JAMIE BRITTON recommends that we all buy at least two copies of a remarkable book of poems
My rubble-full garden’s no use for digging,
I don’t dare go deep. At times I hear canaries
cheep for breath, bogies rattle rails, bent men
cough for sunlight at end of days.
In the church car park, traffic in shifts
charts the day. Flower Arranging, Choir Practice,
Wedding-hatted women, lads in fierce pride kilts.
Floodlights keep the dark in its place.
Tarmac over pit-propped caverns, shaky hollows,
greedy snaking tunnels. The dead recorded
in the new estate roads where salaried men drive home,
hands soft and clean, music playing.
ALAN MORRISON recommends a consummate, heart-warming collection about a working-class upbringing in the industrial north-east
RUTH AYLETT reviews two collections of outright political poetry
by Christopher Norris
The Labour Party proposal to scrap benefits for those unable to work will be debated in Parliament next Tuesday, and threatens the most vulnerable in our society. ALAN MORRISON presents some responses in poetry


