairs at nights to get to her with his gammy leg. She does this because she can’t resist her need for these performances: when his fingers press her buzzer and she swings the door open, she’s always beguiled by that look on her own face.<br /><br /><b>Michael Loveday</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/three-men-on-edge.html" target="_blank">Three Men on the Edge</a></i><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhca2tr-lnW3b_1BZHGDSizDySWdnASbHHPcbNS6Db5O9ta9A8q2riUjgQIz59KBYRftdzZqViYselCjBawcboouL_7a3UMstXEe20qZFkjnCPxxYJeT0cKtcbA6evedMPzgTgp2mXsW8mj/s1600/Like+love+front+cover.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="390" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhca2tr-lnW3b_1BZHGDSizDySWdnASbHHPcbNS6Db5O9ta9A8q2riUjgQIz59KBYRftdzZqViYselCjBawcboouL_7a3UMstXEe20qZFkjnCPxxYJeT0cKtcbA6evedMPzgTgp2mXsW8mj/s200/Like+love+front+cover.jpg" width="128" /></a></div><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><br /><b>Volcanoes</b><br /><br />There was a time for volcanoes,<br />when lava burned through veins<br />and sparks spat from my eyes.<br /><br />But now, I am ready for the sofa of him,<br />for the thousandth run on his TV<br />of Toy Story or Love, Actually;<br />for the sleep that I slip into<br />as easily as his cats;<br />for his cats, his cushions, his biscuits;<br />for his non-explosive central heating.<br /><br />He should think himself lucky.<br />Volcanoes are much easier to live with<br /><br />when they’re dormant.<br /><b><br /></b><b>Brenda-Read Brown</b>, from <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-mostprolific-slam-winner-uk-has.html" target="_blank">Like love</a></i><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3cL-UZjH5QA9TYcWy_grKI_3DJvrjT-VXe1qoSgUVmdrVpIVX5W6MGHaP_b5QEZqkfDlSGVCrRUG-_8v2FnyfptsoM-jB9yyidKGJHVPSRygM18uLLUz-atE0BAASgXHXEIV6EPAfht5/s1600/v+press+valentines+pic+landscape+2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1129" data-original-width="1600" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3cL-UZjH5QA9TYcWy_grKI_3DJvrjT-VXe1qoSgUVmdrVpIVX5W6MGHaP_b5QEZqkfDlSGVCrRUG-_8v2FnyfptsoM-jB9yyidKGJHVPSRygM18uLLUz-atE0BAASgXHXEIV6EPAfht5/s400/v+press+valentines+pic+landscape+2.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><i><br /></i></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-86912492456464409182023-12-15T08:00:00.011+00:002023-12-15T10:16:36.641+00:00Seasonal greetings and some review news<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXI0yEpgbVnjG3hlgd0JCSn8A9a84iNgAN2k5a_VEmgUsRazLrU4yQ3YQItLVUqQ8gTA3_ZmGwdvrTsOb8UlwkUGrrkPqQ0nIURpU-wtSNTH8cgsuj57ZrXKmz3GwX1sA70SNVC3fa867o94lrLs1VRsGBZXNx0BGhIzwOD-XQQfVYlMcsfGMxR3DZ-gP6/s2000/festive%20greetings%20&%20happy%20New%20Year%202023%20-%20version%20to%20use%20smaller.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXI0yEpgbVnjG3hlgd0JCSn8A9a84iNgAN2k5a_VEmgUsRazLrU4yQ3YQItLVUqQ8gTA3_ZmGwdvrTsOb8UlwkUGrrkPqQ0nIURpU-wtSNTH8cgsuj57ZrXKmz3GwX1sA70SNVC3fa867o94lrLs1VRsGBZXNx0BGhIzwOD-XQQfVYlMcsfGMxR3DZ-gP6/w480-h640/festive%20greetings%20&%20happy%20New%20Year%202023%20-%20version%20to%20use%20smaller.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">Wishing all our readers, writers and supporters a wonderful festive period and a great start to 2024! Thank you for being with us this year - and here's to many more to come!</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">REVIEWS</span></p><div><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">(m)othersongs</span></a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSM-F7XsPwrshq8ymAE-iBpPFWlFBsNbzunnK69R7x58bBeE2KTfPhzpTak-c_-rZAiuH8t0P7EIdwz5_51yiKplF1dDiUytjWq1jD5dCKtARzI45l2QEeRRb6sXKieM0gV615r3aLfZVXGnX686fo9pZt3TKZ0bbY-PHTbkf5zNOHYHqrxvJtYzUeqxS/s3172/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3172" data-original-width="2196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSM-F7XsPwrshq8ymAE-iBpPFWlFBsNbzunnK69R7x58bBeE2KTfPhzpTak-c_-rZAiuH8t0P7EIdwz5_51yiKplF1dDiUytjWq1jD5dCKtARzI45l2QEeRRb6sXKieM0gV615r3aLfZVXGnX686fo9pZt3TKZ0bbY-PHTbkf5zNOHYHqrxvJtYzUeqxS/s320/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>"Frequently in this moving collection, the reader has a sharp intake of breath and is propelled into knowing something visceral about the staggering pain and regret of involuntary childlessness. There are no easy answers here. Instead, Doyle has offered us a compelling and, at times, heartbreaking voice that sings of the complexity of un-motherhood." </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><b>Diana Cant</b>, <i>London Grip</i>, full review <a href="https://londongrip.co.uk/2023/11/london-grip-poetry-review-sarah-doyle-2/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div>"‘Corn Dolly’ opens the pamphlet, with some stunning images, ‘I am stiff-skirted, wide-/ legged, fecund and// pregnant with home-/spun magic’. [...]</div><div>One poem I found particularly moving was ‘Windsong, for my mother’: ‘Forgive me those times I slipped my moorings: the safe harbour of your arms, your kitchen/ table counsel’, summed up at the end of the poem as ‘belief, courage, hope.’ The poems in this pamphlet pay tribute to this counsel."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Mary Mulholland</b>, <i>The Alchemy Spoon</i>, Issue 11</div><div><br /></div><div><div>'Sarah Doyle's striking pamphlet explores deeply personal experiences of non-motherhood, endometriosis, infertility and "the faces of children / you will not have". These are poignant and painful poems, "twisted into promise", which will resonate with all those who are coming to terms with childlessness. Despite "the othering nature of un-motherhood", as Polly Atkins so eloquently puts it, (<i>M)othersongs </i>sings of "belief, courage, hope".'</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Poetry Book Society</b>, <i>Winter Bulletin 2023</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>(M)othersongs </i>can be purchased through the Poetry Book Society <a href="https://www.poetrybooks.co.uk/products/mothersongs-by-sarah-doyle?_pos=1&_sid=c27ad4b3b&_ss=r" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>More information, a sample poem and ordering for </span><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">(m)othersongs</a> </i>by Sarah Doyle can also be found on the V. Press website <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">Last-Minute Gifts</span></div><div><br /></div><div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAiDZIkuEFhCqDkRjWjTmOc2toGzgGgt0F-8r5Q8OgTBycRtDR8XQkuflZIUKDqMGK1vp6qjZllvpnusF6q6fANv6ksNy79GYQjkk0NLkuJvkWIp5BvLmsJ9dclhtCXzQKejB4nB5lfNpTHU1AKAXyipGQ4nGwFgG7WptlhnFG4-Kf72qf1TnExEpKUggd/s2560/Set%20a%20Crow%20to%20Catch%20a%20Crow%20kindle%20cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAiDZIkuEFhCqDkRjWjTmOc2toGzgGgt0F-8r5Q8OgTBycRtDR8XQkuflZIUKDqMGK1vp6qjZllvpnusF6q6fANv6ksNy79GYQjkk0NLkuJvkWIp5BvLmsJ9dclhtCXzQKejB4nB5lfNpTHU1AKAXyipGQ4nGwFgG7WptlhnFG4-Kf72qf1TnExEpKUggd/w125-h200/Set%20a%20Crow%20to%20Catch%20a%20Crow%20kindle%20cover.jpg" width="125" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnwq84QRJ7RcXyQ7bMu4h7UORvt0s-OfM0pwKs-Yzdi8dW1MJbE8iq7J6COZxAa90MqLUiPFN_oGmN2MHTHvHgsejD1b-FjAHNbsgCQU_lIM3toWsvvN3vWadsFHdNEAGXp-JIjXzvSOmldfUhyOYYwog-V2kq_P9k3qfG_2XDw1Bj0tLaNjeSJdRJKwe-/s2048/The%20Neverlands%20by%20Damhnait%20Monaghan%20kindle%20cover%20with%20win.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnwq84QRJ7RcXyQ7bMu4h7UORvt0s-OfM0pwKs-Yzdi8dW1MJbE8iq7J6COZxAa90MqLUiPFN_oGmN2MHTHvHgsejD1b-FjAHNbsgCQU_lIM3toWsvvN3vWadsFHdNEAGXp-JIjXzvSOmldfUhyOYYwog-V2kq_P9k3qfG_2XDw1Bj0tLaNjeSJdRJKwe-/w125-h200/The%20Neverlands%20by%20Damhnait%20Monaghan%20kindle%20cover%20with%20win.jpg" width="125" /></a><br /></div>Finally, just a reminder that, if you're looking for a last-minute gift or find yourself with spare time over the festive break and want something to read, we do have some flash fiction titles available on Kindle. You can find more details on our fiction list <a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/fiction.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-27285794202893007582023-11-24T00:00:00.007+00:002023-11-24T00:00:00.154+00:00Launching Brother<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPa7qXqhoyR6lYAKDbqZYzO_8Lv6f62lh0fr-_adkIFSPUYRRZ6nAjqGEuubweyHulMMkGRunzBuPYSb_pGppVK2eVCW6RSZO20MLlrltzGNFy0hdWmIkyfRKg-s5j1nI6fWSLM_YIQ3eLzDA5Qro4ZEDGu1xTu8QSt7XGR_3-fL7JwItv76rb5yKNiwqZ/s2754/9781739883898.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2754" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPa7qXqhoyR6lYAKDbqZYzO_8Lv6f62lh0fr-_adkIFSPUYRRZ6nAjqGEuubweyHulMMkGRunzBuPYSb_pGppVK2eVCW6RSZO20MLlrltzGNFy0hdWmIkyfRKg-s5j1nI6fWSLM_YIQ3eLzDA5Qro4ZEDGu1xTu8QSt7XGR_3-fL7JwItv76rb5yKNiwqZ/s320/9781739883898.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><p>V. Press is very very delighted to share the publication of <i>Brother</i>, a chapbook/pamphlet of poems by Sheila Lockhart.</p><p>“Sheila Lockhart has created something special with this pamphlet. <i>Brother</i> is a poignant study of remembrance but one that manages to be almost joyful in its close observation of this lost life and the still-living world that goes on without it. It is special writing – clear, brightly configured, riven by pain, and perfectly formed.”</p><p><b>Niall Campbell</b></p><p>“These calm and clear-eyed poems are remarkable in their refusal to be afraid. Holding darkness and light in delicate balance, they move from suffering and loss into what comes afterwards and later, finding consolation in the dogged aliveness of the natural world and, no less importantly, in the patterns and shapes of language itself. Sheila Lockhart has written a bold and beautiful book.”<br /><b>Katharine Towers<br /><br /></b>The poems in <i>Brother</i> are a very heart-felt and very unflinching consideration of grief and healing after suicide.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-9-8<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <br />36 pages<br />R.R.P. £6.50</p>
<div><div>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">BUY <i>BROTHER</i> NOW using the paypal options below.</span> </div></div>
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</div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Gaia</b></div><div><br /></div><div>In my arms you hardly weighed a thing,</div><div>the day I returned you to our Mother. </div><div><br /></div><div>She spread herself wide to receive you. </div><div>Then locked her doors forever. </div><div><br /></div><div>The adamantine scythe left so little</div><div>when it cut you. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, there was plenty of blood, </div><div>but where was all the rest? A seed </div><div><br /></div><div>forced into my heart, tangled roots. </div><div>I remember how thirsty you were, </div><div><br /></div><div>how your dust soaked up the rain. </div><div>How the roses blossomed. </div><div> </div></div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-67349482358288318852023-11-13T08:28:00.000+00:002023-11-13T08:28:47.303+00:00Exciting news!<p><span>V. Press is very very delighted to share an exciting prize announcement as well as a whole batch of wonderful reviews, recent/forthcoming titles and events news.</span></p><p><i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> by Nicola Warwick has been shortlisted in the poetry category of the coveted East Anglian Book Awards 2023, which celebrate the very best of publishing, writing, and reading in the region.</p><p>V. Press is so pleased to see this beautiful pamphlet recognised and sends big congratulations to Nicola that can probably be heard all the way from Worcestershire to East Anglia!</p><p>The full shortlists for all categories of the award can be found <a href="https://nationalcentreforwriting.org.uk/writing-hub/east-anglian-book-awards-2023-shortlist-announced/" target="_blank">here</a> and the category winners will be announced in the Eastern Daily Press in January.</p><p>The winning book from each category will be considered by a final judging panel of representatives from Jarrolds, Eastern Daily Press, National Centre for Writing and University of East Anglia. One of these six finalists will then go on to win the overall Book of the Year Award announced later that year.</p><p>Meanwhile, you can find details below of a recent review of <i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> and a forthcoming online V. Press showcase that Nicola will be reading at.</p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">REVIEW NEWS</span></b></p><p><i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not Enough Rage</span></a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2vDKU3NQQyV8P7A0NSDeH66VkosRGqYToOO1x2gpq5Rj7eSiFEHUEdCLuhNVtl7fhSqknbJ0McWIZC-HBSXXL3fkngNWSlOHfpKpITcnGuxBZCiEpAkXOqN5ttQWPnuT6Tt9GZQNr_zUBT4nBVhXHo2J9P3mad7ezqANjTAAyXgB8c24k_gTTx3oezEt/s3402/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3402" data-original-width="2220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2vDKU3NQQyV8P7A0NSDeH66VkosRGqYToOO1x2gpq5Rj7eSiFEHUEdCLuhNVtl7fhSqknbJ0McWIZC-HBSXXL3fkngNWSlOHfpKpITcnGuxBZCiEpAkXOqN5ttQWPnuT6Tt9GZQNr_zUBT4nBVhXHo2J9P3mad7ezqANjTAAyXgB8c24k_gTTx3oezEt/s320/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>"Davies’ first collection, <i>Bolt Down This Earth</i>, also published by V. Press in 2017, was an exciting debut which I believe was the first book I reviewed for Litter online. The follow-up is a mature collection, reflecting some of the same preoccupations but with the distance of time and experience to bring both focus and depth to what is essentially a very personal outlook on the modern world. <p></p><div><div><br /></div><div>"The subject matter involves issues of class, rural life, the relationship between virtual and ‘real’ reality, claustrophobia (in its broadest sense), poverty and disaffection based on circumstance and questions of mental health. [...]</div><div> </div><div>"These poems are filled with anxiety and disturbing imagery yet they are also very much of their time, here and now, a present filled with uncertainty and a future best not projected into. There’s a confidence though, reflected in the form and variety of the writing [...]"</div></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Steve Spence</b>, <i>Litter</i>, full review <a href="https://www.littermagazine.com/2023/10/review-not-enough-rage-by-gram-joel.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>"Gram Joel Davies turns a forensic eye to working class life in these poems, amplifying the voices of the disadvantaged who are too busy existing and have too much to lose in feeling the rage to overturn systematic oppressions he wants to draw attention to. </div><div><br /></div><div>"It is so refreshing to read about working class life without feeling as if the writer is just ranting or using ‘edgy’ vocabulary to trot out stereotypes. Davies is raw and chronicles lives that get overlooked and does so with craft and class."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Emma Lee</b>, <i>Emma Lee's Blog</i>, full review <a href="https://emmalee1.wordpress.com/2023/10/25/not-enough-rage-gram-joel-davies-v-press-book-review/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">Not Enough Rage</a> </i>is also November and December's Featured Publication on <i>Atrium</i> <a href="https://atriumpoetry.com/2023/11/05/featured-publication-not-enough-rage-by-gram-joel-davies/#like-4938" target="_blank">here</a>, including three sample poems from the collection.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">Not Enough Rage</a></i> can be found </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="text-align: justify;">.</span></div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">(m)othersongs</a></i> </span></div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4fmDULBc5Gd82hZT9iXhbNshPy0XwTYb8EhKT4dkN5CA1rJFZPAVDjWhsZRuYF2yUzixS1izTKaMgwAg7gth2XEZIxGJhSS9uQXxbexoaHXz5CETVdNbyVdbwjCRx3cKWn_-iyIIGojTNTmAfAc10M461x7LAal_VGDa_MlmXIG3bqs-YkpkIEEIF2E3/s3172/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3172" data-original-width="2196" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4fmDULBc5Gd82hZT9iXhbNshPy0XwTYb8EhKT4dkN5CA1rJFZPAVDjWhsZRuYF2yUzixS1izTKaMgwAg7gth2XEZIxGJhSS9uQXxbexoaHXz5CETVdNbyVdbwjCRx3cKWn_-iyIIGojTNTmAfAc10M461x7LAal_VGDa_MlmXIG3bqs-YkpkIEEIF2E3/w139-h200/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" width="139" /></a></div><br />"Sarah Doyle's latest V. Press pamphlet, <i>(m)othersongs</i>, is a gorgeous, courageous publication. At the centre is a woman's experience of reaching middle age, having been unable to bear a child. Doyle's poems are a "complex harvest". Her willingness to be vulnerable, and her arresting language, creativity, and attention to craft make this collection shine."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><b>Robin Blackburn McBride</b>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8pG11rhxH/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">(m)othersongs</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;">Sarah can also be heard reading some of her </span></span><span style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">(m)othersongs</a> poems and talking about</span> (m)otherhood, menstruation and more with Wendy Allen and Charley Barnes on the <i>What we've been reading</i> podcast <a href="https://open.spotify.com/episode/02ebjU4oWkAypdhUvshNqA?si=fe0b23e16b464035&nd=1" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Beautiful Open Sky</span></a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7RiIaogvWv3XWvaZh43rLYBX_wOjgCNvatS2bZornbFzHLqO-YleiP4gaIrTOvSmE8bp7H0-WM6ttb1_hGipzjZLcDLgCf_ohKhLpflyg_bGFGvbAAdMtNJgWth937CFoG018Ckz5ctxNeSJtJ8hamOE7qG_5tY4fGkxJqPuniKaKlf26WuAC-t-DO7l/s849/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="598" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7RiIaogvWv3XWvaZh43rLYBX_wOjgCNvatS2bZornbFzHLqO-YleiP4gaIrTOvSmE8bp7H0-WM6ttb1_hGipzjZLcDLgCf_ohKhLpflyg_bGFGvbAAdMtNJgWth937CFoG018Ckz5ctxNeSJtJ8hamOE7qG_5tY4fGkxJqPuniKaKlf26WuAC-t-DO7l/w141-h200/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br />"In <i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i>, also published by V. Press, Hannah Linden shows what it is for a child to be emotionally abandoned by her mother. As the work unfolds, Linden reveals the later struggles of that grown child, a single mum making a life with her family in social housing. Offsetting the serious subject matter is the poet's quirky humour. A haunting and tender study of resilience."