POETRY BY HEART
Now open for business! http://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/# 

NEW / CPRE PRESIDENCY
Andrew Motion takes over from Bill Bryson as President of the Campaign to Protect Rural England

THE CUSTOMS HOUSE
New poetry collection. The Customs House IS now out.

'We could do with a day like yesterday every day in our libraries !!!' Julie Barkway, Wirral Libraries

THE POETRY ARCHIVE
The Poetry Archive is open all hours! www.poetryarchive.org 

CURRENT TITLES
THE CUSTOMS HOUSE (Faber) poems
SILVER  ~  RETURN TO TREASURE ISLAND (Jonathan Cape, 15 Mar) 
THE CINDER PATH (Faber) poems
WAYS OF LIFE: On Places, Painters and Poets (Faber) new collection of essays
IN THE BLOOD A Memoir of my Childhood (Faber)‘The most moving and exquisitely written account of childhood loss I have ever read … a passionate account of a man’s love for his parents and for the countryside in which he grew up … In the Blood will always be Andrew Motion’s elegy to his mother. For those of us fortunate enough to read this superlative memoir, it’s a celebration of mothers everywhere.’ Charlie Lee-Potter, Independent on Sunday

extracts from...

BETTER LIFE

You think I must be asleep when you sit at my bedside
and well might I be what with the late afternoon hush
now the other residents have all retired to their rooms
but no I am not asleep although you could say uncertain
whether I am myself alone or the sum of those I remember
whose voices have become mine along with their destination.

*

I can say this at least. I was born a Brixham girl and dad’s ship
was the pride of the fleet so every day when they came ashore
I had my pick of the mackerel in their beautiful shiny blue suits.
But then again I was stationed on the flying boats. Wasn’t that
a lovely time? The way they came in very low over the harbour
and the deep green water lifted up to greet them or seemed to. 

*

Ask yourself this question. Is it only when you become like me
that you will hear what I have to tell you? Make your mind up.

*

Here’s me when we were in Llandudno on our honeymoon.
I painted my toenails red. If you cared to look you could see 
I still have my toenails red. I do this by myself with no help.
And that’s me dancing round the house – it was the fresh air
kept me going, without a single brown penny in my purse.

© Andrew Motion

HOLY ISLAND

I am behind you on the mainland, leaning
on your shoulder and pointing with one arm
in front of your face at weightless cinders
which are ravens blustering above the island.

Boulder clay on the outcrops, and beaches
dotted and dashed with coal dust. Guillemots
whitening the cliff face. Small orchids definitely
still evolving in a downpour of Arctic sunlight.

How many years are there left to cross over
and show you things themselves, not my idea
of things? Thirty, if I live to the age of my father.
I cannot explain why I have left it as late as this.

Your black hair blows into my eyes but I can see
everything moving fast now. Weather polishes
the silver fields ahead; the ravens swoop down
and settle among the gorgeous pages of the gospels.

© Andrew Motion