Thursday, November 21, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Carol Ann Duffy


Scottish poet, playwright, freelance writer and current Poet Laureate, the first woman to hold that title.
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Carol Ann Duffy
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
Duffy quotes
As anyone who has the slightest knowledge of my work knows, I have little in common with Larkin, who was tall, taciturn and thin-on-top, and unlike him I laugh, nay, sneer, in the face of death. I will concede one point: we are both lesbian poets.
Duffy
What do I have
to help me, without spell or prayer,
endure this hour, endless, heartless, anonymous,
the death of love?




Duffy Carol Ann quotes
Light gatherer. You fell from a star
into my lap, the soft lamp at the bedside
mirrored in you,
and now you shine like a snowgirl,
a buttercup under a chin, the wide blue yonder
you squeal at and fly in.
Duffy Carol Ann
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
Carol Ann Duffy quotes
This is the word tightrope. Now imagine
a man, inching across it in the space
between our thoughts. He holds our breath.
Carol Ann Duffy
There'll be what you might call a moment of inspiration – a way of seeing or feeling or remembering, an instance or a person that's made a large impression. Like the sand and the oyster, it's a creative irritant. In each poem, I'm trying to reveal a truth, so it can't have a fictional beginning
Duffy Carol Ann quotes
One saw I was alive. Loosened
his belt. My bowels opened in a ragged gape of fear.
Between the gap of corpses I could see a child.
The soldiers laughed. Only a matter of days separate
this from acts of torture now. They shot her in the eye.
Duffy
When you have a child, your previous life seems like someone else's. It's like living in a house and suddenly finding a room you didn't know was there, full of treasure and light.
Duffy Carol Ann
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love...
Carol Ann Duffy
I cannot say where you are. Unreachable
by prayer, even if poems are prayers. Unseeable
in the air, even if souls are stars.




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