Unfortunately I am the worst kind of hopeless romantic you’ll ever encounter through words. I have memorised¬†and become accidentally able to recite – having searched relentlessly and¬†surgically the work of my most favoured poets – mountainous variations of poems centred on the themes of love and infatuation (which, equally, I have come to learn, are two entities oceans apart).

I thought I’d use Valentine’s Day as an excuse to share with you some of the love poetry I hold dearest. And in no particular order.

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On Speaking Poetry

In one of my seminars last week we discussed the metaphorical ‘voice’ that exists beneath a text, and, particularly, what the label constitutes in the first place. ‘Voice’ is vague, and is criticised for being a go-to term when describing writing that possesses a certain something else, a je ne sais quoi, a voice that we can’t quite underpin.

Although I think the discussion of voice in writing is important, it is a whole different matter and won’t be my point of focus here.

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