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><b>Robin Blackburn McBride</b>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8pG11rhxH/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GkOXUdbXm3mj18t3_QyVKR9Yw0IZVqiy7TYB21zJ8g8HRKbLJu2ZErQgGowv0sWy0c7HENEq_-m-5jIyglD0cErJVtjELi3UK9tJwplrOT53T3TlbT7BV_xOp7UgS59YDIlSUXAci4aNtKXRfAU2dT4gb8pjaX7pabG_F6bnB1w9bFrEZ-Agw9SoDmUQ/s2460/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2460" data-original-width="1728" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GkOXUdbXm3mj18t3_QyVKR9Yw0IZVqiy7TYB21zJ8g8HRKbLJu2ZErQgGowv0sWy0c7HENEq_-m-5jIyglD0cErJVtjELi3UK9tJwplrOT53T3TlbT7BV_xOp7UgS59YDIlSUXAci4aNtKXRfAU2dT4gb8pjaX7pabG_F6bnB1w9bFrEZ-Agw9SoDmUQ/w141-h200/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" width="141" /></a></div><br />"Her poems are moments of unsettling tension between the symmetry we see of ourselves in nature, and our oblivious disconnect. Warwick’s subtle glimpses of the individuals in her poems are unpredictably moving. Warwick shows us trying to bring the universe closer. Going to sleep, we still hope the birds outside call us to join our portion to the whole, as: ‘I watch them from the window for their exodus, / Count them out, count them all back in’."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><b>Wendy Kyle</b>, <i>London Grip</i>, full review <a href="https://londongrip.co.uk/2023/11/london-grip-poetry-review-nicola-warwick/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><b>RECENTLY RELEASED</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" onsubmit="return confirm('Please ensure you have selected the correct shipping option: UK only or Rest of World? (NB International customers may be required to pay customs duties upon delivery)');" target="_top"><div><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">NOT ENOUGH RAGE</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div></form><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s3402/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3402" data-original-width="2220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s320/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><div>“It’s rare for me to recognise, and feel kinship for, a lot of contemporary poetry. I recognise and feel kinship with this. <i>Not Enough Rage</i> is like a series of controlled explosions. Trembling houses. A burning voice. Experience dismantled and sewn back together with glowing needles and a mouth full of stars.”</div><p><b>Bobby Parker</b></p><p>“Like a Dylan Thomas of the age of mental illness, Gram Joel Davies leaps and flies through the world with dark exuberance. These are speakable poems, full of love for unlovable places and impossible people. In touch with but not tied to rap's rhymes and rhythms, this collection, for me, shifts the modern world into the painful focus of real poetry.” <br /><b>Peter Oswald</b></p><p><i>Not Enough Rage</i> is very heady and very gutsy.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-7-4<br />62 pages<br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p>More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>TURN AROUND WHEN POSSIBLE</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX7oxX3oN17BlcTaaFjG4QBCHiokH3OSh4ONhwbrneSI39x1BTVIJXZot6nomi6B3CngnzbQlMl2ZsrGvwegSfc1Z-zrppowVkDHnvQQ9PDizy_zevblzO_sAosUzrqejAShjIHFxmn0ccWBt4MZYFe0FR3nyChYHkrlF6C0TBOZpHPUG55BJ4epPWA/s3293/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3293" data-original-width="2157" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX7oxX3oN17BlcTaaFjG4QBCHiokH3OSh4ONhwbrneSI39x1BTVIJXZot6nomi6B3CngnzbQlMl2ZsrGvwegSfc1Z-zrppowVkDHnvQQ9PDizy_zevblzO_sAosUzrqejAShjIHFxmn0ccWBt4MZYFe0FR3nyChYHkrlF6C0TBOZpHPUG55BJ4epPWA/s320/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><p>“Combining a scientific eye with a poetic sensibility (and a sharp sense of humour), Martin Zarrop’s work is thought-provoking and wry. These poems take the long view and they never shy away from difficulty, each expertly using form to amplify content. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is an enlightening, enjoyable read.”</p><p><b>Helen Mort</b></p><p>“Whether he is looking back fondly on the seemingly mundane details of a working-class childhood or exploring the vastness of interstellar space, Martin Zarrop’s poems are distinguished by their metaphysical wit, humour, and sheer accessibility. There is a mathematical precision to every poem in this collection, a focus on details, that leads inevitably and, with a minimum of fuss, to memorable insights into love, affection, the ineluctable passage of time, and humanity’s place in the universe. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is a delight from start to finish and shows Zarrop writing at the height of his very considerable powers.”<br /><b>David Cooke</b></p><p><i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is very uncertain and very quirky.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-8-1<br />74 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p>More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"><b>OUT LATER THIS MONTH...</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNMLgIGKOJV78ve31Lnzqkj0vTGWai6_8gcr7DxrlG_ummTsxeNMRiu_3YAz1s5gU3GFyohM7irN5CNeuKzrbhS0H-RJ0WI-RKfzyDE5hUEeqMKYLP_Z_-NYv1n02vTQqYrVaT6s-oav1LQNOWBoQP0j-vGKzCkykvoBLJaSxzgXYH233suikWHkg80Vr/s2754/9781739883898.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2754" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNMLgIGKOJV78ve31Lnzqkj0vTGWai6_8gcr7DxrlG_ummTsxeNMRiu_3YAz1s5gU3GFyohM7irN5CNeuKzrbhS0H-RJ0WI-RKfzyDE5hUEeqMKYLP_Z_-NYv1n02vTQqYrVaT6s-oav1LQNOWBoQP0j-vGKzCkykvoBLJaSxzgXYH233suikWHkg80Vr/s320/9781739883898.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;">“Sheila Lockhart has created something special with this pamphlet. </span><i style="text-align: left;">Brother</i><span style="text-align: left;"> is a poignant study of remembrance but one that manages to be almost joyful in its close observation of this lost life and the still-living world that goes on without it. It is special writing – clear, brightly configured, riven by pain, and perfectly formed.”</span><br style="text-align: left;" /><b style="text-align: left;">Niall Campbell</b><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;">“These calm and clear-eyed poems are remarkable in their refusal to be afraid. Holding darkness and light in delicate balance, they move from suffering and loss into what comes afterwards and later, finding consolation in the dogged aliveness of the natural world and, no less importantly, in the patterns and shapes of language itself. Sheila Lockhart has written a bold and beautiful book.”<br /><b>Katharine Towers<br /><br /></b>The poems in <i>Brother</i> are a very heart-felt and very unflinching consideration of grief and healing after suicide.</p><p style="text-align: left;">ISBN: 978-1-7398838-9-8<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <br />36 pages<br />R.R.P. £6.50</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and pre-ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/brother.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">EVENTS</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uvdmewErURF1LyTXjFX5KKbHHWNa0Bhs43-viThI6DgFs2fSlxoAvg8iqA_wPTkfpz5DG3WbCpoZaz7qPkrDSzeWPWqpaHPcEc3HxP0Pb3-Mj9MRNdIb9oDJg2tvXotv6wy_leJWBl4vYDyM4L9wdsIoaFDtAVPbtrAStRRz5r5KcxH28M7Wx0Fbw4Fm/s754/V.%20Press%20Showcase,%201st%20Dec%202023.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="533" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uvdmewErURF1LyTXjFX5KKbHHWNa0Bhs43-viThI6DgFs2fSlxoAvg8iqA_wPTkfpz5DG3WbCpoZaz7qPkrDSzeWPWqpaHPcEc3HxP0Pb3-Mj9MRNdIb9oDJg2tvXotv6wy_leJWBl4vYDyM4L9wdsIoaFDtAVPbtrAStRRz5r5KcxH28M7Wx0Fbw4Fm/w453-h640/V.%20Press%20Showcase,%201st%20Dec%202023.png" width="453" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Martin Zarrop will also be reading from his new V. Press collection, <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" target="_blank">Turn Around When Possible</a>,</i> at a range of forthcoming events:</div><div><br /></div><div>Friday, 17 Nov 2023, 7pm at Manchester Poets, Chorlton Library, Manchester Road M21 9PN;</div><div><br /></div><div>Wednesday, 22 Nov 2023, 7.30pm at Wednesday Writers, Golden Lion, Fielden Sq, Todmorden OL14 6LZ;</div><div><br /></div><div>Wednesday, 6 Dec 2023, 7pm at Black Cat Poets, The Locks Coffee House,13-15 Derby St, Marple SK6 7AH;</div><div><br /></div><div>Thursday, 7 Dec2023, 7pm at First Thursday, Linghams Bookshop, 248 Telegraph Rd, Heswall, Wirral, CH60 7SG;</div><div><br /></div><div>Monday, 5 Feb 2024, 7.30pm at Poems & Pints, The Button Warehouse, Stanley St, Macclesfield SK11 6AU.</div><div><br /></div></span></div></span></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-69439196306405585522023-11-06T00:00:00.001+00:002023-11-06T00:00:00.135+00:00Launching Turn Around When Possible<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX7oxX3oN17BlcTaaFjG4QBCHiokH3OSh4ONhwbrneSI39x1BTVIJXZot6nomi6B3CngnzbQlMl2ZsrGvwegSfc1Z-zrppowVkDHnvQQ9PDizy_zevblzO_sAosUzrqejAShjIHFxmn0ccWBt4MZYFe0FR3nyChYHkrlF6C0TBOZpHPUG55BJ4epPWA/s3293/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3293" data-original-width="2157" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX7oxX3oN17BlcTaaFjG4QBCHiokH3OSh4ONhwbrneSI39x1BTVIJXZot6nomi6B3CngnzbQlMl2ZsrGvwegSfc1Z-zrppowVkDHnvQQ9PDizy_zevblzO_sAosUzrqejAShjIHFxmn0ccWBt4MZYFe0FR3nyChYHkrlF6C0TBOZpHPUG55BJ4epPWA/s320/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><p>V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> by Martin Zarrop.</p><p>“Combining a scientific eye with a poetic sensibility (and a sharp sense of humour), Martin Zarrop’s work is thought-provoking and wry. These poems take the long view and they never shy away from difficulty, each expertly using form to amplify content. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is an enlightening, enjoyable read.”</p><p><b>Helen Mort</b></p><p>“Whether he is looking back fondly on the seemingly mundane details of a working-class childhood or exploring the vastness of interstellar space, Martin Zarrop’s poems are distinguished by their metaphysical wit, humour, and sheer accessibility. There is a mathematical precision to every poem in this collection, a focus on details, that leads inevitably and, with a minimum of fuss, to memorable insights into love, affection, the ineluctable passage of time, and humanity’s place in the universe. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is a delight from start to finish and shows Zarrop writing at the height of his very considerable powers.”<br /><b>David Cooke</b></p><p><i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is very uncertain and very quirky.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-8-1<br />74 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p>
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<div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Achievement</b><br /><br /></div><div>Grumbling thunder gently shakes<br />the grimy windows, as he takes<br />his medication. Breakfast news <br />depresses. He sips coffee, guesses<br />it will rain, decides he must abort<br />the routine of his daily walk.</div><div><br />The clock is striking eight, then ten.<br />He’ll find some other way (again!)<br />to pass the time. Another cryptic?<br />Out of sight the slow tick-tick <br />of something drip drip dripping<br />from behind the bathroom light.</div><div><br />The phone is shrill. Is someone dead? <br /><i>Hello, Sir – sorry – my name’s Smith.</i><br />A class parades inside his head.<br /><i>You used to teach me in the sixth…</i><br /><i>Oh, I recall – it’s thirty years<br />and I’m still here, but my dear wife…</i></div><div><br /><i>I only rang to thank you, Sir,<br />for making such a difference to my life.</i><br /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-55715416941611771072023-10-16T00:00:00.008+01:002023-10-16T00:00:00.142+01:00Launching Not Enough Rage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s3402/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3402" data-original-width="2220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s320/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><p>V. Press is very very excited to launch <i>Not Enough Rage</i> by Gram Joel Davies.</p><p>“It’s rare for me to recognise, and feel kinship for, a lot of contemporary poetry. I recognise and feel kinship with this. <i>Not Enough Rage</i> is like a series of controlled explosions. Trembling houses. A burning voice. Experience dismantled and sewn back together with glowing needles and a mouth full of stars.”</p><p><b>Bobby Parker</b></p><p>“Like a Dylan Thomas of the age of mental illness, Gram Joel Davies leaps and flies through the world with dark exuberance. These are speakable poems, full of love for unlovable places and impossible people. In touch with but not tied to rap's rhymes and rhythms, this collection, for me, shifts the modern world into the painful focus of real poetry.” <br /><b>Peter Oswald</b></p><p><i>Not Enough Rage</i> is very heady and very gutsy.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-7-4<br />62 pages<br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BUY <i>NOT ENOUGH RAGE</i> NOW using the paypal options below.</span> </p>
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<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Tourist in My Own Town</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Nobody chooses which home to grow up in.</div><div>I’ve become like gapers or beachcombers,</div><div>where the houses overlook a tar-stained groyne.</div><div>Our terrace, filled by other lives,</div><div>a street that centres on the eye</div><div>like sea horizon. There, a door</div><div>I stood one time.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the form of flip-flopper or pebble-hoarder,</div><div>I’ve imagined ways it could have been</div><div>– no polished bone – another middle house.</div><div>No mother who ate mussels closed or talked</div><div>towards her children as if ready-grown.</div><div>In the home I didn’t choose. On the step </div><div>I stood alone. Out along the sound:</div><div>three doors down.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I’ve turned to paddler, dipper dabbling</div><div>in rockpool life. Beyond the briny walls</div><div>in which a father may have pinched himself</div><div>and woken up a hermit, crabshelled,</div><div>sunken with a chest of gold</div><div>tobacco and green wine. Not the home</div><div>I wanted then – out along the prom</div><div>some length – three before the end.</div><div><br /></div><div>I’ve taken on the faces of the flingers</div><div>and the fetchers, reckoning the lookout hut,</div><div>whose windows ring its stippled sections,</div><div>was the place a sister (last who fled)</div><div>once pierced her lips and other places,</div><div>painted all points red. Not a home selected,</div><div>on the edge of land. Sleeves rolled downward,</div><div>three along the strand.</div><div><br /></div><div>From deck chairs by the channels, curved</div><div>through sandbanks, where I’ve consumed</div><div>the views of masted roofs, and thought about</div><div>a brother who took every brunt and buffet.</div><div>How, perhaps, he caught a wave.</div><div>This isn’t where I meant to be, three</div><div>before the end, out from the mainland.</div><div>Bucking on the trend.</div></div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-73973026330508665562023-09-29T00:00:00.018+01:002023-09-29T09:05:23.671+01:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFXYfkGL2KOoQTe3S4hINkd7xJCBRlJBozIZKkAIBlueS9lYMboj5TcDqHUuEbo1TRcDl3WtBHT9luBECYsacqvGK43MI3KDFJvHxz201y4DDrwYOOHFEXJs6XW7mJe-KJcF62PZEeVS0gU005iMnvWfNlapO1Auotep0z-iVXz9_6YgDIHtTIKLhxY0X/s3124/V.%20Press%20V%20of%20titles%202023.png" style="background-color: #444444; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3124" data-original-width="2548" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFXYfkGL2KOoQTe3S4hINkd7xJCBRlJBozIZKkAIBlueS9lYMboj5TcDqHUuEbo1TRcDl3WtBHT9luBECYsacqvGK43MI3KDFJvHxz201y4DDrwYOOHFEXJs6XW7mJe-KJcF62PZEeVS0gU005iMnvWfNlapO1Auotep0z-iVXz9_6YgDIHtTIKLhxY0X/s320/V.%20Press%20V%20of%20titles%202023.png" width="261" /></a></div> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">V. Press is very very happy to head into the autumn with news of forthcoming titles and a £500 donation to The Woodland Trust.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">This is our second donation to the trust since we began publishing (2013
for a single chapbook anthology, then 2015 for our first solo-authored titles).
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: #444444; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: white;">As a small press, one of our guiding principles is to operate as fairly
and sustainably as we can within our limited resources. Many of our titles are
print editions, using card and paper made from trees, hence our donation to a
cause that looks after trees. (We also use recycled paper for our collections
and FSC accredited paper for our pamphlets).</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="vertical-align: baseline;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">The photo above is V.
