[Poetry Friday] The Nakedness Of Woman

Myra here.

It has been awhile since I joined Poetry Friday, so I am glad to be part of this encouraging and affirming community yet again, with special thanks to The Miss Rumphius Effect for hosting this week.

We have just recently launched our reading theme for July – September: Reinventing Womanity, Redefining Womanhood – as we continue to celebrate #WomenReadWomen2019.

I bought this book from a recent book sale here in Singapore, and I thought it would be good to pair it alongside another title from a celebrated Uruguayan female novelist that I hope to feature sometime in the coming weeks.

Standing Female Nude

Poems by Carol Ann Duffy
Published by Picador (1985)
ISBN: 1509824960 (ISBN13: 9781509824960) Bought my own copy of the book. Book photo taken by me and edited using an iPhone app.

I learned about Carol Ann Duffy through the Singapore Writers Festival back in 2013, and I have been a huge fan ever since. This book, apparently, is the poet’s first collection published originally in 1985 by Anvil Press Poetry – hence, showing her evolution as a poet, for those who know her work as of recent.

Admittedly, this is my least favourite of her collections – several of which we have already featured here, including Rapture (see my review here), her Love Poems (shared here for Poetry Friday back in 2015), and New Selected Poems (shared here for Poetry Friday back in 2014).

This collection seemed a little more scattered and too obscure for my taste. I would have appreciated a Poet’s introduction explaining how the poems actually come together in a cohesive fashion, just for the reader’s understanding and edification – but I suppose the reader is expected to be smart enough to make sense of it – an expectation which I failed miserably. At any rate, there were one or two poems that spoke to me, the first of which I am sharing here, the second one I will pair with Armonia Somers’ The Naked Woman which I will share in the coming weeks.

I love the aching vulnerability here – even as it sips the joy of wakefulness and togetherness. There is the fear of loss and the resounding grief that accompanies great intimacy, but still, I come in from outside calling your name, saying something.