Somewhere in front of my name
by
Prosser Stirling
English

About The Book

<p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><html></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><body></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><p>Prosser Stirling's debut poetry collection <em>Somewhere in Front of My Name</em> arrives like a fresh gust in the often staid corridors of contemporary poetry. Eschewing the prosaic in favor of a vibrant tapestry of word painting sound and rhythm Stirling offers a striking array of poetic forms. Whether anchored in a specific locale or floating through abstract metaphor each piece pulses with a singular immediate voice. The craftsmanship is impeccable with magical orchestration and imagery compelling readers to linger and revisit. This is poetry as it should be: a masterful dance of language.</p></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><p>Stirling's knack for selecting the precise word or phrase is uncanny. He possesses an eye and an ear for the extraordinary reminiscent of a seasoned riddle maker. His poems repurpose nouns into verbs breathing new life into the language. Alliteration is deftly employed like a chef adding just the right amount of spice to elevate a dish. Echoing Billy Collins' wisdom Stirling knows that a poem concludes when the reader feels it should ensuring each piece ends where the reader's emotions dictate.</p></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><p>First-time readers of Stirling's work should arm themselves with a dictionary and a steaming cup of ginger tea. This collection promises not only enjoyment but also an intellectual challenge.</p></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><p><em>Somewhere in Front of My Name</em> charts a course down the passionate river of existence with serene yet wide-open eyes. It guides readers through shifting currents delving into profound depths. Stirling's words evoke vivid imagery: Slackened oars break the sound / as my skiff drifts in the silver-plated wake; / between green growing on green / ghosted cypress stumps / stone solemn / absorb the boat wash / to silence my passage. The poet is on an eternal quest for the elusive - the cusp of connection a memory an understanding. Something cherished something lost something not yet imagined. I... take shelter under wattled withes / and bird my way through fell acres to seek you / still not knowing / your face / or name.</p></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)><p>Stirling's keen observational skills and auditory sensitivity are evident in his compact sound-rich lines brimming with implication. Each poem is a puzzle inviting readers to pause and let fresh insights emerge. His work marvels at the grand and the minute the macro and the micro. The cosmic pull between all entities - human to human human to nature human to past - is palpable. Something big watches us / with animacy of an older world. / Is it a god being born / or two souls at eclipse / about to detonate / from nearness?</p></span></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)></body></span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)></html></span></p>
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