Press’s six titles for this year’s Michael Marks Pamphlets Awards at the top: </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Powerless Rangers</span></i></a><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">by Jack McGowan, </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">The Human Portion</span></i></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;"> by Nicola Warwick, </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">bed</span></i></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;"> by Georgia Gildea, </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Braised in Wine</span></i></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;"> by D.D. Holland, </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/dancing-in-babylon.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/dancing-in-babylon.html"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Dancing in Babylon</span></i></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;"> by Elaine Baker and </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">(m)othersongs</span></i></a><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;"> by Sarah
Doyle. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">The base features two
full collections out in October and November this year:</span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">
</span></i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Not Enough
Rage</span></i></a><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> (October) by Gram Joel Davies and </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" title="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Turn Around
When Possible</span></i></a><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> (November) by Martin Zarrop</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">. </span><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/brother.html"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">Brother</span></i></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;"> by Sheila Lockhart
is our final pamphlet for the year (out at the end of November 2023).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-themecolor: text1;">More information about these titles can be found by following the links,
and details of our two most recent and our three forthcoming titles can also be
enjoyed below.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">RECENTLY RELEASED</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>DANCING IN BABYLON</i></b></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cs1nJ5S80jKeLTLuMyHbOfydM-WdtNfTXaHD_op5nCKLI3mMRvJsnKtBqNbuvaj0GjZpRe1e0kboNmb_Kf2zNF60ZkOPLL6rqcqRPhudqA3dlVrYqCGCz_A24X4GnUEPZm__JQn6oZwPZjdIxFD0ONRrGcNAcbP3w73K3-1kNyak--KcosHeMo1VlQ3_/s2464/Dancing%20in%20Babylon%20Elaine%20Baker%20V.%20Press.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="1740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cs1nJ5S80jKeLTLuMyHbOfydM-WdtNfTXaHD_op5nCKLI3mMRvJsnKtBqNbuvaj0GjZpRe1e0kboNmb_Kf2zNF60ZkOPLL6rqcqRPhudqA3dlVrYqCGCz_A24X4GnUEPZm__JQn6oZwPZjdIxFD0ONRrGcNAcbP3w73K3-1kNyak--KcosHeMo1VlQ3_/s320/Dancing%20in%20Babylon%20Elaine%20Baker%20V.%20Press.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><span style="text-align: justify;">“Situated in the city of the apocalypse, and arranged as a play, this is a gentle and haunting sequence of poems. Within an anxiety-infused landscape of constant peril, Baker’s skillful narrator offers a counterbalance to the darkness of uncertainty. What ultimately triumphs here is the light, joy and beauty of what it is to love and be loved. These graceful, musical and emotionally resonant poems beautifully unfold their story of hope.” </span><b style="text-align: justify;">Vanessa Lampert</b><p style="text-align: justify;">“These poems are startling in their emotional clarity. They capture the surreal disconnection of lockdown as well as celebrating what a joy it is to be together once more. They are filled with a quietly powerful sense of wonder that is both passionate and melancholy. From tango dancers to taxi cab drivers, they draw us into a world that is heart-breaking in its beauty.” <br /><b>Aoife Mannix </b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Dancing in Babylon</i> is very elegiac and very cathartic.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">ISBN: 978-1-7394122-0-3</p><p style="text-align: justify;">36 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">R.R.P. £6.50</p><p style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/dancing-in-babylon.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>(M)OTHERSONGS</i></b></p><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" onsubmit="return confirm('Please ensure you have selected the correct shipping option: UK only or Rest of World? (NB International customers may be required to pay customs duties upon delivery)');" style="text-align: justify;" target="_top"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ouCqpd4RauLunR5uxnKReiVvaeOGLhrKB4fqRiHlPboj5XRW4Zj-s3iOSnKFyHF415Ajnqg_3vt_xIvn8ADpP-wEiRRQp0q3k_UyC8Nl1phTiOTLuKoxapJ8qNkemWqUytSe5v9pXo-lbQ7sKgZ7Q1ZYzdr73DHiJICQp1wtqDHm3U1pX5xN4Oa7eJ25/s3172/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3172" data-original-width="2196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ouCqpd4RauLunR5uxnKReiVvaeOGLhrKB4fqRiHlPboj5XRW4Zj-s3iOSnKFyHF415Ajnqg_3vt_xIvn8ADpP-wEiRRQp0q3k_UyC8Nl1phTiOTLuKoxapJ8qNkemWqUytSe5v9pXo-lbQ7sKgZ7Q1ZYzdr73DHiJICQp1wtqDHm3U1pX5xN4Oa7eJ25/s320/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>“<i>(m)othersongs</i> is a moving, visceral exploration of the othering nature of un-motherhood. Body-shame, medical misogyny and grief are exorcised in shape-shifting forms with veins of pain running through them, in which everything from cloud formations to sea gooseberries on a shoreline speak of the changing seasons of the human body. This is a world where ‘wooden babies’ and rag dolls are born in place of children, and the womb – a ‘special bedroom’ haunted by endometriosis, fibroids and myths of creation – is surrendered with the mantra – ‘it’s only a pocket, and one you’re not using’. Both heartbreaking and strangely transporting, these are powerful and necessary poems.”<br /><b>Polly Atkin</b><p></p><p> “<i>(m)othersongs </i>is one of those rare examples of a collection of poetry that is both moving in content and accomplished in form. Each poem is expertly crafted, with a skilled use of structured form alongside beautifully crafted free verse. This textured and vibrant collection does not hold back, it faces the pain of endometriosis and infertility and holds that pain up to the light as valid experience of womanhood. The poetry world is enriched by this collection, and I shall return to it.”<br /><b>Wendy Pratt</b></p><p><i>(m)othersongs</i> is very meteorological and very moonlit.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-6-7<br />32 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />RRP £6.50</p><p>More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p>A poem from <i>(m)othersongs</i> is also being featured on the Mary Evans Picture Library <a href="https://www.maryevans.com/poetry.php?post_id=13026&view=poem&prv=poem" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;">NOW AVAILABLE TO PRE-ORDER</span></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><i>NOT ENOUGH RAGE</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div></form><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s3402/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3402" data-original-width="2220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s320/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“It’s rare for me to recognise, and feel kinship for, a lot of contemporary poetry. I recognise and feel kinship with this. <i>Not Enough Rage</i> is like a series of controlled explosions. Trembling houses. A burning voice. Experience dismantled and sewn back together with glowing needles and a mouth full of stars.”</div><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Bobby Parker</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">“Like a Dylan Thomas of the age of mental illness, Gram Joel Davies leaps and flies through the world with dark exuberance. These are speakable poems, full of love for unlovable places and impossible people. In touch with but not tied to rap's rhymes and rhythms, this collection, for me, shifts the modern world into the painful focus of real poetry.” <br /><b>Peter Oswald</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Not Enough Rage</i> is very heady and very gutsy.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">ISBN: 978-1-7398838-7-4<br />62 pages<br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><b><i>TURN AROUND WHEN POSSIBLE</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX7oxX3oN17BlcTaaFjG4QBCHiokH3OSh4ONhwbrneSI39x1BTVIJXZot6nomi6B3CngnzbQlMl2ZsrGvwegSfc1Z-zrppowVkDHnvQQ9PDizy_zevblzO_sAosUzrqejAShjIHFxmn0ccWBt4MZYFe0FR3nyChYHkrlF6C0TBOZpHPUG55BJ4epPWA/s3293/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3293" data-original-width="2157" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX7oxX3oN17BlcTaaFjG4QBCHiokH3OSh4ONhwbrneSI39x1BTVIJXZot6nomi6B3CngnzbQlMl2ZsrGvwegSfc1Z-zrppowVkDHnvQQ9PDizy_zevblzO_sAosUzrqejAShjIHFxmn0ccWBt4MZYFe0FR3nyChYHkrlF6C0TBOZpHPUG55BJ4epPWA/s320/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">“Combining a scientific eye with a poetic sensibility (and a sharp sense of humour), Martin Zarrop’s work is thought-provoking and wry. These poems take the long view and they never shy away from difficulty, each expertly using form to amplify content. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is an enlightening, enjoyable read.”</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Helen Mort</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">“Whether he is looking back fondly on the seemingly mundane details of a working-class childhood or exploring the vastness of interstellar space, Martin Zarrop’s poems are distinguished by their metaphysical wit, humour, and sheer accessibility. There is a mathematical precision to every poem in this collection, a focus on details, that leads inevitably and, with a minimum of fuss, to memorable insights into love, affection, the ineluctable passage of time, and humanity’s place in the universe. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is a delight from start to finish and shows Zarrop writing at the height of his very considerable powers.”<br /><b>David Cooke</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is very uncertain and very quirky.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">ISBN: 978-1-7398838-8-1<br />74 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>BROTHER</i></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNMLgIGKOJV78ve31Lnzqkj0vTGWai6_8gcr7DxrlG_ummTsxeNMRiu_3YAz1s5gU3GFyohM7irN5CNeuKzrbhS0H-RJ0WI-RKfzyDE5hUEeqMKYLP_Z_-NYv1n02vTQqYrVaT6s-oav1LQNOWBoQP0j-vGKzCkykvoBLJaSxzgXYH233suikWHkg80Vr/s2754/9781739883898.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2754" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNMLgIGKOJV78ve31Lnzqkj0vTGWai6_8gcr7DxrlG_ummTsxeNMRiu_3YAz1s5gU3GFyohM7irN5CNeuKzrbhS0H-RJ0WI-RKfzyDE5hUEeqMKYLP_Z_-NYv1n02vTQqYrVaT6s-oav1LQNOWBoQP0j-vGKzCkykvoBLJaSxzgXYH233suikWHkg80Vr/s320/9781739883898.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>“Sheila Lockhart has created something special with this pamphlet. <i>Brother</i> is a poignant study of remembrance but one that manages to be almost joyful in its close observation of this lost life and the still-living world that goes on without it. It is special writing – clear, brightly configured, riven by pain, and perfectly formed.”<br /><b>Niall Campbell</b><p></p><p>“These calm and clear-eyed poems are remarkable in their refusal to be afraid. Holding darkness and light in delicate balance, they move from suffering and loss into what comes afterwards and later, finding consolation in the dogged aliveness of the natural world and, no less importantly, in the patterns and shapes of language itself. Sheila Lockhart has written a bold and beautiful book.”<br /><b>Katharine Towers<br /><br /></b>The poems in <i>Brother</i> are a very heart-felt and very unflinching consideration of grief and healing after suicide.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-9-8<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <br />36 pages<br />R.R.P. £6.50</p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/brother.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-1603430425389715022023-09-11T00:00:00.001+01:002023-09-19T14:23:04.079+01:00Launching (m)othersongs<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-yYFnl6SWjt8AFcNaEA3zE3sz4tRhIE6a3T2QCQSfRIYAJ13dNOVBVng2nV1Cbj_oY7I8cdc2wJOvGooBL-GHl566ik6fG1m7ICreyNrxjvvlh6q5cQ7N7_UtCj9mRYr1j0CHSbADvwRm9fsNcb0rxRbLmqt0HkPb0bnnxwFdBD_qfb8vDL_d8_fgw/s3172/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3172" data-original-width="2196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-yYFnl6SWjt8AFcNaEA3zE3sz4tRhIE6a3T2QCQSfRIYAJ13dNOVBVng2nV1Cbj_oY7I8cdc2wJOvGooBL-GHl566ik6fG1m7ICreyNrxjvvlh6q5cQ7N7_UtCj9mRYr1j0CHSbADvwRm9fsNcb0rxRbLmqt0HkPb0bnnxwFdBD_qfb8vDL_d8_fgw/s320/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>(m)othersongs</i>, a chapbook/pamphlet of poems by Sarah Doyle.</div><div><br /></div> “<i>(m)othersongs</i> is a moving, visceral exploration of the othering nature of un-motherhood. Body-shame, medical misogyny and grief are exorcised in shape-shifting forms with veins of pain running through them, in which everything from cloud formations to sea gooseberries on a shoreline speak of the changing seasons of the human body. This is a world where ‘wooden babies’ and rag dolls are born in place of children, and the womb – a ‘special bedroom’ haunted by endometriosis, fibroids and myths of creation – is surrendered with the mantra – ‘it’s only a pocket, and one you’re not using’. Both heartbreaking and strangely transporting, these are powerful and necessary poems.” <br /><b>Polly Atkin</b><p></p><p> “<i>(m)othersongs </i>is one of those rare examples of a collection of poetry that is both moving in content and accomplished in form. Each poem is expertly crafted, with a skilled use of structured form alongside beautifully crafted free verse. This textured and vibrant collection does not hold back, it faces the pain of endometriosis and infertility and holds that pain up to the light as valid experience of womanhood. The poetry world is enriched by this collection, and I shall return to it.”<br /><b>Wendy Pratt</b></p><p><i>(m)othersongs</i> is very meteorological and very moonlit.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-6-7<br />32 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />RRP £6.50</p><p> A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p><div><span style="font-size: large;">BUY <i>(M)OTHERSONGS</i> NOW using the paypal options below. </span></div><div><br /></div>
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</div><div><br /></div><div><div><i><b>This has been the sunniest May since records began<span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></b></i></div><div><br /></div><div>said the weatherman and every day my skin</div><div>absorbed the air’s hot butter; every day</div><div>through May, a barometric melt and swelter</div><div>until I was slick with sunshine. My eyes</div><div>ripened from green to gold, and freckles</div><div>swarmed my arms like fire ants. Helium</div><div>trailed in my wake, a shimmer of heat-haze</div><div>to burn out the dazzled retinas, as mercury</div><div>rose from toes to thighs to breasts. I blazed</div><div>with the fizz and pop of hydrogen,</div><div>a meteorological Midas making a yellow </div><div>mess of everything I touched, spilling</div><div>from room to room like steam, hissing</div><div>and flexing on limbs of plasma. I was fat</div><div>with photons, my mouth a glary corona</div><div>flaring electricity wrought from a heaving</div><div>belly. Month long, I radiated, basking</div><div>in the glow of my own brilliance, alive</div><div>with convection and luminous to the core.</div><div>But May broke like an egg, the sun’s</div><div>ruined yolk puddling round my feet,</div><div>as I succumbed to clammy blue in the rains</div><div>and the hail and the thunder of June.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>First published in Finished Creatures </i></span></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-37222563411581698972023-08-11T00:00:00.003+01:002023-08-11T00:00:00.145+01:00Celebrating the summer & important news for customers!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhqt8zHxyV_1W7G3BxiIUx9aE4Le0Fm2Rus29w8aSGlVCeHUE9lCB2kRVGNqF04y8PqITDBYMoO02rsxRFALy1gU2tngguON1viymyucqgKuoPjmKUptNqgD6NvSqBJzrUUJbo4Y2Q2gQZCIgOd-nxpCeBDY0CE84OttMPxvzxbD3dZfd3i-3rxVWlg/s6000/IMG_3375.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhqt8zHxyV_1W7G3BxiIUx9aE4Le0Fm2Rus29w8aSGlVCeHUE9lCB2kRVGNqF04y8PqITDBYMoO02rsxRFALy1gU2tngguON1viymyucqgKuoPjmKUptNqgD6NvSqBJzrUUJbo4Y2Q2gQZCIgOd-nxpCeBDY0CE84OttMPxvzxbD3dZfd3i-3rxVWlg/s320/IMG_3375.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>This summer, V. Press will be out of office for a month for the first time in the press's ten-year history.</p><p>During this period over part of August and September, we will be temporarily removing most of our print titles from sale through Amazon.</p><p>Customers will still be able to place orders through the V. Press website, but the orders won't be sent out until we're back in office (the second week in September) so people may prefer to wait until then before ordering.</p><p>Our flash fiction eBooks (<i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-chemists-house.html" target="_blank">The Chemist's House</a></i>, <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-neverlands.html" target="_blank">The Neverlands</a></i>, <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/alice-in-wonderland-syndrome.html" target="_blank">Alice in Wonderland Syndrome</a></i> and <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/set-crow-to-catch-crow.html" target="_blank">Set a Crow to Catch a Crow</a></i>) will be unaffected by this longer holiday period and can be purchased as always through Amazon. <i><a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-vaginellas-v.html" target="_blank">The Vaginellas</a></i> poetry chapbook will similarly still be available through Amazon over this period. </p><p>V. Press titles that are currently available to pre-order will also be unaffected, as their publication dates are later on in the year and we will be in the office again in plenty of time to sort these.</p><p>Print titles will also go back on sale on Amazon once we're back in office after this short break.</p><p>We thank you for your understanding and wish all our writers, readers and supporters a lovely summer!</p><p><b style="font-size: large;">PS To get V. Press news like this direct to your inbox</b><span style="font-size: large;"> (or to know when we post news like this on the website), sign up for our newsletters. You can do this by going to the right-hand side-bar (just below the V. Press logo) on the website home page. Type your email address into the blank text box there, then click on the subscribe button.</span></p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-1116663058438858472023-07-31T00:00:00.041+01:002023-07-31T00:00:00.145+01:00The V. Press Prize for Poetry 2023<p>V. Press is very very delighted to announce that the winner of this year's V. Press Prize for Poetry is Ella-Louise Fisher! </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This year's V.
