The Sea Is In My Head - McPartlin, Laurence
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This is Laurence McPartlin at his most reflective and meditative. The joys and rhythms of folk and dance are still there to provide the momentum and energy that drive his words and thinking. In this deeply rewarding collection, Laurence is examining the individuals who have contributed something precious to his life and, through the prism of his family, he develops a buoyant and absorbing vision of the world. There are ancient locations that trigger his memory and emotions - Burgh Island evokes the fisherman's songs and sea shanties that accompany the dazzling light from moon and stars; 'The…mehr

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This is Laurence McPartlin at his most reflective and meditative. The joys and rhythms of folk and dance are still there to provide the momentum and energy that drive his words and thinking. In this deeply rewarding collection, Laurence is examining the individuals who have contributed something precious to his life and, through the prism of his family, he develops a buoyant and absorbing vision of the world. There are ancient locations that trigger his memory and emotions - Burgh Island evokes the fisherman's songs and sea shanties that accompany the dazzling light from moon and stars; 'The Croft in Sutherland' draws forth the shifting ghosts of men and women and those who went to war never to return. These poems are full of voices, tongues that have been stilled by time are given breath and honour by Laurence's joyous verse and extraordinary eye for detail. But it is important that these voices are heard: 'through our eyes/The lives of others Speak,/Past and present come Together'. In Hangershell Rock There's a spirit Here, Raw boned and Primitive It lifts me up Blunts my breath, Shows me skies I can't forget. In Laurence's poetry we have the remaking of modern life into a form that honours and re-energises the work of distant generations, and draws them into the present, to bring idealism and energy to our Covid-cursed world. In Guernica, the songs of fishermen are silent, stopped by the evil of mechanised war; but in St. Hilda's church, the sound of bells will drive the devil out. In Laurence's work, the life force always re-emerges. In the exuberant, Away the Lads, it is the rough hands of working folk who shape the day. 'Where Neptune waits with his rusty fork, We'll tie his beard to the mast alright, and dip his tail in a barrel of rum, and let him whistle to the stars and sun.' And finally, to his great love, his family and grandchildren: the tide is out, there is space to sing and play. 'Fill your buckets, laugh at the Sun, trawl your nets 'Till your arms are spun.' This is a fine collection from Laurence; in its vision and completeness it echoes Wordsworth's pastoral vision and the Romantic poets' magic realism. But Laurence's voice is real and urgent, folks. Join the dance and listen. John Simes December 9, 2021, Challaborough, Devon, UK