Fulfilling my obligations to my long-neglected TBR one book a time. Want to know why? I explain it in the first post here. Posting striking lines daily on BlueSky

This week I read another one of the 50 books I got from Brick during the pandemic. This book spent so long on the old TBR not because I didn’t know or didn’t like Barry, I think he’s a fine poet and I have a couple of his other works, but because the subject didn’t really fire my imagination. The poems in this book are inspired by the letters of D.H. Lawrence.

I will admit that I’ve never really read any Lawrence and I haven’t felt the lack. I have made peace with the fact that I will not live long enough to read even the most minute fraction of the books I would like to. Some things are just not going to get read and so far I have not been confronted with a compelling argument to read Lawrence – until now. There are a couple of poems in this volume that are so truly and deeply moving that if the universe puts him in my hands, I will probably pay attention. If only to find out who Frieda is.

Setting Lawrence aside, I do quite like Barry’s poetry. He is often very understated and graceful, perfect for a slow, savoury read. If you follow me over on BlueSky, you already know I post lines I find striking every day as I slowly read through one book or issue each week. Here is a bit from the poem “Feeling the heat…Ceylon 1922”

In my last dream Frieda is
a rather large flower, lazy
scarlet with petals loose as
tongues. And I, a worker bee
drowning in hot nectar
a final, choking buzz.