Split into 2 chapters – the EP & the LP, Alicia Cook takes us through a landscape of joy, pain and triumph in I Hope my Voice Doesn’t Skip. The subjects were varied – from family and home, to nostalgia, love and world events. There were poems with grief as a subject, which made me reflect on my own losses. Some of the poems on love, of first love – such as Traffic, Signs gave me feels. There are small details that characterise the writing – mentions of straw wrappers, squid ink and saltwater. The second part features writers, Christina Hart and J. R. Rouge, for example. There were some very assured poems in this part of the book. There were a couple of poems I didn’t like, and I would expect that. This was the first book I had read by Alicia Cook and it won’t be the last. I found her poems were compelling, uplifting – they gave me strength and I’m sure if I read this book again I would find something new to like.
You can call me all you like, but I would rather converse through email
STOP CALLING ME STOP ASKING ME TO CALL YOU CAN WE NOT CONVERSE THROUGH EMAIL? I’M SORRY SORRY FOR UNDERSTANDING THIS ONLY WORKS ONE WAY I HAVE A PHONE CALL PHOBIA, ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION I CANNOT ANSWER YOUR CALL AND I CANNOT FEEL ANYMORE LIKE A FAILURE FOR THAT I KNOW I’M A LOSER WITH MY TEETH FALLING OUT AND MY HEALTH FAILING BECAUSE I CANNOT MAKE A PHONE CALL TO THE DENTIST OR DOCTOR’S I AM WELL AWARE OF MY OWN USELESSNESS THAT I CANNOT EVEN GRIT MY TEETH AND MAKE A PHONE CALL – THE FIRST STEP FORWARD ALL THOSE OPPORTUNITIES MISSED –
I shared my poem Why Would I Want to Follow the Lives of Famous People? with you and the response was good, so here is another poem from the yet to be finished or yet to be titled writing project I am working on. A memoir based on my health experiences with depression and anxiety.
Beer glass left / abandoned / on the edge of the table / beside the slot machine / half moon lemon / in a tumbler / slumped against its glass side / ordering drinks between songs / the live band sets up / instruments / tests the sound / cobwebs of froth on the empty beer glass / beginning to disappear /
NOTES Because I didn’t feel welcome in my old home, I used to spend a lot of time finding somewhere else to be. Like pubs. The sort that are rapidly becoming replaced by chain owned establishments. Maybe that’s a good thing. Times change, after all. They must. This is a snippet dedicated to the places that have given me somewhere to be.