Press Prize for Poetry shortlist of four manuscripts chosen by the
University of Worcester was particularly strong and varied.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">V. Press
editor Sarah Leavesley enjoyed the range of inventive, innovative, humorous,
thought-provoking and moving poems in the shortlisted selections. In addition
to striking lines, images and individual poems, she was also impressed by the
care and crafting in getting these poems to work together as a whole, linked by
theme, form/presentation or a narrative thread.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Deciding
between these manuscripts was tough, but she eventually picked ‘Robins,
Feathers, Pearls’ by Ella-Louise Fisher as the winner of the V. Prize for
Poetry 2023 because of the completeness of its moving relatable narrative of
grief and healing. Powerful precise imagery, techniques like repetition and a
range of forms are used effectively across these poems to highlight different
aspects of loss and love, while also reinforcing each other and the overall
narrative.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sarah is looking forward to working with Ella-Louise on her pamphlet for publication by V. Press in 2024.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Last Year's V. Press Prize for Poetry</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1KCda5GsyQ1iWimvyektnmz94OP5H5xXQjgMKZ6fIQG0OUN3o1dOVuH6M80nMuV7SpqHgHO3DRidgirbtZhJJAHQPt6Ftecgwr6Mf43VhlEMGHmDhK1SG25UeYKiUJypN2m6wd_VVeu8C2RbTjQvZVbBcJlqvsdoAJsNoeVF9jUPY_0kA7RxSDunxA/s2780/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2780" data-original-width="1960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1KCda5GsyQ1iWimvyektnmz94OP5H5xXQjgMKZ6fIQG0OUN3o1dOVuH6M80nMuV7SpqHgHO3DRidgirbtZhJJAHQPt6Ftecgwr6Mf43VhlEMGHmDhK1SG25UeYKiUJypN2m6wd_VVeu8C2RbTjQvZVbBcJlqvsdoAJsNoeVF9jUPY_0kA7RxSDunxA/s320/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" width="226" /></a></p><p></p><div>V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022 winner D.D. Holland's pamphlet <i>Braised in Wine </i>was launched with a wonderful event at the University of Worcester in May.</div><div><br /></div><div>“<i>Braised in Wine</i> 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 <i>Braised in Wine</i> 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.” <b>Dr Jack McGowan</b> </div><p>“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.” <b>Dr David Swann</b></p><p>“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.” <b>Sarah Leavesley, V. Press prize judge</b></p><p><i>Braised in Wine</i> is very amusing and very genuine.</p><p><b>Winner of the V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022</b></p><div><div>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-5-0</div><div>34 pages, illustrated</div><div>R.R.P. £6.50</div><div><br /></div><div>More information, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">Braised in Wine</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Summer Reading</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cs1nJ5S80jKeLTLuMyHbOfydM-WdtNfTXaHD_op5nCKLI3mMRvJsnKtBqNbuvaj0GjZpRe1e0kboNmb_Kf2zNF60ZkOPLL6rqcqRPhudqA3dlVrYqCGCz_A24X4GnUEPZm__JQn6oZwPZjdIxFD0ONRrGcNAcbP3w73K3-1kNyak--KcosHeMo1VlQ3_/s2464/Dancing%20in%20Babylon%20Elaine%20Baker%20V.%20Press.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="1740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cs1nJ5S80jKeLTLuMyHbOfydM-WdtNfTXaHD_op5nCKLI3mMRvJsnKtBqNbuvaj0GjZpRe1e0kboNmb_Kf2zNF60ZkOPLL6rqcqRPhudqA3dlVrYqCGCz_A24X4GnUEPZm__JQn6oZwPZjdIxFD0ONRrGcNAcbP3w73K3-1kNyak--KcosHeMo1VlQ3_/s320/Dancing%20in%20Babylon%20Elaine%20Baker%20V.%20Press.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to have <i>Dancing in Babylon</i> by Elaine Baker as our summer pamphlet.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Situated in the city of the apocalypse, and arranged as a play, this is a gentle and haunting sequence of poems. Within an anxiety-infused landscape of constant peril, Baker’s skillful narrator offers a counterbalance to the darkness of uncertainty. What ultimately triumphs here is the light, joy and beauty of what it is to love and be loved. These graceful, musical and emotionally resonant poems beautifully unfold their story of hope.” <b>Vanessa Lampert</b></div><p>“These poems are startling in their emotional clarity. They capture the surreal disconnection of lockdown as well as celebrating what a joy it is to be together once more. They are filled with a quietly powerful sense of wonder that is both passionate and melancholy. From tango dancers to taxi cab drivers, they draw us into a world that is heart-breaking in its beauty.” <br /><b>Aoife Mannix </b></p><p><i>Dancing in Babylon</i> is very elegiac and very cathartic.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7394122-0-3<br />36 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span> <span style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span>
</span>R.R.P. £6.50</p><p>More information, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/dancing-in-babylon.html" target="_blank">Dancing in Babylon</a> </i>can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/dancing-in-babylon.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>PS To get V. Press news like this direct to your inbox</b> (or to know when we post news like this on the website), sign up for our newsletters. You can do this by going to the right-hand side-bar (just below the V. Press logo) on the website home page. Type your email address into the blank text box there, then click on the subscribe button.</span></p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-87828985973748154042023-07-17T00:00:00.002+01:002023-07-17T00:00:00.143+01:00Launching Dancing in Babylon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cs1nJ5S80jKeLTLuMyHbOfydM-WdtNfTXaHD_op5nCKLI3mMRvJsnKtBqNbuvaj0GjZpRe1e0kboNmb_Kf2zNF60ZkOPLL6rqcqRPhudqA3dlVrYqCGCz_A24X4GnUEPZm__JQn6oZwPZjdIxFD0ONRrGcNAcbP3w73K3-1kNyak--KcosHeMo1VlQ3_/s2464/Dancing%20in%20Babylon%20Elaine%20Baker%20V.%20Press.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2464" data-original-width="1740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cs1nJ5S80jKeLTLuMyHbOfydM-WdtNfTXaHD_op5nCKLI3mMRvJsnKtBqNbuvaj0GjZpRe1e0kboNmb_Kf2zNF60ZkOPLL6rqcqRPhudqA3dlVrYqCGCz_A24X4GnUEPZm__JQn6oZwPZjdIxFD0ONRrGcNAcbP3w73K3-1kNyak--KcosHeMo1VlQ3_/s320/Dancing%20in%20Babylon%20Elaine%20Baker%20V.%20Press.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>Dancing in Babylon</i> by Elaine Baker.</div><div><br /></div>“Situated in the city of the apocalypse, and arranged as a play, this is a gentle and haunting sequence of poems. Within an anxiety-infused landscape of constant peril, Baker’s skillful narrator offers a counterbalance to the darkness of uncertainty. What ultimately triumphs here is the light, joy and beauty of what it is to love and be loved. These graceful, musical and emotionally resonant poems beautifully unfold their story of hope.” <b>Vanessa Lampert</b><p>“These poems are startling in their emotional clarity. They capture the surreal disconnection of lockdown as well as celebrating what a joy it is to be together once more. They are filled with a quietly powerful sense of wonder that is both passionate and melancholy. From tango dancers to taxi cab drivers, they draw us into a world that is heart-breaking in its beauty.” <br /><b>Aoife Mannix </b></p><p><i>Dancing in Babylon</i> is very elegiac and very cathartic.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7394122-0-3</p><p>36 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p>R.R.P. £6.50</p><p>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BUY DANCING IN BABYLON NOW using the paypal options below.</span></p><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" onsubmit="return confirm('Please ensure you have selected the correct shipping option: UK only or Rest of World? (NB International customers may be required to pay customs duties upon delivery)');" target="_top">
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<p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>The cabbie (1)</b></p>
<p>He works nights, passing blue lights. Silence. Blue lights. But the streets are magic after dark.</p><p>He doesn’t need Satnav or stars. He knows Babylon’s backstreets like his daughters and sons, like their voices in the morning, their feet on the carpeted stairs.</p><p>While she cooks, nags, worries, gets them to bed, pours a drink, watches the news, he criss-crosses the city, office blocks to station forecourt to banks to city outskirts. Fare after fare, the night goes. He doesn’t miss conversation much. He’s learned to read his fares behind the glass like texts – it’s all in the eyes, above the mask. He observes the way they watch empty pavements, traffic lights, like they’re adverts.</p><p>He curses the gulls –</p><p><i>fucking birds</i>.</p><p>He takes this city, while it’s sleeping, while no one else is looking, slipping lane to lane like he’s a king, and in between, he sings, picturing her warm and safe in his bed, breathing.</p><p>He doesn’t know when it will end. He thanks God he is working.</p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-35128238376265560292023-06-02T00:00:00.003+01:002023-06-02T08:50:35.852+01:00The Saboteur Awards & Other News<p><span style="font-size: large;">V. Press is very very delighted that <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a></i> by Hannah Linden has been shortlisted for </span><span style="font-size: large;">THE SABOTEUR AWARD FOR BEST POETRY PAMPHLET 2023!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The final round of voting, to decide the winners in each category of the award, is open until Wednesday, 21 June, 2023 at 11.50pm. You can vote for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a></i> and your favourites in the other categories <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfQG2q_M9kw8ipdg4Pob9nnsl8ET4JcwFbFawR9kVlAamoBFg/viewform" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p><p><b style="font-size: x-large;">REVIEWS</b></p><p>V. Press is delighted to share two <i>Sphinx</i> One Point of Interest reviews, on <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> by Nicola Warwick and <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank">bed</a></i> by Georgia Gildea.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-a5lprajy_VSxeRlTAdtDoys7GE0aMod5TPQB-uo61e_vk6uBoEdEsGS0nx08cBuq_yEXCqI4mA-T6pIYfiSJ36Y4gXL4O5SlgwnOzeEb9Enx9YwYokgbvW3mSXsQLTZ3-pedgIJprVeN8lAY0ZtTBUVbCPV7s5krEHuytaAM7-Y1zp6Jkrmsdr01PQ/s2460/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2460" data-original-width="1728" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-a5lprajy_VSxeRlTAdtDoys7GE0aMod5TPQB-uo61e_vk6uBoEdEsGS0nx08cBuq_yEXCqI4mA-T6pIYfiSJ36Y4gXL4O5SlgwnOzeEb9Enx9YwYokgbvW3mSXsQLTZ3-pedgIJprVeN8lAY0ZtTBUVbCPV7s5krEHuytaAM7-Y1zp6Jkrmsdr01PQ/w141-h200/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" width="141" /></a></div>Considering the close observation in <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> by Nicola Warwick:<p></p><p>“Nicola Warwick has sharp powers of observation which, allied to her skilled use of imagery, make for richly evocative poems. However, she also goes beyond description, sometimes even into the surreal, using nature as a way into deeper feelings.</p><p>[…] I sense an underlying yearning to reconcile the human with the natural world in this mesmerising, closely-observed pamphlet.”</p><p><b>Sue Wallace-Shaddad</b>, OPOI, <i>Sphinx, </i>full review <a href="https://www.sphinxreview.co.uk/index.php/1495-nicola-warwick-the-human-portion" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p>More information, endorsements, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8d_Cp5Ewp8lv0_2NQjIfB_oUQuyGxUK3dik_yeCWl81WiaIc13TwsAdXa4UqoIn3JlGuKZ651He__DcCgbuANc2WPzdraVfk1HCBLbNEvjkY2n02e8CV3VQ6KlOjV5GKgO0812gF5EAhlZE75dQutEbJSymUz80cJD2apulC9xy0P2FEv1m3EkKurQ/s2543/Bed%20Georgia%20Gildea%20.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1781" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8d_Cp5Ewp8lv0_2NQjIfB_oUQuyGxUK3dik_yeCWl81WiaIc13TwsAdXa4UqoIn3JlGuKZ651He__DcCgbuANc2WPzdraVfk1HCBLbNEvjkY2n02e8CV3VQ6KlOjV5GKgO0812gF5EAhlZE75dQutEbJSymUz80cJD2apulC9xy0P2FEv1m3EkKurQ/w140-h200/Bed%20Georgia%20Gildea%20.png" width="140" /></a></div>Considering the use of the present tense in <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank"><i>bed</i> </a>by Georgia Gildea:<p></p><p>“Days no longer have names, nor do colours. They are undifferentiated. The more I look at what is in these poems the more I start to see what’s missing.</p><p>I don’t know where better is</p><p>or whether I want<br />to go there</p><p>Illness has no timescale, no certainties other than the immediate present and shrunken surroundings. This is set up from the opening lines […]”</p><p><b>D A Prince</b>, OPOI, <i>Sphinx</i>, full review <a href="https://www.sphinxreview.co.uk/index.php/1498-georgia-gildea-bed" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><div>More information, endorsements, a sample extract and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank">bed</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">INTERVIEWS</span></b></p><p>Georgia Gildea talks with her V. Press guest editor, Charlotte Gann, about silence, self, resistance and more in her recently released chapbook, <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank"><i>bed</i></a> (which addresses the experience of hospitalisation for anorexia), on <i>The Understory Conversation</i> <a href="https://theunderstoryconversation.com/emerging-from-silence/" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p>More theme listings for V. Press titles and links to articles where authors talk about their V. Press books can be found in <a href="http://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-reading-room.html" target="_blank">The Reading Room</a>.</p><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">RECENTLY RELEASED</span></b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1KCda5GsyQ1iWimvyektnmz94OP5H5xXQjgMKZ6fIQG0OUN3o1dOVuH6M80nMuV7SpqHgHO3DRidgirbtZhJJAHQPt6Ftecgwr6Mf43VhlEMGHmDhK1SG25UeYKiUJypN2m6wd_VVeu8C2RbTjQvZVbBcJlqvsdoAJsNoeVF9jUPY_0kA7RxSDunxA/s2780/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2780" data-original-width="1960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1KCda5GsyQ1iWimvyektnmz94OP5H5xXQjgMKZ6fIQG0OUN3o1dOVuH6M80nMuV7SpqHgHO3DRidgirbtZhJJAHQPt6Ftecgwr6Mf43VhlEMGHmDhK1SG25UeYKiUJypN2m6wd_VVeu8C2RbTjQvZVbBcJlqvsdoAJsNoeVF9jUPY_0kA7RxSDunxA/w141-h200/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" width="141" /></a></p><p></p><div>V. Press is very very delighted to share the publication of <i>Braised in Wine</i> by V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022 winner D.D. Holland.</div><div><br /></div><div>“<i>Braised in Wine</i> 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 <i>Braised in Wine</i> 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.” <b>Dr Jack McGowan</b> </div><p>“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.” <b>Dr David Swann</b></p><p>“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.” <b>Sarah Leavesley, V. Press prize judge</b></p><p><i>Braised in Wine</i> is very amusing and very genuine.</p><p><b>Winner of the V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022</b></p><div><div>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-5-0</div><div>34 pages, illustrated</div><div>R.R.P. £6.50</div><div><br /></div><div>More information, ordering and a sample poem from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/2023/04/launching-braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">Braised in Wine</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/2023/04/launching-braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div><div><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" onsubmit="return confirm('Please ensure you have selected the correct shipping option: UK only or Rest of World? (NB International customers may be required to pay customs duties upon delivery)');" target="_top"><table><tbody><tr><td><i><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table></form></div><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">LATER THIS YEAR</span></b></p><p>V. Press is delighted to have pre-ordering available already for a number of poetry titles out later this year.</p><p><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Turn Around When Possible</span></a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9LKuNuKo5l4GIVUd137PR8ovbdB3-kA7-ks07iwRDSSK6ModzD0TBuIqwH7GwHdE9Mn4rOikiugpfmUHey5AF_6xSC0YH40sb5xo0g_xRBN01MOh5cwRr-ZsZiHQnT36_Oske5WkumQbgibKP8Q3HlwTxOsPfx17LfVng9abCIkCUgzqihmMKB4n8Q/s3293/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3293" data-original-width="2157" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9LKuNuKo5l4GIVUd137PR8ovbdB3-kA7-ks07iwRDSSK6ModzD0TBuIqwH7GwHdE9Mn4rOikiugpfmUHey5AF_6xSC0YH40sb5xo0g_xRBN01MOh5cwRr-ZsZiHQnT36_Oske5WkumQbgibKP8Q3HlwTxOsPfx17LfVng9abCIkCUgzqihmMKB4n8Q/w131-h200/Turn%20Around%20When%20Possible%20Martin%20Zarrop%20front%20cover.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>“Combining a scientific eye with a poetic sensibility (and a sharp sense of humour), Martin Zarrop’s work is thought-provoking and wry. These poems take the long view and they never shy away from difficulty, each expertly using form to amplify content. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is an enlightening, enjoyable read.”<p></p><p><b>Helen Mort</b></p><p>“Whether he is looking back fondly on the seemingly mundane details of a working-class childhood or exploring the vastness of interstellar space, Martin Zarrop’s poems are distinguished by their metaphysical wit, humour, and sheer accessibility. There is a mathematical precision to every poem in this collection, a focus on details, that leads inevitably and, with a minimum of fuss, to memorable insights into love, affection, the ineluctable passage of time, and humanity’s place in the universe. <i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is a delight from start to finish and shows Zarrop writing at the height of his very considerable powers.”<br /><b>David Cooke</b></p><p><i>Turn Around When Possible</i> is very uncertain and very quirky.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-8-1<br />74 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p>More information, pre-ordering and a sample poem from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" target="_blank">Turn Around When Possible</a></i> can be enjoyed <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/turn-around-when-possible.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">Not Enough Rage</a></span></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/s3402/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3402" data-original-width="2220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUc6BUy4K6BHWYBZIh5xAt0FM_awfUBtii4PeOA_iLejuhl1D4LFY4esCs3n-9-wE0DwRYLdC8sXAlsrv-7DSXCxCSRoMLxbVYmMN27sRrtzDmkCLb5yZ518GvpXt9PgTUVCoTdY44Z78Zlpe9hBQ1BhLLA8Fx6A9MGwn9DubdpQ5OHBMSPsq5ItAA/w131-h200/Not%20Enough%20Rage%2062-page%20final%20to%20go%20to%20printer-cmyk%20front%20cover.jpg" width="131" /></a></p></div><p style="text-align: left;">“It’s rare for me to recognise, and feel kinship for, a lot of contemporary poetry. I recognise and feel kinship with this. <i>Not Enough Rage</i> is like a series of controlled explosions. Trembling houses. A burning voice. Experience dismantled and sewn back together with glowing needles and a mouth full of stars.”</p><p><b>Bobby Parker</b></p><p>“Like a Dylan Thomas of the age of mental illness, Gram Joel Davies leaps and flies through the world with dark exuberance. These are speakable poems, full of love for unlovable places and impossible people. In touch with but not tied to rap's rhymes and rhythms, this collection, for me, shifts the modern world into the painful focus of real poetry.” <br /><b>Peter Oswald</b></p><p><i>Not Enough Rage</i> is very heady and very gutsy.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-7-4<br />62 pages<br />R.R.P. £10.99</p><p>A sample poem pre-ordering and a sample poem from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">Not Enough Rage</a> </i>can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/not-enough-rage.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">(m)othersongs</span></a></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-yYFnl6SWjt8AFcNaEA3zE3sz4tRhIE6a3T2QCQSfRIYAJ13dNOVBVng2nV1Cbj_oY7I8cdc2wJOvGooBL-GHl566ik6fG1m7ICreyNrxjvvlh6q5cQ7N7_UtCj9mRYr1j0CHSbADvwRm9fsNcb0rxRbLmqt0HkPb0bnnxwFdBD_qfb8vDL_d8_fgw/s3172/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3172" data-original-width="2196" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-yYFnl6SWjt8AFcNaEA3zE3sz4tRhIE6a3T2QCQSfRIYAJ13dNOVBVng2nV1Cbj_oY7I8cdc2wJOvGooBL-GHl566ik6fG1m7ICreyNrxjvvlh6q5cQ7N7_UtCj9mRYr1j0CHSbADvwRm9fsNcb0rxRbLmqt0HkPb0bnnxwFdBD_qfb8vDL_d8_fgw/w139-h200/978-1-7398838-6-7.jpg" width="139" /></a></div><div>“<i>(m)othersongs</i> is a moving, visceral exploration of the othering nature of un-motherhood. Body-shame, medical misogyny and grief are exorcised in shape-shifting forms with veins of pain running through them, in which everything from cloud formations to sea gooseberries on a shoreline speak of the changing seasons of the human body. This is a world where ‘wooden babies’ and rag dolls are born in place of children, and the womb – a ‘special bedroom’ haunted by endometriosis, fibroids and myths of creation – is surrendered with the mantra – ‘it’s only a pocket, and one you’re not using’. Both heartbreaking and strangely transporting, these are powerful and necessary poems.”</div><p><b>Polly Atkin</b></p><p></p><p> “<i>(m)othersongs </i>is one of those rare examples of a collection of poetry that is both moving in content and accomplished in form. Each poem is expertly crafted, with a skilled use of structured form alongside beautifully crafted free verse. This textured and vibrant collection does not hold back, it faces the pain of endometriosis and infertility and holds that pain up to the light as valid experience of womanhood. The poetry world is enriched by this collection, and I shall return to it.”<br /><b>Wendy Pratt</b></p><p><i>(m)othersongs</i> is very meteorological and very moonlit.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-6-7<br />32 pages<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />RRP £6.50</p><p>More information, pre-ordering and a sample poem from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">(m)othersongs</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/mothersongs.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" onsubmit="return confirm('Please ensure you have selected the correct shipping option: UK only or Rest of World? (NB International customers may be required to pay customs duties upon delivery)');" target="_top"><br /></form></div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-56083903545752280422023-04-28T00:00:00.001+01:002023-04-28T00:00:00.172+01:00Launching Braised in Wine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1KCda5GsyQ1iWimvyektnmz94OP5H5xXQjgMKZ6fIQG0OUN3o1dOVuH6M80nMuV7SpqHgHO3DRidgirbtZhJJAHQPt6Ftecgwr6Mf43VhlEMGHmDhK1SG25UeYKiUJypN2m6wd_VVeu8C2RbTjQvZVbBcJlqvsdoAJsNoeVF9jUPY_0kA7RxSDunxA/s2780/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2780" data-original-width="1960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1KCda5GsyQ1iWimvyektnmz94OP5H5xXQjgMKZ6fIQG0OUN3o1dOVuH6M80nMuV7SpqHgHO3DRidgirbtZhJJAHQPt6Ftecgwr6Mf43VhlEMGHmDhK1SG25UeYKiUJypN2m6wd_VVeu8C2RbTjQvZVbBcJlqvsdoAJsNoeVF9jUPY_0kA7RxSDunxA/s320/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" width="226" /></a><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">V. Press is very very delighted to share the publication of <i>Braised in Wine</i> by V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022 winner D.D. Holland.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">“<i>Braised in Wine</i> 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 <i>Braised in Wine</i> 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.” <b>Dr Jack McGowan</b> </div>
<p>“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.” <b>Dr David Swann</b></p>
<p>“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.” <b>Sarah Leavesley, V. Press prize judge</b></p>
<p><i>Braised in Wine</i> is very amusing and very genuine.</p><p><b>Winner of the V. Press Prize for Poetry 2022</b></p><div><div>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-5-0</div><div>34 pages, illustrated</div><div>R.R.P. £6.50</div><div><br /></div>
<div>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</div></div>
<div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">BUY <i>BRAISED IN WINE</i> NOW using the paypal options below.</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" onsubmit="return confirm('Please ensure you have selected the correct shipping option: UK only or Rest of World? (NB International customers may be required to pay customs duties upon delivery)');" target="_top">
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<div><br /></div><div><div><b>Life Advice</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Lick the custard jug.</div><div>Take eight canapes the first time around.</div><div>Double, triple and quadruple dip your crackers;</div><div>turn out the crisp packet and suck off the salt.</div><div>Dip your spoon directly into the jar,</div><div>eat the grapes from the cheese board</div><div>and chew on the garnish.</div><div>Slurp your soup,</div><div>take seven sugars in your tea</div><div>and drink your coke full-fat.</div><div>Gnaw on chicken bones, then</div><div>suck your fingers clean.</div><div>Always ensure you are first in line</div><div>for birthday cake.</div><div>Belch appreciatively,</div><div>use your sleeve as a napkin,</div><div>dig your elbows into the table,</div><div>seize the wrong cutlery</div><div>in the wrong hands and</div><div>refuse to leave without seconds.</div><div>Force meteor showers,</div><div>cure existence,</div><div>evade the certainty of death.</div><div>Lick the custard jug.</div></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-15740473471862986902023-03-17T00:00:00.009+00:002023-07-13T13:51:33.643+01:00Launching bed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmikI5Zp0Y900C22wUkpVEgjYd91s3CrYhOx5ZkfkFm0FFCYTptGEn25TpxPco1MVCuCERH4WdMPAwBZYts5zNN0jSmVOcqsoaYj_ZuD-jKxsvTyqq2y46vp-tPwi4av02UYKG-VkWHVmMWBkWU4F7G6G4oHWlncdj838l876ppJe-jvdSHiocPcJfQ/s2543/Bed%20Georgia%20Gildea%20.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1781" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmikI5Zp0Y900C22wUkpVEgjYd91s3CrYhOx5ZkfkFm0FFCYTptGEn25TpxPco1MVCuCERH4WdMPAwBZYts5zNN0jSmVOcqsoaYj_ZuD-jKxsvTyqq2y46vp-tPwi4av02UYKG-VkWHVmMWBkWU4F7G6G4oHWlncdj838l876ppJe-jvdSHiocPcJfQ/s320/Bed%20Georgia%20Gildea%20.png" width="224" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">V. Press is very very excited to announce the publication of <i>bed</i> by Georgia Gildea, a poetry chapbook guest edited for V. Press by Charlotte Gann.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">“<i>bed</i> takes us on a heart-wrenching journey through hospital admission and discharge, opening doors inward and outward as it explores the divides of self and space and asks: ‘where do <i>I</i> belong’? This astounding collection locates the ‘I’ in innovative form as much as in content: the ‘empty / stem’ of the ‘I’ is evoked in poems that run narrow – yet stand tall – on the page, stanzas re-assemble into ‘I’ shapes and, achingly, the ‘I’ is an ideogram for ‘a goodbye / hug’. Amid disappearances, erasures and elisions, bed is a collection that recovers the ‘I’ from an overwhelming ‘landscape of white static / white and muted’. These pages crackle with inventiveness; here is an electrifying new voice.” <b>Sarah Barnsley</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><br /></div><div>“I love<i> bed</i> most for its clarity and depth. Its language, imagery, use of form, and framing, are all wonderfully delicate. From its diminutive, lower-case title on, <i>bed</i> invites its readers straight inside to experience ‘a life pared down to a spoon’. These poems are like tiny islands – boats – beds – drifting and bumping on their sea – ward – of white space and grief. It’s stunningly generous, as these seemingly small pieces offer up huge insights, both compassionate and enlightening. They draw a self struggling to navigate a bruising landscape. This is work that is both refreshingly direct and beautifully crafted.” <b>V. Press Guest Editor Charlotte Gann</b></div><div><br /></div>
<div><i>bed</i> is very raw and very real. </div>
<div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">ISBN: 978-1-7398838-4-3</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><div>36 pages</div>
<div>R.R.P. £6.50</div>
<div>Guest edited by Charlotte Gann</div></div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A sample extract from <i>bed</i> can be enjoyed below.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><b>A sample extract from <i>bed</i>:</b></p><p>I am walking into snow</p><p>a landscape of white static</p><p>white and muted</p><p>indeterminate</p><p>each forward step </p><p>undoes<br />a part<br />of the child <br />I never completed</p><p>making me scream <br />that I need to turn back<br />and retrieve her</p><p> (grieve her) </p><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-56857475985991007902023-03-01T00:00:00.005+00:002023-03-03T08:58:24.259+00:00Launching The Human Portion<p> V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>The Human Portion</i> by Nicola Warwick.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQeZ0PE8qjZAe7QpOvYPl4Vq9xBJkCSrNt2SmMWDKWNUF4njZU4QAooiOwBwNseJej1HZDbkV9xbAKnwLBzDmOqM-2GRpLIePxGrUw4n_e4AcDZZhLRWYgEwtTZfpBDVugA7EIt4E6gbaCW-VcY1shb5khiNc9YdtgHY17645P4S5HFghFDq3aUiWCA/s2460/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2460" data-original-width="1728" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQeZ0PE8qjZAe7QpOvYPl4Vq9xBJkCSrNt2SmMWDKWNUF4njZU4QAooiOwBwNseJej1HZDbkV9xbAKnwLBzDmOqM-2GRpLIePxGrUw4n_e4AcDZZhLRWYgEwtTZfpBDVugA7EIt4E6gbaCW-VcY1shb5khiNc9YdtgHY17645P4S5HFghFDq3aUiWCA/s320/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" width="225" /></a></div><p>“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.” <b>Moniza Alvi</b></p><p>“‘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’.” <b>Heidi Williamson</b></p><p><i>The Human Portion</i> is very liminal and very grounded.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-2-9 </p><p>36 pages <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> </p><p>R.R.P. £6.50</p><div>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</div><p><span style="font-size: large;">BUY <i>THE HUMAN PORTION</i> NOW using the paypal options below.</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></p>
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<div style="text-align: left;"><br /><b>The Chitterings</b><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Night by night, I listen<br />for the soft scrape of their claws<br />as they slip out from under the eaves.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You doze beside me, unaware <br />of the little interlopers who stir only <br />as we are readying ourselves for sleep.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I wait for the dusky light to fade, <br />for their ragged shapes to take to the air, <br />for them to stutter like ticker-tape into the dark.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My ears are tuned like a child’s for their speech,<br />their squeals and calls, a quiet chit-chittering<br />as they gather for the off.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You say it’s all in my head, these creatures<br />that will not silence, suggest I still them <br />with something like mindfulness.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On those nights when sleep won’t come, <br />I watch from the window for their exodus,<br />count them out, count them all back in.<br /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-17192980746367509742023-02-17T00:00:00.014+00:002023-02-17T00:00:00.214+00:00Spring-ing into 2023!<p>It's been a busy and exciting start to 2023 at V. Press, with review news and lots of forthcoming titles now ready for pre-order and scheduled in for later in the year.</p><p>We hope all our readers, writers and supporters have had a gentle but bright start to the year, with lots to look forward to over the next 12 months.</p><p>Here, there's so much to share that it's working out where to start...</p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">NEW REVIEWS</span></b></p><p></p><div><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Beautiful Open Sky</span></a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgku7WJCVpi5OgMo5hVqKqNcpHsJ3Z2kqTjEbTA5f9N3qfDRb9HMY8myPcldOOCRicCmZRNBPKIDtqmj4uaxaDxlt0nIJNlKCdKIYMNblIvSjZYRN1EAEDoVn46e71Tb6mKr_RoaoHqbM_zCwIT95Yq0xzMIw9l4Q2hxMkIIH3W0tWu1scvSbpZTp_lnA/s849/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="598" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgku7WJCVpi5OgMo5hVqKqNcpHsJ3Z2kqTjEbTA5f9N3qfDRb9HMY8myPcldOOCRicCmZRNBPKIDtqmj4uaxaDxlt0nIJNlKCdKIYMNblIvSjZYRN1EAEDoVn46e71Tb6mKr_RoaoHqbM_zCwIT95Yq0xzMIw9l4Q2hxMkIIH3W0tWu1scvSbpZTp_lnA/w141-h200/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>"In <i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> Hannah Linden shows us the nature of a childhood presided over by a mother who is unfit, and unable to nurture her children. I was astonished how quickly I became immersed in this world. [...]The poems work like a prism splitting the experience of this childhood into a spectrum of graphic images. They draw on fantastic myths and fairy tales as well as details of a working-class Lancastrian background. The language is always simple, penetrating, gets straight to the point, but there is a shift, subtle at first, a sense of the narrator getting a perspective on the situation and preparing to move on [...]"</div><div><b>Anne Bailey</b>, OPOI, <i>Sphinx</i>, full review <a href="https://www.sphinxreview.co.uk/index.php/1472-hannah-linden-the-beautiful-open-sky" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> is a poetry collection that takes leaps and bounds through an emotive and somber narrative that enrobes the reader in a sense of suffering far beyond what may ever be considered normal. What a powerful, sorrowful read of suffering crafted most exquisitely."</div><div><b>A.R. Arthur</b>, <i>Full House Literary</i>, full review <a href="https://www.fullhouseliterary.com/reviews/thebeautifulopensky" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div> </div><div>More information, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a> </i>can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Powerless Rangers</span></a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6e9g3NfM2aF-rVM9n6NuzvVt3aKKBg9JUaYk0q4LBR4sc15tFM0pBJMD5_dE8Ud5AT_fuJsWjrsmd_lTNVPDkDNYBhp5nkQoJn8-uqj4dcuUYuKb_mXNN7702GTRJCPxlAgd2ywo91jPhkpTGCxxjFxxCGzO6VShHlcGx-U4d8hf9jo-ZGpvmFvq-tg/s2481/Powerless%20Rangers%20Jack%20McGowan.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2481" data-original-width="1753" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6e9g3NfM2aF-rVM9n6NuzvVt3aKKBg9JUaYk0q4LBR4sc15tFM0pBJMD5_dE8Ud5AT_fuJsWjrsmd_lTNVPDkDNYBhp5nkQoJn8-uqj4dcuUYuKb_mXNN7702GTRJCPxlAgd2ywo91jPhkpTGCxxjFxxCGzO6VShHlcGx-U4d8hf9jo-ZGpvmFvq-tg/w141-h200/Powerless%20Rangers%20Jack%20McGowan.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br />A One Point of Interest review picks up on the nineties nostalgia and catchphrases in <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" target="_blank">Powerless Rangers</a></i> by Jack McGowan. </div><div><br /></div><div>"And given that ‘catchphrases’ have always been around, there’s some mileage in the idea that this is because people like Jack McGowan have an ear for them, and are noticeably good at generating their own. [...]McGowan really does catch the ear with his phrases: ‘small as a thumbnail, big as a future’."</div><div><b>E. T. Michie</b>, OPOI, <i>Sphinx</i>, full review <a href="https://www.sphinxreview.co.uk/index.php/1485-jack-mcgowan-powerless-rangers" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>More information, a sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" target="_blank">Powerless Rangers</a> </i>can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Creature Without Building</span></a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUBwo5S2Txw8Mr1QjP0iOfwEkxN5O8c2n_CfVkF5JhW07R-CseGV2VUjFYNw0qTfXgDNmg1QtHZMjOJtP2XkVCh881IYi5OlJmwJn4siaagBL5kdVKbnMIrYETQI-gI2zjVPpD_FFFo6iit6-xs9ebyjsmeCC4IUBfLbnnfRN8x6jETgxFOUTuL2I5Q/s2480/9781838048891.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2480" data-original-width="1732" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUBwo5S2Txw8Mr1QjP0iOfwEkxN5O8c2n_CfVkF5JhW07R-CseGV2VUjFYNw0qTfXgDNmg1QtHZMjOJtP2XkVCh881IYi5OlJmwJn4siaagBL5kdVKbnMIrYETQI-gI2zjVPpD_FFFo6iit6-xs9ebyjsmeCC4IUBfLbnnfRN8x6jETgxFOUTuL2I5Q/w139-h200/9781838048891.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>A One Point of Interest review explores the gender assumptions, dual meanings, ambiguities and more highlighted by the use of strikethrough in <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank">Creature Without Building</a> </i>by Ray Vincent-Mills.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I’ve read individual poems that make use of the strikethrough before, but never a collection that uses it so consistently to explore hesitation, power and permission around language."</div><div><b>Ramona Herdman</b>, OPOI, <i>Sphinx</i>, full review <a href="https://www.sphinxreview.co.uk/index.php/1455-ray-vincent-mills-creature-without-building" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>More information, a sample poem and ordering for<i> </i><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank">Creature Without Building</a> </i>can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;">OUT SOON</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>V. Press is delighted to have two March-release poetry chapbooks now available to pre-order, as well as one out in April.