Kevin Crossley-Holland has written nine collections of poetry. His new collection The Breaking Hour was published by Enitharmon Press in summer 2015.
This is a book of meetings. A mother meets her baby. A man steps into his childhood. An old man encounters Godfather Death. And in the persona of Harald Hardrada, a passionate man wrestles with his fantasies, and north meets south. The Breaking Hour invokes Orpheus and Atargatis, Pierre de Ronsard and Beethoven, and moves from Hades to a hellish warzone, the high Alps and to the creeks and saltmarshes of his own beloved north Norfolk.
Open your heart to its slow roll
over - this vast spring tide driving
through the bellbuoys and mackerel shallows
from the flares of Forties and wild Viking,
at last first landing on Scolt Head.
But this is also a book turning on friendship, family, generations and memory - a book of layers, continuities and discontinuities, sometimes playful, sometimes prayerful, sometimes celebratory and someties elegiac, alive to the power of love, and of those trancendent times between times
when the fret
lifts and the world grows wholly wonderful,
(and) we believe for a moment that we've levelled
our gaze and are singing in unison.
Crossley-Holland's The Mountains of Norfolk was published by Enitharmon Press in early summer 2011 and won the EDP/Jarrold's East Anglian Book Awards Prize for Poetry in 2012.
Written over almost forty years, his poems are notable for their perceptive and warm record of relationships, especially that of father and child; their powerful response to the landscape of Norfolk and Suffolk; and their awareness of historical and cultural continuities and dislocation. Sensuous, spare and forceful, many of his poems are also concerned with spiritual dimensions.
In 2006, Kevin published Moored Man:A Cycle of North Norfolk Poems with watercolours and etchings by the Royal Academician, Norman Ackroyd. These poems revolve around the mythical being who embodies the wilderness and warring elements of the north Norfolk saltmarshes.
Ronald Blythe writes:
What enthralls us when we arrive at the coast is neither land nor sea but that narrow flux of both of them called the shore. It is the shore which does most of the talking, which utters, which we listen to. At first it seems to say the same things over and over again, and is mesmeric. Then it becomes both soothing and threatening, musical and dissonant, inspiring and wretched, easy to understand and complex as it articulates things which cannot be heard in any other place. Moored Man interprets this watery voice in a wonderful manner. In a sequence of wild, desperate, beautiful and original statements the seashore tells how it can never get away, how it has struggled in its liquid chains, and how it is both captive and yet free. Moored Man may be tied to the edge but he is never stationary. He is all movement. He may be mud-dull but yet he is a marvellous orator. Although below the rocks, he is a visionary. This is a fine poem. There is a tragic loneliness in it reminiscent of that in Ted Hughes’s Crow. Kevin Crossley-Holland’s Moored Man is the voice of that ultimate geography which separates land from water. He has listened to what it says for the best part of his life and is able to give us this exciting translation.
His poems give off as authentic a smell of East Anglia as do Crabbe’s, and, as with Crabbe’s, the beauty of language is hard-won.
Peter Porter (Observer)
Crossley-Holland uncovers not only words but an entire landscape which haunts and is rich in echoes’
Helen Dunmore (Observer)
These are poems to taste with the tongue and eye of the mind.
Herbert Lomas (Ambit)
Kevin is the editor of The Oxford Book of Travel Verse. With Lawrence Sail, he edited The New Exeter Book of Riddles and the anthology of Christmas card poems, Light Unlocked.
He is the co-founder and sometime chairman of the annual festival of Poetry-next-the-Sea.