Skip to main content

Guest Review: Lockton On Morgan

Katherine Lockton reviews
By Esther Morgan

Sometimes it is the simplest of words in the simplest of orders that allows the subject of the poem “to become itself.” This is particularly true of Esther Morgan’s Grace, where the poetry is deceptively simple on the first reading. It is only after subsequent readings that a maze of hidden links between the poems is uncovered. These links come together to create alternative meanings to Morgan’s words. Morgan successfully conceals the seams in her tapestry of images, which if shown would break the spell that engulfs us as we read.

One of Morgan’s main preoccupations in her third collection is to look at what Wordsworth called “spots of time.” It is in this way that different moments are distilled to reveal the essence behind them. In the opening poem, ‘Grace’ it is the “the moment the house empties like a city in August/so completely/it forgets you exist” that is explored through simple yet amazing images:

                                    “the circle of white plates on the kitchen table
                                     the serious chairs that attend them

                                      even the roses on the papered walls
                                      seem to open a little wider.”


The images are clear, concise and a true depiction of the objects described. Morgan’s simple yet revealing style is reminiscent of William Carlos William in, for example, ‘Red Wheelbarrow.’ Morgan and William’s poems’ beauty and language are simple, but not easy to achieve, and pretend to be simpler than they really are.

Another common factor between the two poets is that they both concentrate on colour as opposed to shape to evoke haunting images in our minds. The poems are so arresting that they stand as manifestos as well as testaments to what can be achieved with simple language. Morgan is so adept at stepping into a moment that when she tells us that she has been doing so since a girl, we believe her.

One of the main images that Morgan uses to investigate her spots of time is the domestic one, which prevails throughout the collection. Morgan adoption of this imagery accentuates the theme of simplicity that is present in all of the poems. She is able to take a uncomplicated scene and through the use of common household images present it in a manner that everyone can relate to and appreciate.

In using domestic imagery Morgan succeeds in creating an air of sanctity to the home in which a table is laid out as if “an altar.” In ‘The China-mender’s Daughter’ she is able to compare people to crockery:

                                      “The people in my life are like plates,

                                      I have to keep them happy, keep them spinning.”

Morgan continues this powerful simile and builds on it explaining, “how she’d check for veins of damage/lifting each piece of fine-bone to the light.” In these lines the china-mender’s daughter's activities are viewed with the same sanctity as those of a Doctor.

Morgan’s use of the domestic image is also seen in the poem ‘After Life’, in which she tells us that:

                                      “As far back as great, great, great
                                                names and faces
                                                            are scoured away

                                      like plates scraped clean
                                                of painted flowers
                                                            by daughters wanting more.”

Here, as in Morandi: Still Lives’, Morgan plays around with the structure of the poem on the page in order not only to inform us of how to read the lines but also to allow them space enough to breathe freely so that we can appreciate them fully. The words employed are visceral and violent yet simple, which means that their impact is greater when read.

Morgan is a master of imagery and it is the uniqueness of the pictures that she creates in our mind that forces us to take notice of her work. She not only puts her own twist on domestic imagery turning our expectations upside down, so that we are struck by the freshness of this perspective, but she also stamps an enduring imprint in our minds. We cannot help but read ‘Grace’ over and over again, trying to unravel the seams in order to understand and emulate her art. Lines such as “sometime in the early sixties/a candlestick takes a vow of silence”, “the embankment buddleia/burning with admirals” and “the children drowsy as flies/in the long classrooms” are all typical of Morgan’s simple yet powerful style which keeps us captivated and turning the pages of Grace.

Morgan’s poetry sings to us in a concert that we cannot help but listen to again and again. Her verse is extremely lyrical and has a lovely rhythm to it which is simple and soft:

                                      “the takings not counted and locked in the safe,
                                        the tables still sticky with rings.”


We are also invited to hear sounds such as “a back-yard dog” who “barks at the stars”, “the thought occurs like birdsong”, “a voice” and “creaking wings.” Morgan fills are ears and minds so that we believe in her “make-believe trees” and “stranger walking in the dawning fields” who “might take her for a vase of wildflowers” she is so still.

In Grace we are led on a journey through stillness, music and simplicity. Morgan’s poetry consistently intrigues throughout the collection, starting and ending with poems that demonstrate her versatility as a poet. Her subtle writing echoes the stillness explored throughout the collection. Grace is an altar to the art of fine writing and should be read by all who love and appreciate poetry.

K. Lockton is currently working as a poetry workshop leader.  Her work has appeared in magazines such as Magma, Rising and online at Eyewear, Poetry 24 and Whippersnapper Press. She is assistant editor of South Bank Poetry.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart?  A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional.  Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were.  For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ?  Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets.  But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ?  How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular.  John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se....

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and  Silence of the Lambs .  I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise...