E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

Sad news.  British poet Peter Reading died recently.  His obituary appears today in several papers, including the Telegraph .

Eyewear thought that 2011 was an extraordinary year for music, though many anticipated bands and artists underperformed, with lacklustre releases, not least Coldplay , who have become pathetically upbeat in a bland way that seems utterly out of sync with the times.  This was very much the year of brilliant women, as well as folk/Americana.  Here is the playlist of 2011 - 45 minutes of excellence. Nick Lowe - 'Sensitive Man' - Lowe's return was most welcome, and this jaunty, old-fashioned tune had the lovely surprise of "I'm no dinky-doo". Nathaniel Rateliff - 'You Should've Seen The Other Guy' - in a year of (yes) sensitive, reflective Americana, Rateliff's broken-yet-defiant persona in this song seemed to capture the sad-sackery of our serial-recession era with dry humour and poignancy. John Maus - 'Keep Pushing On' - 2011 saw many bands explore techno, synths, and 80s stylings, but no one else came up with a more hauntingly ...

Mike Loveday reviews Dayship by Helen Lovelock-Burke The poems in Lovelock-Burke’s debut collection Dayship are the kind of poems for which people first fall in love with poetry. The landscapes are the poetry landscapes we know and cherish: apple trees, thicket hedges, farmland, the oceans and tides, dreams, the changes of days and sunlight, memories of loved ones, silence and shadow, stars and clouds, frosts and winds. And they are invested with a mixture of nostalgia, celebration, regret and hope. What makes Lovelock-Burke’s work particularly delightful is the deceptive way in which words are put together strangely, yet so simply that you hardly notice that strangeness. The poet twists traditional syntax and vocabulary just enough to make the words start sparking against each other.  We are in familiar territory but the poet is keeping us on our toes: “We curve the land and sky over this one black winter thorn and thicket hedge. Bend into us, bury yoursel...

Conor Clooney (pictured) is one of Kingston University's Poetry Now students.  Here is a recent sonnet of his, written for my class. I find it very moving, and adept. My Father’s Tattoos I remember looking at your tattoos. When I was a child I’d stare for hours Hoping that one day I’d be just like you; Smelling of ciggys and whisky sours. You’d come home late with swallows on your hands And women on your arms. My name branded On your bicep. I cannot understand Why it is there and you’re not here. Stranded In the flat, I wait for you to come home And kiss me and play with me in the dark, But you don’t and now you’ll never know That I wanted you tattooed on my heart. So now I see that like you they lose their colour And I should’ve tried to be more like my mother. Poem by Conor Clooney

Vesna Goldsworthy won the Crashaw Prize this year from Salt, for her new poetry collection in English - she's already well-known for her prose writing.  She's a professor of creative writing at Kingston University, and a colleague of mine there.  It is being launched tonight.

Canada has changed.  No longer boring, it is now one of the richest countries in the world, with the largest reserves of oil after Saudi Arabia - alas, it is also becoming more conservative, in a Bush -like way.  The Canadian government has signalled it will not renew its Kyoto obligations.  Indeed, the decision (aided and abetted by the UK) to develop the Alberta Tar Sands, is horrific - if this goes ahead, dangerous global warming will be unstoppable.  I am not sure what to do, as an expat Canadian, except to say there is a new kind of international figure swaggering on the world stage: The Ugly Canadian - the Toxic Canuck.

Sad news.  The most flamboyant of British film directors has died.  His wrestling nude men will never be forgotten.