</div><div><br /></div><div><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></b></span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQeZ0PE8qjZAe7QpOvYPl4Vq9xBJkCSrNt2SmMWDKWNUF4njZU4QAooiOwBwNseJej1HZDbkV9xbAKnwLBzDmOqM-2GRpLIePxGrUw4n_e4AcDZZhLRWYgEwtTZfpBDVugA7EIt4E6gbaCW-VcY1shb5khiNc9YdtgHY17645P4S5HFghFDq3aUiWCA/s2460/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2460" data-original-width="1728" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQeZ0PE8qjZAe7QpOvYPl4Vq9xBJkCSrNt2SmMWDKWNUF4njZU4QAooiOwBwNseJej1HZDbkV9xbAKnwLBzDmOqM-2GRpLIePxGrUw4n_e4AcDZZhLRWYgEwtTZfpBDVugA7EIt4E6gbaCW-VcY1shb5khiNc9YdtgHY17645P4S5HFghFDq3aUiWCA/w141-h200/Nicola%20Warwick%20The%20Human%20Portion%20cover.png" width="141" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“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.” <b>Moniza Alvi</b></div><p style="text-align: justify;">“‘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’.” <b>Heidi Williamson</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>The Human Portion</i> is very liminal and very grounded.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">A sample poem, endorsements, more information and pre-ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">The Human Portion</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-human-portion.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank">bed</a></span></b></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmikI5Zp0Y900C22wUkpVEgjYd91s3CrYhOx5ZkfkFm0FFCYTptGEn25TpxPco1MVCuCERH4WdMPAwBZYts5zNN0jSmVOcqsoaYj_ZuD-jKxsvTyqq2y46vp-tPwi4av02UYKG-VkWHVmMWBkWU4F7G6G4oHWlncdj838l876ppJe-jvdSHiocPcJfQ/s2543/Bed%20Georgia%20Gildea%20.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1781" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmikI5Zp0Y900C22wUkpVEgjYd91s3CrYhOx5ZkfkFm0FFCYTptGEn25TpxPco1MVCuCERH4WdMPAwBZYts5zNN0jSmVOcqsoaYj_ZuD-jKxsvTyqq2y46vp-tPwi4av02UYKG-VkWHVmMWBkWU4F7G6G4oHWlncdj838l876ppJe-jvdSHiocPcJfQ/w140-h200/Bed%20Georgia%20Gildea%20.png" width="140" /></a></div><div>“<i>bed</i> takes us on a heart-wrenching journey through hospital admission and discharge, opening doors inward and outward as it explores the divides of self and space and asks: ‘where do <i>I</i> belong’? This astounding collection locates the ‘I’ in innovative form as much as in content: the ‘empty / stem’ of the ‘I’ is evoked in poems that run narrow – yet stand tall – on the page, stanzas re-assemble into ‘I’ shapes and, achingly, the ‘I’ is an ideogram for ‘a goodbye / hug’. Amid disappearances, erasures and elisions, bed is a collection that recovers the ‘I’ from an overwhelming ‘landscape of white static / white and muted’. These pages crackle with inventiveness; here is an electrifying new voice.” <b>Sarah Barnsley</b></div><div><div><br /></div><div>“I love<i> bed</i> most for its clarity and depth. Its language, imagery, use of form, and framing, are all wonderfully delicate. From its diminutive, lower-case title on, <i>bed</i> invites its readers straight inside to experience ‘a life pared down to a spoon’. These poems are like tiny islands – boats – beds – drifting and bumping on their sea – ward – of white space and grief. It’s stunningly generous, as these seemingly small pieces offer up huge insights, both compassionate and enlightening. They draw a self struggling to navigate a bruising landscape. This is work that is both refreshingly direct and beautifully crafted.” <b>V. Press Guest Editor Charlotte Gann</b></div><div><br /></div><div><i>bed</i> is very raw and very real. </div><div><br /></div></div><div>A sample extract, endorsements, more information and pre-ordering for <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank"><i>bed</i> </a>, which was guest-edited by Charlotte Gann, can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/bed.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">Braised in Wine</a></span></b></i></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiN_eVigcfm4iQOa_Eo2eRqmlTAdD_d4_sm0LsxOUCSEsIR70J5xofKpFEhNuYAJYemDKwXxMKOyD-5Aa2b3Ju18sqSZQ6aXYNp3V6kg241VlTRG_akdPyNn3DNNaUcKIbA5jvOL4W63QxwsRrPxnvAmUUzjXVhkOJ6LYPxpe6fa9fJB_t7ZhCkSqMAg/s2780/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2780" data-original-width="1960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiN_eVigcfm4iQOa_Eo2eRqmlTAdD_d4_sm0LsxOUCSEsIR70J5xofKpFEhNuYAJYemDKwXxMKOyD-5Aa2b3Ju18sqSZQ6aXYNp3V6kg241VlTRG_akdPyNn3DNNaUcKIbA5jvOL4W63QxwsRrPxnvAmUUzjXVhkOJ6LYPxpe6fa9fJB_t7ZhCkSqMAg/w141-h200/Braised%20in%20Wine%20final%20cover%20with%20endorsments-cmyk-1-0.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>Although the poems may appear light-hearted on the surface, D.D. Holland's food-infused <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">Braised in Wine</a></i> is cut with a sharp knife.</div><div><br /></div><div>This illustrated pamphlet from the winner of last year's V. Press Prize for Poetry, run with the University of Worcester, is out at the end of April.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>“<i>Braised in Wine</i> 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 <i>Braised in Wine</i> 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.” <b>Dr Jack McGowan</b> </div><p>“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.” <b>Dr David Swann</b></p><p>“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.” <b>Sarah Leavesley, V. Press prize judge</b></p><p><i>Braised in Wine</i> is very amusing and very genuine.</p><p>A sample poem, endorsements, more information and pre-ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">Braised in Wine</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/braised-in-wine.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-63740160002001212042022-12-18T00:00:00.002+00:002022-12-18T00:00:00.273+00:00Seasonal greetings and special offer reminder!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtLSCHyafiP8XzcUJ3naj-zcHVaZAOJ6BBcCfkWXQqTMLQGw0LR3AhQ033H6eRdY6YZglWiwV2x1-zg-LXTOP4_wcld_JWh9IB5IrTeCjnixYESJnPop1NjuDfuuar8xAspp9ZR1d8W3-Io6aKKDo0hkGdd4_Hllu16O6n5bRnkj475SWSc6YTlEPYw/s6750/Seasonal%20Greetings%202022%20v%20press%20v4%20light%20on.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4500" data-original-width="6750" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtLSCHyafiP8XzcUJ3naj-zcHVaZAOJ6BBcCfkWXQqTMLQGw0LR3AhQ033H6eRdY6YZglWiwV2x1-zg-LXTOP4_wcld_JWh9IB5IrTeCjnixYESJnPop1NjuDfuuar8xAspp9ZR1d8W3-Io6aKKDo0hkGdd4_Hllu16O6n5bRnkj475SWSc6YTlEPYw/w400-h266/Seasonal%20Greetings%202022%20v%20press%20v4%20light%20on.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>V. Press would like to wish all our readers, writers and supporters a joyous festive period and very very Happy New Year!</p><p>This year, to celebrate the season, V. Press has a special offer that runs the whole of December 2022 for orders for delivery in the UK. With every title purchased over this period for delivery in the UK, we will send a free pamphlet/chapbook/book.*</p><p>Happy reading, relaxing, rejoicing!</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">* This offer runs from 1 December 2022 to midnight on 31 December 2022, UK-time and UK-delivery only.</span></p><p><br /></p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-7598803223856610372022-12-09T00:00:00.003+00:002023-04-20T16:32:39.293+01:00Launching Powerless Rangers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEymp-a_LdqbLggfbYWWwEMd-052D3JylVz5Ll04wlUOQ7fgnPMly_Jt386LFKEpxEuZNmKdSaGnX1aqJ9OXs7o7ORZBXjB40Dw0czmQ-EB0EmExQWAcc12NT_nmMj0aFCqn9tQT99d6KMXdruqe9-U1Aw1wj8kCCcQuUMDkdH-n35xuFTeH2GRUPVzA/s2481/9781739883836.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2481" data-original-width="1753" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEymp-a_LdqbLggfbYWWwEMd-052D3JylVz5Ll04wlUOQ7fgnPMly_Jt386LFKEpxEuZNmKdSaGnX1aqJ9OXs7o7ORZBXjB40Dw0czmQ-EB0EmExQWAcc12NT_nmMj0aFCqn9tQT99d6KMXdruqe9-U1Aw1wj8kCCcQuUMDkdH-n35xuFTeH2GRUPVzA/s320/9781739883836.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>Powerless Rangers</i> by Jack McGowan.</div><p></p>“There is such an open-hearted charm, an immediacy and pleasure of recognition to these poems that it takes a moment to realise how they’re working on you. The forensic attention to nostalgia, popular culture as a natural and built environment; what surrounded us and moulded us and exerts invisible influence over us to this day. McGowan is a master of engaging humour and subtle melancholy. I dislike the word ‘relatable’, but I expect that’s the easiest term people will reach for, even as the poems themselves unpick our complex relations to our world.” <br /><b>Luke Kennard</b><p></p><p>“The poems in <i>Powerless Rangers</i> enchant through their spoken power. They are clear-eyed about what makes us who we are and show true strength through their openness, compassion, and self-knowledge. The humour, language, and energy will win over readers and audiences alike.” <br /><b>David Morley </b></p><p>“McGowan’s poems are loud, with their energetic wit and playful meanderings, but they disguise a romantic, nostalgic centre and when it surfaces the audience or reader are encouraged to switch from one emotion to another in a second – which is a delight.” <br /><b>Ruth Stacey</b></p><p><i>Powerless Rangers</i> is very nostalgic, and very nineties. </p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-3-6 <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p>34 pages</p><p>R.R.P. £6.50</p><p>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p>
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<p><b>We watched the box set of <i>Friends</i> until we weren’t</b></p><div style="text-align: left;">Our love abandoned us before we did.<br />Hot coals anticipate cold glimmers <br />like once fond notes sketched into <br />the sweat on shared mirrors.<br />But boardgames became box sets, <br />watching the things that stitched us scatter.<br />Like that summer we chased<br />rainbows in your old Toyota,<br />trying to find an end. Either. <br />It didn’t matter.</div><div><br /></div><br /><p></p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-57256595828514739062022-12-01T00:00:00.003+00:002022-12-01T09:11:20.797+00:00Seasonal greetings and a special offer<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtLSCHyafiP8XzcUJ3naj-zcHVaZAOJ6BBcCfkWXQqTMLQGw0LR3AhQ033H6eRdY6YZglWiwV2x1-zg-LXTOP4_wcld_JWh9IB5IrTeCjnixYESJnPop1NjuDfuuar8xAspp9ZR1d8W3-Io6aKKDo0hkGdd4_Hllu16O6n5bRnkj475SWSc6YTlEPYw/s6750/Seasonal%20Greetings%202022%20v%20press%20v4%20light%20on.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4500" data-original-width="6750" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtLSCHyafiP8XzcUJ3naj-zcHVaZAOJ6BBcCfkWXQqTMLQGw0LR3AhQ033H6eRdY6YZglWiwV2x1-zg-LXTOP4_wcld_JWh9IB5IrTeCjnixYESJnPop1NjuDfuuar8xAspp9ZR1d8W3-Io6aKKDo0hkGdd4_Hllu16O6n5bRnkj475SWSc6YTlEPYw/w400-h266/Seasonal%20Greetings%202022%20v%20press%20v4%20light%20on.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>V. Press would like to wish all our readers, writers and supporters a joyous festive period and very very Happy New Year!</p><p>This year, to celebrate the season, V. Press has a special offer that runs the whole of December 2022 for orders for delivery in the UK. With every title purchased over this period for delivery in the UK, we will send a free pamphlet/chapbook/book.*</p><p>Happy reading, relaxing, rejoicing!</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">* This offer runs from 1 December 2022 to midnight on 31 December 2022, UK-time and UK-delivery only.</span></p><p><br /></p>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-469949350763952602022-10-28T00:00:00.001+01:002022-10-28T00:00:00.214+01:00The V. Press Prize for Poetry and gearing up towards Christmas<div><h4><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">2022 V. Press Prize for Poetry</span></b></h4><div><br /></div><div>V. Press is very very excited to share that the winner of the 2022 V. Press Prize for Poetry is Trudi Holland, with Amber Horne as a runner-up.</div><br /><div>A shortlist of eight anonymous manuscripts was sent over for this year’s prize by the University of Worcester’s creative writing team.</div><br /><div>Editor Sarah Leavesley said: “This year’s shortlist was exceptionally strong, demonstrating a strong sense of structuring and theming of the manuscripts as a whole, encompassing a wide range of forms, including experimental techniques, as well as striking imagery and lines within the individual poems.</div><br />“Picking a winner from these wasn’t easy, but I eventually went with ‘Braised in wine’ by Trudi Holland. An evocative use of food throughout this manuscript both whets the reader’s appetite and explores how what we eat feeds into (nearly) every other aspect of life, including body image, self-worth and relationships with others. This is also coupled with compelling use of the second person and a mastery of striking last lines.</div><div><br /></div><div>“My runner-up is ‘Gates’s Monster’ by Amber Horne for its original slants and relevant contemporary feel combined with an impressive range of form and experimental techniques, as well as great use of sequences threaded across the manuscript.”</div><div><br /></div><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">REVIEWS</span></b></p><p><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Beautiful Open Sky</span></a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXJAlO_PEriYV33K8t5nsTIFk3Dv_UY71KrwNjohDbnRUfF52Wl3iIKLfM721FRmUdRwnsz-Vrjq2RUrVDNkrFvKOwARwLoJjTAvuGaD_L10Z4-MiOywiB08Ch7nS2fVdf7KCSzzxH8MLiqR1BGikIDLnLJf-QKAabMh6TwxXV3HAngHBzSme-goYpQ/s849/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="598" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXJAlO_PEriYV33K8t5nsTIFk3Dv_UY71KrwNjohDbnRUfF52Wl3iIKLfM721FRmUdRwnsz-Vrjq2RUrVDNkrFvKOwARwLoJjTAvuGaD_L10Z4-MiOywiB08Ch7nS2fVdf7KCSzzxH8MLiqR1BGikIDLnLJf-QKAabMh6TwxXV3HAngHBzSme-goYpQ/w141-h200/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>Reviewing Hannah Linden's "impressive debut chapbook", <i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i>, for <i>Litter Magazine</i>, Steve Spence writes: "Her mix of graphic imagery – ‘the sunk pits’ for example – within an exploration of thought and feeling has a genuine link to what I’m going to call confessional poetry, something which is increasingly difficult to pull-off post Lowell and Plath, especially given the internet overload of such material, but it works here very effectively. It’s that combination I think of thought and feeling which does the trick and the careful use of language[...]"<p></p><p>The full review can be found on <i>Litter Magazine</i> <a href="https://www.littermagazine.com/2022/10/review-beautiful-open-sky-by-hannah.html?fbclid=IwAR3KUvDxr_wqBoSf4R9-psP1OckAWgzh3cly35j08iKHsII5MSXm2-C5QVs" target="_blank">here</a>. A sample poem, audio recording and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a> </i>are available <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FYnwJIRhG7qVcrQoQGxkZkxrdxl25Dt2omAaq9OceXKwxVYQdwhzSV_Fi1UHlSMWcaV-Bw1l45wSdqUxG_k-mEKO7VZldUOdEbujRW7HB2II4VzwHlVD1bZTevb1FYJjwtiyKsvF2iyHaJBbFK4ji_LVU7M2tczh8MEOwsIqvLkrP6XGvi8ETV1cWw/s1542/9781838048884.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FYnwJIRhG7qVcrQoQGxkZkxrdxl25Dt2omAaq9OceXKwxVYQdwhzSV_Fi1UHlSMWcaV-Bw1l45wSdqUxG_k-mEKO7VZldUOdEbujRW7HB2II4VzwHlVD1bZTevb1FYJjwtiyKsvF2iyHaJBbFK4ji_LVU7M2tczh8MEOwsIqvLkrP6XGvi8ETV1cWw/w130-h200/9781838048884.jpg" width="130" /></a></div><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">Y<span style="font-size: medium;">ou'll need an umbrella for this</span></a></i><p></p><div>"[...] Victoria Richards has created a journey through girlhood to motherhood that invites readers to travel along though her humanity, humour, wry observations and recognisable scenarios. These lyrical poems want to share their stories and show what it is to be human. Their multi-layered approach rewards re-reading."</div><div><b>Emma Lee</b>, full review <a href="https://emmalee1.wordpress.com/2022/10/12/youll-need-an-umbrella-for-this-victoria-richards-v-press-book-review/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>A sample poem, more information and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a> </i>can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>NEW TITLES</b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWgI5gTcUZ0Pn_6h3krP8jrVnpIq1W0YtTEV0cNTtIT3cSGNCWl1_ojgm7b5CgW32xjQ9KWJejdl4sgoA9BHKYdxTCcV-ATEDWuwIbTqGP7ox_wnfO2X5s8fMepAP1mA_r4acTJu8vCE7iRqvNf27c78zYttCXdLJAdU6OOCa22bHa_VqvqPbWyp2_w/s2560/Set%20a%20Crow%20to%20Catch%20a%20Crow%20kindle%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWgI5gTcUZ0Pn_6h3krP8jrVnpIq1W0YtTEV0cNTtIT3cSGNCWl1_ojgm7b5CgW32xjQ9KWJejdl4sgoA9BHKYdxTCcV-ATEDWuwIbTqGP7ox_wnfO2X5s8fMepAP1mA_r4acTJu8vCE7iRqvNf27c78zYttCXdLJAdU6OOCa22bHa_VqvqPbWyp2_w/s320/Set%20a%20Crow%20to%20Catch%20a%20Crow%20kindle%20cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce that <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/set-crow-to-catch-crow.html" target="_blank"><i>Set a Crow to Catch a Crow</i> </a>by Mary-Jane Holmes is now available as an eBook on Amazon.</div><div><br /></div>“These are stories that pulse with transformation, visceral, lush, and sound-rich. In Holmes’ lyrically-charged short fictions, worlds tilt, horizons thrum and yearnings come unmoored, and the language pulls us close to the bloodstream of her characters, feeling for their pressure-points, their broken wings. Their land and homescapes leap to life around them, set alight by breath-catching images that bind us into the textures and electrons of each scene, skin and earth, creek, board and bone. Each brief diorama in this volume delivers us a ‘quivering glint’ of characters caught in slipstream instants, lingering on the verge of fission, or hauled into ‘dark runnels of the heart’ where currents of longing and threat inescapably converge. Holmes’ writing rubs the fibres of life between our fingers, so we feel its restlessness and wonder.” <b>Tracey Slaughter</b> <p></p><p>“The stories that fill Mary-Jane Holmes’ <i>Set a Crow to Catch a Crow</i> are perfect, precise, highly burnished narrative shards that describe a moment in time but imply both what came before this moment and very likely may come after. It might only be a grain you are offered but you get a whole world. It is only writing of a very high order can pull off the feat that is pulled off here.” <b>Carlo Gébler </b></p><p><i>Set a Crow to Catch a Crow</i> is very textured and very liminal. </p><p>A sample flash fiction from <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/set-crow-to-catch-crow.html" target="_blank">Set a Crow to Catch a Crow</a></i> can be enjoyed <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/set-crow-to-catch-crow.html">here</a>.</p><p><b style="font-size: large;">NOW AVAILABLE AS AN EBOOK IN THE U.K. AND INTERNATIONALLY ON KINDLE through Amazon, including Amazon.co.uk <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BHL5DZ1M" target="_blank">here </a>and Amazon.com <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BHL5DZ1M" target="_blank">here</a>.