David Calcutt’s poetry collection The last of the light is not the last of the light – available here for £9.99 and in any good bookshop has been reviewed by The Journal. Here are some extracts, as I dare not quote it all – written by Chrissy Banks:
A kind of prologue, Keepsakes, delivered directly from ‘I’ to ‘you’, infers the death of someone very close to the poet.
Many of the poems are written in the first person, but don’t engage in any kind of confessional narrative. Rather, mood and emotion is found through encountering absence, the numinous, elemental and elusive, residing in the natural world.
Calcutt’s poetry is of a lyrical beauty and solemnity that demands many readings and a suspension of too much curiosity about factual detail… like mist or fire, it isn’t easy to remove a piece from the whole and still have a sense of its power as a complete entity
Much of the content is dreamlike or nightmarish, steeped in anguish and not an easy read, but ultimately transcendent and not without hope.
Thanks go to Chrissy Banks, and Sam Smith
On a personal level I return to this book over and over – it takes you somewhere between the words – I find it extraordinary, Nadia x
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