Tim Dooley’s collection, “Weemoed”, offers a plethora of poetic styles and interpretations, some formal, most less so. There are some really crisp images littered throughout the volume, although some I think are occasionally let down by their stylistic content.
The title poem is in a way a microcosm of the book. It moves from one style to another – though for my palate is at its weakest where some of it reads just like prose that has physically been broken up into ‘poetic’ lines. Pieces like ‘Lowestoft’ and ‘The Tempest’ work well I think, and there are some great things to uncover: “The silent cinema is full of noises” (‘The Tempest’) , or “the autumn evening \ spread before him like a \ long, unearned reward” (‘Recent Events in Logres’). On the whole though, for me the collection just misses the mark.