</b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;"><br /></b></p><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>NOW AVAILABLE TO PRE-ORDER</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEymp-a_LdqbLggfbYWWwEMd-052D3JylVz5Ll04wlUOQ7fgnPMly_Jt386LFKEpxEuZNmKdSaGnX1aqJ9OXs7o7ORZBXjB40Dw0czmQ-EB0EmExQWAcc12NT_nmMj0aFCqn9tQT99d6KMXdruqe9-U1Aw1wj8kCCcQuUMDkdH-n35xuFTeH2GRUPVzA/s2481/9781739883836.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2481" data-original-width="1753" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEymp-a_LdqbLggfbYWWwEMd-052D3JylVz5Ll04wlUOQ7fgnPMly_Jt386LFKEpxEuZNmKdSaGnX1aqJ9OXs7o7ORZBXjB40Dw0czmQ-EB0EmExQWAcc12NT_nmMj0aFCqn9tQT99d6KMXdruqe9-U1Aw1wj8kCCcQuUMDkdH-n35xuFTeH2GRUPVzA/s320/9781739883836.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce that <i>Powerless Rangers</i> by Jack McGowan is now available to pre-order.</div><p></p>“There is such an open-hearted charm, an immediacy and pleasure of recognition to these poems that it takes a moment to realise how they’re working on you. The forensic attention to nostalgia, popular culture as a natural and built environment; what surrounded us and moulded us and exerts invisible influence over us to this day. McGowan is a master of engaging humour and subtle melancholy. I dislike the word ‘relatable’, but I expect that’s the easiest term people will reach for, even as the poems themselves unpick our complex relations to our world.”<br /><b>Luke Kennard</b><p></p><p>“The poems in <i>Powerless Rangers</i> enchant through their spoken power. They are clear-eyed about what makes us who we are and show true strength through their openness, compassion, and self-knowledge. The humour, language, and energy will win over readers and audiences alike.”<br /><b>David Morley </b></p><p>“McGowan’s poems are loud, with their energetic wit and playful meanderings, but they disguise a romantic, nostalgic centre and when it surfaces the audience or reader are encouraged to switch from one emotion to another in a second – which is a delight.”<br /><b>Ruth Stacey</b></p><p><i>Powerless Rangers</i> is very nostalgic, and very nineties. </p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-3-6 <br />34 pages<br />R.R.P. £6.50</p><p>A sample poem and pre-ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" target="_blank">Powerless Rangers</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/powerless-rangers.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p><b style="font-size: x-large;">WELCOME TO THE READING ROOM</b></p></div><div><br /></div><div>Just a reminder that if you're looking for a Christmas gift, our <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-reading-room.html" target="_blank">The Reading Room</a> contains themed listings for some of our titles to help you pick out the perfect present for a reader with particular interests. New listings have just been added which extend the range even more than before! You can get to <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-reading-room.html" target="_blank">The Reading Room</a> by clicking <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-reading-room.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-23035444261519983452022-10-06T00:00:00.067+01:002022-10-06T00:00:00.208+01:00<p><b style="font-size: x-large;">HAPPY NATIONAL NATIONAL POETRY DAY!</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6KsU_Ohw2GIRnbskrMKaLtQIO61ASJ0TnwxolA-3ax-CGN1WDZbVXA6v66b9D1DWhNpTCRgwhHBr11xapIsNL2DES6Dd-h7ObeWVMkVTmrVjyHXJ1jIz2BWBIhHtUGuQj2tIq2-_zHbi-uoK4lRG1BW2rszLBAlnH3lQh1YmIXCA4rzykXxSuF2N_g/s2048/9781838048815.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1452" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6KsU_Ohw2GIRnbskrMKaLtQIO61ASJ0TnwxolA-3ax-CGN1WDZbVXA6v66b9D1DWhNpTCRgwhHBr11xapIsNL2DES6Dd-h7ObeWVMkVTmrVjyHXJ1jIz2BWBIhHtUGuQj2tIq2-_zHbi-uoK4lRG1BW2rszLBAlnH3lQh1YmIXCA4rzykXxSuF2N_g/w142-h200/9781838048815.jpg" width="142" /></a></div><p>V. Press is very very delighted to share that a poem from Sarah Doyle's chapbook <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/something-so-wild-and-new-in-this.html" target="_blank">Something so wild and new in this feeling</a> </i>has been chosen for this year's National Poetry Day resources. You can enjoy her poem <a href="https://nationalpoetryday.co.uk/poem/birds-sang-divinely-to-day/" target="_blank">'Birds sang divinely to-day' here</a>.</p><p></p><p>The website has lots of other poetry resources that can be used for this year's National Poetry Day celebration, themed 'The Environment'.</p><p>Another sample poem and more information about <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/something-so-wild-and-new-in-this.html" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Something so wild and new in this feeling</a> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/something-so-wild-and-new-in-this.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>NEW TITLES' NEW PRINT RUNS</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank"><b>The Beautiful Open Sky</b></a></i></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPi-WpkoPyWc90lWsaing-R7G7Z9hMIr3rMRn1wa2krVBjZpLnL4QWx8Xv16_Kvj-zUijH8r8ifY1eKj6TETTL4y2DOB5dQ9iqQvSpiuq_SOJxvkp_9hZeFhJnriS8LNnimQS2305PTuhE4c5KTLMT_C_lrScIc16M7Yrp2t9pniIcK9hTRYp2mGnEqQ/s2860/The%20Beautiful%20Open%20Sky%20new%20print%20run.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2860" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPi-WpkoPyWc90lWsaing-R7G7Z9hMIr3rMRn1wa2krVBjZpLnL4QWx8Xv16_Kvj-zUijH8r8ifY1eKj6TETTL4y2DOB5dQ9iqQvSpiuq_SOJxvkp_9hZeFhJnriS8LNnimQS2305PTuhE4c5KTLMT_C_lrScIc16M7Yrp2t9pniIcK9hTRYp2mGnEqQ/s320/The%20Beautiful%20Open%20Sky%20new%20print%20run.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><p></p><p><span>Hannah Linden's </span><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a> </i>has been selling so well that we've had to order a second print run in the week of its publication!</p><p><span>“<i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> opens with an extraordinary run of poems, heartbreaking and precise, about the damage done by a narcissistic mother. As it progresses, the poems accumulate symbols, becoming increasingly phantasmagorical, before the patterns of a new life emerge as if through broken cloud. It works as a story, direct and emotional, but is also a meditation on how we remember – on the limits of reason and metaphor as ways of understanding the past. This is a fine model for a pamphlet: a focused set of beautiful poems, cunningly arranged, which draw power from each other. A wonderful debut.” <br /><b>Tom Sastry</b></span></p><p></p><div><div>“Truths are slippery and sometimes sinister in this stunning exploration of familial relationships by Hannah Linden. It can be hard to know who to trust, or who is parenting whom. But there is beauty here too, and a positivity that shines through despite the odds. Self-reflective and superb, Linden’s use of language is playful and imaginative. I can’t wait to see what she does next.”</div><div><b>Julia Webb</b></div><div><br /></div><div><i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> is very past and very present. </div></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div>A sample poem, audio recording and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a> </i>is available <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">here</a>. If you don't already have one, get a copy while you still can!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a></i> </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwBpBMUzuWSHmIfPbSU8wQ_k-hE3RJcC3RpwemCZ46u4Kx_O9EeIPudKCNiz3IDzESLT9RkhuJl7Q1RkCM1hEmbx4fFzJuffpmjVoca5fCNnqBvzsBK_008uD521HUvWp5FaeK7SuiuPbSILeylimzrp_nWEKgrP4knboSAdiiXd-vYfka95VDe2D2A/s2000/You'll%20need%20an%20umbrella%20for%20this%20MG_5175%20new%20order%20for%20autumn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1455" data-original-width="2000" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwBpBMUzuWSHmIfPbSU8wQ_k-hE3RJcC3RpwemCZ46u4Kx_O9EeIPudKCNiz3IDzESLT9RkhuJl7Q1RkCM1hEmbx4fFzJuffpmjVoca5fCNnqBvzsBK_008uD521HUvWp5FaeK7SuiuPbSILeylimzrp_nWEKgrP4knboSAdiiXd-vYfka95VDe2D2A/s320/You'll%20need%20an%20umbrella%20for%20this%20MG_5175%20new%20order%20for%20autumn.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p>Meanwhile, Victoria Richards' full collection, <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a></i> was only published at the start of July and we've already had to get a new print run for this too!</p><p>“The title isn’t messing about: these poems soak the page with language that is visceral, immediate and sharp. An exciting debut full of vitality, pain and joy.” <br /><b>Luke Wright</b></p><p></p><p>“In this gorgeous debut, Victoria Richards asks ‘What are girls made of?’ And the poems answer: cans of Strongbow; ballpoint tattoos; dirty jokes; ghost bikes tied to lampposts; Ingrid Bergman’s eyeballs. All of the above and so much more is contained in this collection. A world of mothers, journalists, children and girlhoods are all drowned or on fire in <i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i>. Richards tells us these stories with love, humour, lyricism and the sort of eye for detail which leaves an impression on the heart. I will read these poems for years, pass them onto friends: part secret, part gossip, part gift.” <br /><b>Lewis Buxton</b> </p><p>“Victoria Richards’s remarkable debut, <i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i>, is more than a book of poems, it is a best friend. These poems will be there for you in the middle of the night when you are lovesick or broken hearted; they will glance you a knowing look when you need one most and make you laugh even when you think you’ve forgotten how. In these poems, without reserve, expectation or apology, Richards is offering us her heart. Accept it and she will make a fire out of beauty and pain, pour vodka on the flames and dance with you in the light.” <br /><b>Amelia Loulli</b></p><div><i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i> is very wild and very windswept.</div><div><br /></div><div>A sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a></i> is available <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;">REVIEWS</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_c0oOVKU-RzuFhCQYaDFWwaxGxwJF4vScwy6HSOIRKBND0hc9CaTJXtN-oAOYaRGpVQCVgpcFAxMXkA0o3sae7UJoi2VAO4Xm2ZTshb8ApADiR1vI7HWr4tKqnf04xRA7fKaBY_oK_2FWh39LOmul3GuVRRpxUDy2ti9zGKb-QVw3Z6kKdwk2qe74Cg/s849/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="598" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_c0oOVKU-RzuFhCQYaDFWwaxGxwJF4vScwy6HSOIRKBND0hc9CaTJXtN-oAOYaRGpVQCVgpcFAxMXkA0o3sae7UJoi2VAO4Xm2ZTshb8ApADiR1vI7HWr4tKqnf04xRA7fKaBY_oK_2FWh39LOmul3GuVRRpxUDy2ti9zGKb-QVw3Z6kKdwk2qe74Cg/w141-h200/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><div><br /></div>"[...]Hannah Linden’s pamphlet is full of love, compassion and insight. Her use of language is colloquial yet rich and deep. This is a wonderful debut pamphlet from a poet with many more books inside her. Its first print run sold out within a week!"<br /><b>Rachael Clyne</b>, <i>London Grip</i>, full review <a href="https://londongrip.co.uk/2022/10/london-grip-poetry-review-hannah-linden/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>A sample poem, audio recording and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">The Beautiful Open Sky</a> </i>is available <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/the-beautiful-open-sky.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>INTRODUCING A NEW V. PRESS GUEST EDITOR</b></span> </div><div><br /></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to be working with Charlotte Gann on a new forthcoming title that she will be guest editing...</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="calibri, sans-serif"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZKmQS8u5_oN-ubLlZcOQ4KJtnRH1rO56uG50POXWcPybCUjCPc1czIdfk0LRaca9y25CWSCNzQoRl83jJ9-3HK4QbFsk5-KKAU-8Sp9fIKGpvzSeDYzjodZ0wNHFNapQnxGZskfE0URbvYO7qJuBQ1X-pCS4qTyey3RBoHcxTBX93zxtx2c_93D7iQ/s2992/Charlotte%20Gann.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2992" data-original-width="2992" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZKmQS8u5_oN-ubLlZcOQ4KJtnRH1rO56uG50POXWcPybCUjCPc1czIdfk0LRaca9y25CWSCNzQoRl83jJ9-3HK4QbFsk5-KKAU-8Sp9fIKGpvzSeDYzjodZ0wNHFNapQnxGZskfE0URbvYO7qJuBQ1X-pCS4qTyey3RBoHcxTBX93zxtx2c_93D7iQ/w200-h200/Charlotte%20Gann.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Charlotte Gann</span></b><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;"> </span><span>is an editor by trade – she worked as Editor of </span><i>Health Which?</i><span> magazine, for instance – and also works, within poetry, as Editor of The Understory Conversation (of which she’s Founder), and Co-Editor of </span><i>Sphinx Review</i><span>. She has an English degree from UCL and an MA in Creative Writing and Personal Development from the University of Sussex. She’s also a poet, with one pamphlet – </span><i>The Long Woman</i><span> (Pighog), shortlisted for the 2012 Michael Marks Award – and two full collections – </span><i>Noir</i><span> (2016) and </span><i>The Girl Who Cried</i><span> (2020), both published by Happen</span><i>Stance</i><span>. Her main focus in recent times has been on developing and convening </span><i><a href="https://theunderstoryconversation.com/" target="_blank">The Understory Conversation</a></i><span>, a hub for creatives curious to explore the underside. She is guest editor of Georgia Gildea's forthcoming V. Press poetry pamphlet </span><i>bed</i><span>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50Jn4SPcMy0qxtSVW7AYU7uvLX7QnkoBg6xmv4RN1XuROrosH8j5LKbmvXe3wjE0_sHITIZrg5w0yNU_DwKDncGkWoOFwdPoZF6b9MPWA9t-742uYgolY2h7I8XZz_287ke1FfEemguPf7U_Scj_R64tl5fg0ROXCN5QCj7aTF4IBNfuwXy-WDnw7-A/s2729/Georgia%20Gildea%20author%20pic.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2729" data-original-width="2729" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50Jn4SPcMy0qxtSVW7AYU7uvLX7QnkoBg6xmv4RN1XuROrosH8j5LKbmvXe3wjE0_sHITIZrg5w0yNU_DwKDncGkWoOFwdPoZF6b9MPWA9t-742uYgolY2h7I8XZz_287ke1FfEemguPf7U_Scj_R64tl5fg0ROXCN5QCj7aTF4IBNfuwXy-WDnw7-A/w200-h200/Georgia%20Gildea%20author%20pic.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">GEORGIA GILDEA is a writer from Oxford. She is a graduate of the Warwick Writing Programme (2016) and holds an MA in Creative Writing (Poetry) from Royal Holloway, University of London. She has published poems in <i>Marble</i>, <i>Lunate</i> and <i>The Cardiff Review</i>. Georgia is interested in writing that emerges from a place of voicelessness, and in the complex process of claiming a voice. Her forthcoming V. Press poetry title, <i>bed</i>,<i> </i>is her debut pamphlet.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-63313566796052917732022-09-20T00:00:00.000+01:002022-09-20T00:00:00.234+01:00Launching The Beautiful Open Sky<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0m8_kWkg9fd4bD1DP0M1dIgZLM2XL_E-h9wD8WmPJkwf4dqSOcZBgk7Fnx_1TwK0CyHgUsJCMzg7bCd9Vpkvh5txRZ2at9Hl0-Z_z_AUkrNu2tEgH5TFrcPdVhDOhqlJkgK2PZo8L3It2ofPLUzY9MtMBLDCbyonZukK2wPKEe6CfBPMLpsI0FyTVg/s849/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="598" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0m8_kWkg9fd4bD1DP0M1dIgZLM2XL_E-h9wD8WmPJkwf4dqSOcZBgk7Fnx_1TwK0CyHgUsJCMzg7bCd9Vpkvh5txRZ2at9Hl0-Z_z_AUkrNu2tEgH5TFrcPdVhDOhqlJkgK2PZo8L3It2ofPLUzY9MtMBLDCbyonZukK2wPKEe6CfBPMLpsI0FyTVg/s320/LINDEN_HANNAH_THE%20BEAUTIFUL%20OPEN%20SKY_%20V.%20PRESS.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> by Hannah Linden.</div><div><br /></div>“<i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> opens with an extraordinary run of poems, heartbreaking and precise, about the damage done by a narcissistic mother. As it progresses, the poems accumulate symbols, becoming increasingly phantasmagorical, before the patterns of a new life emerge as if through broken cloud. It works as a story, direct and emotional, but is also a meditation on how we remember – on the limits of reason and metaphor as ways of understanding the past. This is a fine model for a pamphlet: a focused set of beautiful poems, cunningly arranged, which draw power from each other. A wonderful debut.” <br /><b>Tom Sastry</b><p></p><div><div><br /></div><div>“Truths are slippery and sometimes sinister in this stunning exploration of familial relationships by Hannah Linden. It can be hard to know who to trust, or who is parenting whom. But there is beauty here too, and a positivity that shines through despite the odds. Self-reflective and superb, Linden’s use of language is playful and imaginative. I can’t wait to see what she does next.”</div><div><b>Julia Webb</b></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> is very past and very present. </div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-1-2</div><p>36 pages</p><p>R.R.P. £6.50</p><p>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">BUY <i>The Beautiful Open Sky</i> NOW using the paypal options below.</span></p>
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<div><br /></div></div><div><div><br /></div><div><b>Child</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Snow-born to a drift of a girl.</div><div>My hand: her hand, HER hand.</div><div><br /></div><div>My hand is a doll. Bend this way</div><div>bend that. Build snow-men—</div><div><br /></div><div>coals for their eyes, the bruise</div><div>of their stares: boys that are men.</div><div><br /></div><div>Girl drifts into woman. Mother </div><div>me, she sighs; sister me the winter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Grow. Don't grow. Pick a flower</div><div>for a self. Be a bulb in a cupboard.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bloom me for Christmas. Sip of nectar</div><div>that sits with a view of the yard.</div><div><br /></div><div>Home is the vinegar bottom of a jar.</div><div>She births more children, neighbours, sherbets</div><div><br /></div><div>dipped bitter with liquorice. Today she wants me</div><div>film-star, cat-suited in red. Find me a song</div><div><br /></div><div>she hasn't sung. She jived them orange.</div><div>She has rhythm but no time.</div><div><br /></div><div>She catalogued me a fable, said <i>you will</i></div><div><i>understand when you are a mother.</i></div><div> </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Listen to Hannah read her poem 'Mindstrap' here:</div><div><br /></div><div><br />
<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/563379510&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>
