A collection of poetry comprising 48 diverse poems, many portraying dark characters and events unexpectedly juxtaposed with poems full of tenderness and light.

Casgliad o farddoniaeth yn cynnwys 48 cerdd amrywiol, nifer ohonynt yn portreadu cymeriadau a digwyddiadau tywyll wedi eu cyfosod yn annisgwyl â cherddi tyner, llawn goleuni.

There is a blend of rawness and solidity to Graham Mort’s poetry which reflects his rural and urban subject matter. Tones and textures merge together to form beautifully composed poems such as ‘Blueprint’: ‘The village gapes under its exclamation of pines, its charred smudge snowing blackly on to snow.’

He has a powerful ability to describe emotions, as in the poem ‘Desire’, a rich and textural experience: ‘Think of it out there, glinting; a chromium hinge in the swing door of a saloon bar’, and the gentle ‘Later’: ‘I have you dressed in blue, Victoria plum, a dark old bruise, a dress of fine-spun wool, its patina of age.’

Mort has a skilful eye to capture the atmosphere of the urban environment as we see in ‘Pres(c)ence’: ‘A man at a canal yells to his Alsatian bitch; the backs of brick-built houses pass and people somehow keep on living there.’
Poetic description and concept draw together successfully to reflect the rawness of the place. In ‘Amniocentesis’ he presents us with a whole range of different sensations that have an intensity which captivates instantly.

Cut lemons, zest, haste;
The sea’s swell a vast
Optimistic lie,
The windows
Repeating her every move
Her shoulder scalding with impossible sun

In the brilliant ‘The Alchemist Next Door’ he describes perfectly the sensation of knowing but not knowing a neighbour, the intrigue of their activities:

All night his house lights burn and you
picture him at a table etching crystals
from dull stone, their brilliance ringing
his eyes with amethyst.

There is as much power and strength in his closing collection of poems ‘Cuba Libre at the Café Espanã’, the stunning descriptions in ‘Wild Grapes’ where ‘the scrub explodes in splinters of green; hillsides trickle dust, a lizard coils.’ And ‘Fire Festival’ where ‘All night mopeds putter in the street, a salsa band’s bass-lines throb from the beach.’

This whole collection is one to engage with fully and experience the sights, sounds and exhilaration of each poem in turn.

Clare Maynard

It is possible to use this review for promotional purposes, but the following acknowledgement should be included: A review from www.gwales.com, with the permission of the Welsh Books Council.

Gellir defnyddio’r adolygiad hwn at bwrpas hybu, ond gofynnir i chi gynnwys y gydnabyddiaeth ganlynol: Adolygiad oddi ar www.gwales.com, trwy ganiatad Cyngor Llyfrau Cymru.