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Tonight the Summer's Over
ISBN: 978 1 847772 07 7
Categories: 21st Century, British, First Collections
Imprint: Carcanet Poetry
Published: November 2013
216 x 140 x 5 mm
Publisher: Carcanet Press
Also available in: eBook (Kindle), eBook (EPUB)
The boatman stares through million-pock-marked waters,
tapping a cigarette, shying from the rain
in mac and wellies, beneath a London plane
that rustles and drips. He turns and tells his daughter
to bolt the hut. Tonight the summer’s over.
He heaves the skiff to the boatshed, ties the lines
and double-locks the door. She fits a sign:
CLOSED FOR SEESON. They load a battered Land Rover
with cash tin, radio, stools, as fast as they can,
for it’s raining harder. Lightning blanks the dark,
and then they’re away, the wiper thwacking its arc.
She glances at this ordinary man
then shuts her eyes: she’s damp and tired and bored.
He drives more gently. Neither says a word.
The poems in Rory Waterman’s debut collection Tonight the Summer’s Over explore belonging and estrangement with precise resonance. Born in Belfast and brought up in rural Lincolnshire, Waterman turns an unblurred eye on his own childhood, caught between two countries, two cultures, two parents. Yet his poems are never mere autobiography: they are rooted in a broader concern for the inconsistencies of human experience. Tonight the Summer’s Over becomes a book of love and hope: ‘Lift the purest feather from the wreck. / Ignore the seagulls laughing against the sky.’
What Passing Bells
In the Avenue of Limes
An Email from Your Mother
2. For My Father
3. Ireland, 10
Seeing Him Off at the Station
Craigmillar Castle at Dusk
Faroe Islands: Notes for Three Photographs
Seeing Baby Emrys in Gwynedd
Salisbury, After the Argument
For R.S. Thomas
From a Birmingham Council Flat
Where Were You When...
West Summerdale Ave
53° 09'33.17" N, 0° 25'33.18" W
To Help the Birds through Winter
Shrine for a Young Soldier, Castle Drogo
On Derry City Walls, 1992
Winter Morning, Connecticut
A Wedding Photograph
Back in the Village
The Fields over Winceby Battlefield
Spring Shower, Metheringham Fen
‘You’re a shower of bastards’
Note to Self: Chip Shop Battered Sausage and Other Meat
Stopping for a Moment on Exmoor
The Shipwreck Memorial a Mile from Town
Over the Heath
Out to the Fen
'Rory Waterman writes poems of the kind thereâll always be a need for â poems that require skill to make but donât insist on it, that combine keen-eyed observation and immediately graspable shades of feeling in a memorable way. Watermanâs is a very appealing voice, laconic, unillusioned and vulnerable. His world is a recognisable and convincing one, his rueful, sometimes harsh sincerity is palpable, and he deserves to be read by anyone to whom these things still matter.'
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