Launch of ‘this hall of several tortures’, by reuben woolley

histories, by Reuben Woolley

Thanks to The Chocolate Poetry Club and Paul Point. This was recorded there in August, 2015.

Launch of ‘broken stories’ by reuben woolley

Most poetry books are launched (and many sold) at readings all over the UK. As I live in Spain, this is not possible for me, so here is the launch of my new collection, broken stories.

 

Copies may be obtained from the publisher, Rhys Jones at 20/20 Vision Media Publishing by email: rhysjones@twentytwentyvisionmedia.com

 

Get a copy for Christmas for yourself and friends and relations and, at the same time you can show your support for the small indie publishers who, in turn, support us.

Poetry reading from Marrakech – Reuben Woolley

Not great video recording but it will have to do until I get a better one. This is my reading from the first day of the 4th International Festival of Poetry in Marrakech.

histories by Reuben Woolley

 

the girl

who danced

the ibis moon……….she brings

the story of it all

& this

is the telling

 

close

 

& personal………….my sudden

consent…….&……..distance

is full………………………….i have

my history here

in the pulse of it all

 

and this is the saying of it

 

the dark days

& my growing

in bones & bodies

& here……………….i’m doing

a telling of it

 

the legs………..& mouths………..& hearts of it

she dances alphabets

in the crescent fire

 

& the boat returns the day

 

*     *     *     *

 

this

is the telling of it all

 

there is mud

& reeds……….& a boat

in the sky…….& i

have names for them

 

the threads of what it is

& what we know……………..she

danced a world for us

 

*    *    *     *

 

in my sinking

sands

things

do not occur successively

like gravity

oh        then

 …i’ll get up

…& fly

 

to all my……………….scattered

dependencies

 

it’s what this………………….thing

says

when i’m not looking

 

words

of those hands i haven’t got

just these…………….poor

counterfeits

 

hold…………………..separate

like atoms…………..do not

touch……………she

stirs

the air

the cells are orphans

pointing………………….further

 

she is

maker…………..in every outward

move

 

of that old………………..yellow

crescent

 

*     *     *     *

 

all the rest

is outside

where a feather

is counterweight

 

the ghosts of real

come solid from shade…………..they play

on red sand…………with a girl

who danced a bird

 

wings spread & beating

the ibis & the girl

she danced a boat

sailing she danced a ragged

book

& this

was the telling of it

 

(with thanks to Paul Point at the Chocolate Poetry Club for the filming and editing. Get in touch with him if you’re interested in doing something similar)

Poems from ‘skins’ by Reuben Woolley

tired eyes blink in daylight by reuben woolley

 

she carries only
……….thoughts
inside
those…………..personal
nights.she will not lose

………………….unwearing
pain like garlands
just ghosts
…………..hanging
…………..tight
she walks in dark spaces

unwinds
a brief river / the crazy
shreds of time
……………………will last
a needed while

she folds it up………& fades
…………………a simple exit

*     *     *     *

……………………….i live
with rust
& scales
………….falling

i could say this otherwise
…………………..the dead
are only slightly buried.we dream
of orbits & hurtling stars
………..walk
quietly
& think it all a different way

..

This is another poem from my book, skins, published by Hesterglock Press. ALL profits from the book are going to CalAid, a reputable organisation which works with the refugees in Calais and beyond. 

You can buy the book here: https://hesterglockpress.wordpress.com/reuben-woolley-skins/

travelling by reuben woolley

 

not here
i’ve faded
into shade……………black-holing
under waters
i’m bleeding myself alive
again
………..grasping
for this new throat
will breathe me back
from here…………….i am not seen

…………..& i’ll sing
the new figures
these flights of leather
faces / salt survivors
i shall remember
hands
lost
…….falling
from splinters

soon…..i say
a sun
in a new sky
& i shall sleep

the old crow welcomes winter by reuben woolley

 

i change……not hill
not tree
………….to other rules

the next step’s
the liquid fall
………….are deeper
tales……like a still sea
whispering……………..we are
unobvious………….& dead ships sail
to other songs

i keep the notes
close………………& everything’s a little
harder
a little…………….more tired
just asking
what it’s like to be human

………….there are places
where the world seeps through
where monsters

…………………….gather
like shells
on empty beaches………………holes
in the sky
…………….are
singular response
from all my voices

 

a cold wind tonight