Heart Broke
REVIEW
by Anna Meryt Tambourine Press, 2013 Paperback ÂŁ5.50 Reviewed by Adele Geraghty
W
ho is there who hasn't at some time heard words to the effect, 'There are no guide books for relationships'? Well, one may now exist in 'Heart Broke' by Anna Meryt. Stop right there, if you're imagining another insipid volume of gut wrenching love poems. Rather, imagine a strong woman who is undefeated by loss, a survivor...(cue Gloria Gaynor). Seriously though, it is what it claims to be, which is twenty years worth of poems gleaned from the pain and loss of doomed relationships and gathered in one volume, specifically for those who are suffering this same loss. According to the author, 'Perhaps by reading these poems you'll know you are not alone. Talk to someone else and you'll find they too have experienced loss and sadness'. Good advice and easily overlooked when wallowing in despair. So here we have a 'girlfriend book', something to turn to when there is no shoulder to cry on; to inspire hope through experience and identification. But all the poems in Meryt's collection aren't emotional dam busters. Some are provocatively simple vignettes, minute and mundane slices of life, all which simply go on no matter how much one may suffer. And therein lies the reality and precisely what a fellow relationship soldier, battle scarred and weary, needs to read! Some of the poems titles are a dead give-away,
Find out more... Anna maintains a blog at:
www.amerytpoetryetc.blogspot.co.uk
to the strength of character it takes to wear a broken heart on one's sleeve. Meryt does her motivation proud with titles like 'Hurling Bricks', 'Staying Alive', 'A Shell Explodes' and 'Give Me A Break', redefining formidable retaliation through specific word grouping. Her titles scream of subliminal messaging, packing a punch. The fine line between coming to terms and throwing in the towel is tantalizing, repetitively daring to scratch a raw wound ; Red Kimono I wore my red kimono while I scrubbed the sink and as I poured the bleach I thought of you. I wore my red kimono while I scrubbed the hob with 'Spotless' household cleaner and wanted you. I wore my red kimono while I mopped the kitchen floor with hot soapy water and cried for you. I wore my red kimono as I wiped every surface with a clean blue J-cloth and wept for you. I wore my red kimono while I made a cup of tea looked at my clean kitchen and thought 'fuck you!'. This is a surprising little volume, which impacts more as it is reread and especially, when the dreaded occasion calls for it.
Gold Dust Issue 25
June 2014
www.golddustmagazine.co.uk
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