Blue-Green Algae
“It’s nature poetry, so it’s pretty, and it’s ugly. It’s us at our messiest, our most incongruous. Running around. Running away. Learning that there is nowhere to run to.”
In Rosie Driffill’s meditation on flora, fauna, fire and failing relationships, birds flee, trees hide, gargoyles weep, Arcadia grows ever more distant, and we – humans that we are – see fit to plant marigolds and dig up dandelions. Cook chickens and swoon over kingfishers. Protect the game birds then shoot them for sport. Build walls, fell trees, and squeeze the sublime out of mountains. Partition the planet into that which we might control, and that which we might idealise, gaze at. Regard the world, regard each other, through the lenses our parents gave us, seldom stopping to simply let things be.
But hope springs eternal; and we still have time. Just.
“It’s nature poetry, so it’s pretty, and it’s ugly. It’s us at our messiest, our most incongruous. Running around. Running away. Learning that there is nowhere to run to.”
In Rosie Driffill’s meditation on flora, fauna, fire and failing relationships, birds flee, trees hide, gargoyles weep, Arcadia grows ever more distant, and we – humans that we are – see fit to plant marigolds and dig up dandelions. Cook chickens and swoon over kingfishers. Protect the game birds then shoot them for sport. Build walls, fell trees, and squeeze the sublime out of mountains. Partition the planet into that which we might control, and that which we might idealise, gaze at. Regard the world, regard each other, through the lenses our parents gave us, seldom stopping to simply let things be.
But hope springs eternal; and we still have time. Just.
“It’s nature poetry, so it’s pretty, and it’s ugly. It’s us at our messiest, our most incongruous. Running around. Running away. Learning that there is nowhere to run to.”
In Rosie Driffill’s meditation on flora, fauna, fire and failing relationships, birds flee, trees hide, gargoyles weep, Arcadia grows ever more distant, and we – humans that we are – see fit to plant marigolds and dig up dandelions. Cook chickens and swoon over kingfishers. Protect the game birds then shoot them for sport. Build walls, fell trees, and squeeze the sublime out of mountains. Partition the planet into that which we might control, and that which we might idealise, gaze at. Regard the world, regard each other, through the lenses our parents gave us, seldom stopping to simply let things be.
But hope springs eternal; and we still have time. Just.
About the Author
Rosie Driffill works as a writer and psychotherapist. Having spent years writing about language, sustainable living and mental health for various publications including the Guardian, Wanderlust and Therapy Today, she began exploring the same themes in poetry. Her debut pamphlet, Blue-Green Algae, is about nature’s demise and the flaws in human nature.
Her memoir of surviving an undiagnosed illness, Suddenly, While Living, was published by Valley Press in 2021. Rosie describes her memoir as being almost as accidental as her illness, but insists poetry is ‘unflinchingly deliberate, a fully-furnished comfort zone.’ She currently lives in Harrogate, North Yorkshire.
Vital Statistics
Imprint: Valley Press
Edition: First (November 2022)
Paperback ISBN: 9781915606013
Catalogue number: VP0206
Page count: 36
Trim size: 216x140mm