</div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-71459507801169201032022-08-08T00:00:00.001+01:002022-08-08T00:00:00.206+01:00Launching Creature Without Building<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KlNkoE7sYOTGqoO0dG_Ad8ACOgegXvDDBkcr4l9rFgOdgoNv3_SUUR3LA7Z3NXW7B4D4DEkKPt01gKOXRTqXMMtlh4fbIZ4qbE_2FMKQ0X8_-G381xQEFt27cNuAhHatuJJ-uTu5t_9i7MgdEJhMnVFMTrWtvPMBWYSxFbTutIIXFC6jfbZfT59hzQ/s2480/9781838048891.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2480" data-original-width="1732" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KlNkoE7sYOTGqoO0dG_Ad8ACOgegXvDDBkcr4l9rFgOdgoNv3_SUUR3LA7Z3NXW7B4D4DEkKPt01gKOXRTqXMMtlh4fbIZ4qbE_2FMKQ0X8_-G381xQEFt27cNuAhHatuJJ-uTu5t_9i7MgdEJhMnVFMTrWtvPMBWYSxFbTutIIXFC6jfbZfT59hzQ/s320/9781838048891.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to share the publication of Creature Without Building, a chapbook of poetry by Ray Vincent-Mills.</div><div><br /></div>“<i>Creature Without Building</i> is a striking debut publication from Ray Vincent-Mills, a poet of exceptional skill and tenacity. The subtle – at times surreal – imagery only serves to underscore the fragmentation of identity provoked by hostile and challenging contemporary cultural politics. At the same time, the poems contained within are laced through with the rawness of lived experience and the precision of authentic observation. In their work, Vincent-Mills offers readers a lens through which to appraise and re-appraise their own complicity in the construction of a social fabric that so often excludes what it should enfold. I exhort readers to keep their eyes peeled for Vincent-Mills, whose star is sure to keep on rising.” <br /><b><br />J</b><b>ack McGowan</b><p></p><p><br />“These poems speak for themselves: bold, bracing, and creating their own style and voice!”<br /><b><br />Sarah Leavesley</b></p><div><div><i>Creature Without Building</i> is very visceral and very captivating. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Winner of the V. Press Prize for Poetry 2021</b></div></div><div><br /></div><div>ISBN: 978-1-8380488-9-1</div><p>36 pages</p><p>R.R.P. £6.50</p><div><span style="font-size: small;">TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the poems in this chapbook deal with traumatic experiences that readers may potentially find disturbing, including domestic abuse, bulimia, rape, racism and graphic violence. </span></div><p>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">BUY Creature Without Building NOW using the paypal options below. </span></p>
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<div><div><b>N.B. Any international customs/duty charges are the buyer's responsibility.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>It takes two</b></div><div><br /></div><div>A whistle directed at a small boy with a clumsy red scooter </div><div>has the father’s eyes on me.</div><div>His lips snap back to the starting line.</div><div>We do not talk,</div><div>but his eyes call mine</div><div>and I think</div><div>there really is something in double takes.</div><div>In wondering if I took my time with the head like papier-mâché,</div><div>discarded the rest, dangled my fingers in…</div><div><br /></div><div>What colour could I be today?</div></div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-29980344612693288822022-07-22T09:05:00.002+01:002022-07-22T09:05:00.223+01:00Summer Reading & other news!<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>NATIONAL POETRY DAY</b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6KsU_Ohw2GIRnbskrMKaLtQIO61ASJ0TnwxolA-3ax-CGN1WDZbVXA6v66b9D1DWhNpTCRgwhHBr11xapIsNL2DES6Dd-h7ObeWVMkVTmrVjyHXJ1jIz2BWBIhHtUGuQj2tIq2-_zHbi-uoK4lRG1BW2rszLBAlnH3lQh1YmIXCA4rzykXxSuF2N_g/s2048/9781838048815.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1452" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6KsU_Ohw2GIRnbskrMKaLtQIO61ASJ0TnwxolA-3ax-CGN1WDZbVXA6v66b9D1DWhNpTCRgwhHBr11xapIsNL2DES6Dd-h7ObeWVMkVTmrVjyHXJ1jIz2BWBIhHtUGuQj2tIq2-_zHbi-uoK4lRG1BW2rszLBAlnH3lQh1YmIXCA4rzykXxSuF2N_g/w142-h200/9781838048815.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>V. Press is very very delighted to share that a poem from Sarah Doyle's chapbook <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/something-so-wild-and-new-in-this.html" target="_blank">Something so wild and new in this feeling</a> </i>has been chosen for this year's National Poetry Day resources. You can enjoy her poem <a href="https://nationalpoetryday.co.uk/poem/birds-sang-divinely-to-day/" target="_blank">'Birds sang divinely to-day' here</a>.<p></p><p>The website has lots of other poetry resources that can be used for this year's National Poetry Day celebration on Thursday, 6 October 2022, themed 'The Environment'.</p><p>Another sample poem, more information and ordering of <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/something-so-wild-and-new-in-this.html" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Something so wild and new in this feeling</a> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/something-so-wild-and-new-in-this.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p><br /></p><p><b style="font-size: x-large;">NEW TITLES NOW AVAILABLE</b></p><p><b><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/fifteen-brief-moments-in-time.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fifteen Brief Moments in Time</span></a></i></b></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgobv9x-xfEbBjf4JE2OA91pKmVSj4oYS8uZX098WUUBamDK9El9cngTDi9NMlfI5s2WEqpVhq4if9_ky7j4GMCnj_ID09EcQRgUSivbP9h0TF67JPTkXurJVHPoxFESYSmPH394debCLihGZXd3S5b8sEDs1UIZdPIntjyhMhSURsRWptaR6bAl6u5JA=s2496" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2496" data-original-width="1752" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgobv9x-xfEbBjf4JE2OA91pKmVSj4oYS8uZX098WUUBamDK9El9cngTDi9NMlfI5s2WEqpVhq4if9_ky7j4GMCnj_ID09EcQRgUSivbP9h0TF67JPTkXurJVHPoxFESYSmPH394debCLihGZXd3S5b8sEDs1UIZdPIntjyhMhSURsRWptaR6bAl6u5JA=s320" width="225" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very pleased to share details of our latest novella-in-flash, <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/fifteen-brief-moments-in-time.html" target="_blank">Fifteen Brief Moments in Time</a></i> by Philip Charter.</div><div><br /></div>“A book of unexpected insights and extraordinary grace, rippling with loveliness, sorrow, and finesse. All taking place in one room, bound by a single unraveling ribbon of time.”<br /><b>David Eagleman</b></div><p>“Charter balances the light but rich ideas of philosophy and time with well-drawn if flawed characters, hustling and striving, and wishing for better lives. As one of them says, ‘There are no checks at the door. Anyone can walk in and expand their mind.’ I’m glad I took my seat for this novella and surrounded myself with the sounds and actions of its characters.” <br /><b>Tommy Dean</b></p><p><i>Fifteen Brief Moments in Time</i> is a very fast and very philosophical novella-in-flash.</p><p>ISBN: 978-1-7398838-0-5 <span style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span>52 pages<br />R.R.P. £7.99</p><div>A sample and ordering for <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/fifteen-brief-moments-in-time.html" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Fifteen Brief Moments in Time</a> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/fifteen-brief-moments-in-time.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a></i> </b></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKZh5d5OiWHS4pv-FdsT8P_2cASE7L3On63_VszjPXmltCXXpQYx9f-gNojtn6fFrTQMteiz_-DjuOSd8UY333IOLM8mdwP6dSL9nhj2IQTa1bVuengqVL5W2HVZhamsoTN_1NgNufdaiKOPPL5drU99R2f8URqVlPrUuThVxe2GDz6kTja5KP2AkUpA=s1542" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKZh5d5OiWHS4pv-FdsT8P_2cASE7L3On63_VszjPXmltCXXpQYx9f-gNojtn6fFrTQMteiz_-DjuOSd8UY333IOLM8mdwP6dSL9nhj2IQTa1bVuengqVL5W2HVZhamsoTN_1NgNufdaiKOPPL5drU99R2f8URqVlPrUuThVxe2GDz6kTja5KP2AkUpA=s320" width="208" /></a></div><p>Meanwhile, our latest poetry collection, <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a></i> by Victoria Richards, launched at the start of July.</p><p>“The title isn’t messing about: these poems soak the page with language that is visceral, immediate and sharp. An exciting debut full of vitality, pain and joy.” <br /><b>Luke Wright</b></p><p></p><p>“In this gorgeous debut, Victoria Richards asks ‘What are girls made of?’ And the poems answer: cans of Strongbow; ballpoint tattoos; dirty jokes; ghost bikes tied to lampposts; Ingrid Bergman’s eyeballs. All of the above and so much more is contained in this collection. A world of mothers, journalists, children and girlhoods are all drowned or on fire in <i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i>. Richards tells us these stories with love, humour, lyricism and the sort of eye for detail which leaves an impression on the heart. I will read these poems for years, pass them onto friends: part secret, part gossip, part gift.” <br /><b>Lewis Buxton</b> </p><p>“Victoria Richards’s remarkable debut, <i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i>, is more than a book of poems, it is a best friend. These poems will be there for you in the middle of the night when you are lovesick or broken hearted; they will glance you a knowing look when you need one most and make you laugh even when you think you’ve forgotten how. In these poems, without reserve, expectation or apology, Richards is offering us her heart. Accept it and she will make a fire out of beauty and pain, pour vodka on the flames and dance with you in the light.” <br /><b>Amelia Loulli</b></p><div><i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i> is very wild and very windswept.</div><div><br /></div><div>ISBN: 978-1-8380488-8-4</div><div>74 pages</div><div>R.R.P. £10.99</div><div><br /></div><div>A sample poem and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">You'll need an umbrella for this</a></i> is available <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/youll-need-umbrella-for-this.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>FORTHCOMING & AVAILABLE TO PRE-ORDER</b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank"><b>Creature Without Building</b></a></span></i></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KlNkoE7sYOTGqoO0dG_Ad8ACOgegXvDDBkcr4l9rFgOdgoNv3_SUUR3LA7Z3NXW7B4D4DEkKPt01gKOXRTqXMMtlh4fbIZ4qbE_2FMKQ0X8_-G381xQEFt27cNuAhHatuJJ-uTu5t_9i7MgdEJhMnVFMTrWtvPMBWYSxFbTutIIXFC6jfbZfT59hzQ/s2480/9781838048891.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2480" data-original-width="1732" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KlNkoE7sYOTGqoO0dG_Ad8ACOgegXvDDBkcr4l9rFgOdgoNv3_SUUR3LA7Z3NXW7B4D4DEkKPt01gKOXRTqXMMtlh4fbIZ4qbE_2FMKQ0X8_-G381xQEFt27cNuAhHatuJJ-uTu5t_9i7MgdEJhMnVFMTrWtvPMBWYSxFbTutIIXFC6jfbZfT59hzQ/s320/9781838048891.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>“<i>Creature Without Building</i> is a striking debut publication from Ray Vincent-Mills, a poet of exceptional skill and tenacity. The subtle – at times surreal – imagery only serves to underscore the fragmentation of identity provoked by hostile and challenging contemporary cultural politics. At the same time, the poems contained within are laced through with the rawness of lived experience and the precision of authentic observation. In their work, Vincent-Mills offers readers a lens through which to appraise and re-appraise their own complicity in the construction of a social fabric that so often excludes what it should enfold. I exhort readers to keep their eyes peeled for Vincent-Mills, whose star is sure to keep on rising.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>J</b><b>ack McGowan</b></div><p><span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><p></p><p>“These poems speak for themselves: bold, bracing, and creating their own style and voice!” <br /><b>Sarah Leavesley</b></p><div><div><i>Creature Without Building</i> is very visceral and very captivating. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Winner of the V. Press Prize for Poetry 2021</b></div></div><div><br /></div><div>ISBN: 978-1-8380488-9-1<br />36 pages<br />R.R.P. £6.50</div><div><span style="font-size: small;">TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the poems in this chapbook deal with traumatic experiences that readers may potentially find disturbing, including domestic abuse, bulimia, rape, racism and graphic violence. </span></div><p>A sample poem and pre-ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank">Creature Without Building</a></i>, which is published in August 2022, can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/creature-without-building.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>AWARDS & REVIEWS</b></span></p><p><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/may-we-all-be-artefacts.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">May We All Be Artefacts</span></a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqHHfWqlJDTES6l2lEwKW_D0nsKUOHH8dCXM3ctyxVAkT2GaS-m3sBr2LjwzI_oqnGcwf477LJf0pRdZ12mTY-mUMUmloYnFF-tcK9mE9AUBGie37mtMx8U8yALh4yxGwCKBRbHtYPVpwo-azyw6JXAUw0M-f38gTZwVbXxEECCwP_DiU3v9LPuQcFQ/s2048/9781838048822.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1447" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqHHfWqlJDTES6l2lEwKW_D0nsKUOHH8dCXM3ctyxVAkT2GaS-m3sBr2LjwzI_oqnGcwf477LJf0pRdZ12mTY-mUMUmloYnFF-tcK9mE9AUBGie37mtMx8U8yALh4yxGwCKBRbHtYPVpwo-azyw6JXAUw0M-f38gTZwVbXxEECCwP_DiU3v9LPuQcFQ/w141-h200/9781838048822.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br />V. Press is very delighted to see Chloe Hanks' <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/may-we-all-be-artefacts.html" target="_blank">May We All Be Artefacts</a></i> receive a special mention in the Best poetry pamphlet category of the Saboteur Awards 2022. <div><br /></div><div>A sample poem, more information and ordering for <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/may-we-all-be-artefacts.html" target="_blank">May We All Be Artefacts</a></i> can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/may-we-all-be-artefacts.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>The full shortlist and special mentions for all categories of the award can be found <a href="https://sabotagereviews.com/2022/04/14/saboteur-awards-festival-2022-the-shortlists/" target="_blank">here</a>.<p></p><p><br /><br /></p><p><i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/what-love-would-smell-like.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">What love would smell like</span></a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOG-RKhgam_BRJ4fKbTA2CoqC6pMmcoa0ri4kpAIgzgyDlBzLQJTU8V-_ne9NBgEVz4dLIJ9VEWNU8vZAypGBwivM5QLjECJWVeDnzfpeg-yCHbgcDcKRcx_noLfDoYEkNpsHjL_54oN_2FLyKATFO_3V4woatrosQb-2Kv-FvT3Y8ya_DCWfeRQiRew/s870/what%20love%20would%20smell%20like%20with%20bleed.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="870" data-original-width="612" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOG-RKhgam_BRJ4fKbTA2CoqC6pMmcoa0ri4kpAIgzgyDlBzLQJTU8V-_ne9NBgEVz4dLIJ9VEWNU8vZAypGBwivM5QLjECJWVeDnzfpeg-yCHbgcDcKRcx_noLfDoYEkNpsHjL_54oN_2FLyKATFO_3V4woatrosQb-2Kv-FvT3Y8ya_DCWfeRQiRew/w141-h200/what%20love%20would%20smell%20like%20with%20bleed.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br />"These are tender poems, rich in intertextual images.[…] Grout handles form and content with dexterity and a lightness of touch.[…] These poems of love, desire, and loss create an intimate portrayal of female love. ‘Ursa Minor’ describes home as ‘a place like/ Sunday morning coffee and two opposite words/ pushed together to make something delicious// and startling’. This description can equally be applied to Grout’s evocative pamphlet."<p></p><p><b>Mary Mulholland</b>, <i><a href="https://www.alchemyspoon.org/" target="_blank">The Alchemy Spoon</a></i>, issue 6</p><p>A sample poem, more about <i><a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/what-love-would-smell-like.html" target="_blank">What love would smell like</a> </i>and ordering for the chapbook can be found <a href="https://vpresspoetry.blogspot.com/p/what-love-would-smell-like.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647083855251334475.post-53880967946175589862022-07-01T00:00:00.007+01:002022-07-01T00:00:00.204+01:00Launching You'll need an umbrella for this<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKZh5d5OiWHS4pv-FdsT8P_2cASE7L3On63_VszjPXmltCXXpQYx9f-gNojtn6fFrTQMteiz_-DjuOSd8UY333IOLM8mdwP6dSL9nhj2IQTa1bVuengqVL5W2HVZhamsoTN_1NgNufdaiKOPPL5drU99R2f8URqVlPrUuThVxe2GDz6kTja5KP2AkUpA=s1542" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKZh5d5OiWHS4pv-FdsT8P_2cASE7L3On63_VszjPXmltCXXpQYx9f-gNojtn6fFrTQMteiz_-DjuOSd8UY333IOLM8mdwP6dSL9nhj2IQTa1bVuengqVL5W2HVZhamsoTN_1NgNufdaiKOPPL5drU99R2f8URqVlPrUuThVxe2GDz6kTja5KP2AkUpA=s320" width="208" /></a></div><div>V. Press is very very delighted to announce the publication of <i>You'll need an umbrella for this</i> by Victoria Richards.</div><div><br /></div>“The title isn’t messing about: these poems soak the page with language that is visceral, immediate and sharp. An exciting debut full of vitality, pain and joy.” <b>Luke Wright</b><p></p><p>“In this gorgeous debut, Victoria Richards asks ‘What are girls made of?’ And the poems answer: cans of Strongbow; ballpoint tattoos; dirty jokes; ghost bikes tied to lampposts; Ingrid Bergman’s eyeballs. All of the above and so much more is contained in this collection. A world of mothers, journalists, children and girlhoods are all drowned or on fire in <i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i>. Richards tells us these stories with love, humour, lyricism and the sort of eye for detail which leaves an impression on the heart. I will read these poems for years, pass them onto friends: part secret, part gossip, part gift.” <b>Lewis Buxton</b> </p><p>“Victoria Richards’s remarkable debut, <i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i>, is more than a book of poems, it is a best friend. These poems will be there for you in the middle of the night when you are lovesick or broken hearted; they will glance you a knowing look when you need one most and make you laugh even when you think you’ve forgotten how. In these poems, without reserve, expectation or apology, Richards is offering us her heart. Accept it and she will make a fire out of beauty and pain, pour vodka on the flames and dance with you in the light.” <b>Amelia Loulli</b></p><div><i>You’ll need an umbrella for this</i> is very wild and very windswept.</div><div><br /></div><div>ISBN: 978-1-8380488-8-4</div><div>74 pages</div><div>R.R.P. £10.99</div>
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<div>A sample poem can be enjoyed below.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">BUY You'll need an umbrella for this NOW using the paypal options below.</span></div><div><br /></div>
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<div><div><b>You’ll need an umbrella for this </b></div><div><br /></div><div>I hold on to the handlebars of the buggy </div><div>like they’re an anchor, tethering me to the pavement. </div><div><br /></div><div>Without them I am rudderless, adrift – </div><div>my stomach full of metal wool, cutting me slowly. </div><div><br /></div><div>No one can see me bleeding right here </div><div>on the street. They just say, “How’s the baby?” </div><div><br /></div><div>as my spleen ruptures, my liver withers, twists itself </div><div>inside out. My gums shrivel up around my teeth, </div><div><br /></div><div>which start dropping like rain. They form pearlescent </div><div>puddles for you to crunch through. The wave </div><div><br /></div><div>surges up, up, up and breaks over the berth of my inner ear;</div><div>my eyes leak floodwaters, red with the bodies </div><div><br /></div><div>of billions of crustaceans who meet a slow, wet end. </div><div>How ironic – to be a creature born of sea, dead by drowning. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>V. Presshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18118887253153332194noreply@blogger.com0