Alison Lock - Poet, Writer

'Like a gentle voice in your ear, these poems speak of love 
and life and pain and war with words so precisely-chosen 
they will make you tremble' - Laura Sheridan.

Blog: Of Words and Wings

Beyond Wings

Posted on April 15, 2015 at 8:00 PM

15th April 2015




Today is publication day for Beyond Wings!


It is the end of a journey and I'm feeling a little bereft having sent my new collection out into the world to fend for itself. Will anyone understand, will they like it, will they even read it? I am comforted by the fact that many of the poems have been published in single form before and that my publisher at Indigo Dreams thinks it is wonderful; good enough to invest time and money into its publication. 


The title, Beyond Wings, came to me one day last year and I have not been able to shake it off. Nearly all poetry collections I have ever read have a 'title poem' but this does not. I tried – but I could not write a poem after the event. So, I just had to believe that the title would hold together the contents. I feel I was right, it does. It is not uncommon amongst poets to allude to birds or flight or wings in their work, and Beyond Wings mentions specific birds at times, but this is not a book about birdlife. I am no avian specialist, merely an observer of life, and particularly life in the natural world. The word 'beyond' is perhaps more significant in that it relates to the idea that there is a place that is out of sight, further away, a place we cannot see. 


When a poem arrives I allow it to take its own form, nurturing it, and placing it gently onto the page once it has settled – a kind of nestling process. My favourite form at the moment is that of the haibun - a prosimetric form that includes prose and poetry/haiku. There are several in this collection but here are two examples: 


Lifelines

 

 

We are standing on a bridge, stones glued with aged lichen––but there are gaps, cracks, openings. Momentarily they are filled; memories, past walks, listening, naming the times, heaving our packs, unburdening, speaking our lives. Now we watch the water, hear the clatter of river over rocks and on the edge––the plosives.

 

trees

drop their cones

snowmelt

 



Thirst

 

The weather is hotter than usual even for July––the height of our northern summer. As we walk over the hills we see a reservoir in the far distance and our conversation stops. We lick our dry lips and look around for a place to stop; to make a den in the heather, to lay down to absorb the cool earth, to eat the apples that have been bobbing in our rucksacks for miles, or just to stare up at the cool blue.

 

We continue over another hillock and the path widens and the ground is patched where white rags are tucked between the ridges stretching along both sides of the valley.

 

 

flecked moors

bog cotton-grass

the snow of summer



 

 

Copies of Beyond Wings can be purchased from the publisher via this link: Indigo Dreams Publishing, 

If you would like a signed copy please get in touch via the contact form on the home page.  

Categories: None

Post a Comment

Oops!

Oops, you forgot something.

Oops!

The words you entered did not match the given text. Please try again.

Already a member? Sign In

0 Comments