[The Forward Book of Poetry 2023}
The Best Poems from the Forward Prizes

"The Forward Prizes for Poetry are major British awards for poetry, presented annually at a public ceremony in London. They were founded in 1992 … with the aim of celebrating excellence in poetry and increasing its audience…" "…collections published in the UK and Ireland over the course of the previous year are eligible, as are single poems nominated by journal editors or prize organisers. Each year, works shortlisted for the prizes – plus those highly commended by the judges – are collected in the Forward Book of Poetry."
—Wikipedia

This is the second Forward Prize anthology I have read, after last year’s 2022 volume. I’m surprised that I’m going to say… that I enjoyed more of the poetry in last year’s volume than this year, but I’d be hard-pressed to explain why. While one can always appreciate the art of the poetry, and the poet’s voice and message, there is nothing, in my humble opinion, like making that individual connection with a poem. I seemed to connect with less of the poetry in this volume than last.

This is, of course, a stellar anthology and one I would recommend for an introduction to contemporary British poetry. I think it’s harder sometimes to connect with a contemporary poem than to poetry written in the past by now deceased poets. Contemporary poetry in this era and in these anthologies seems both expansive and inclusive.

Here is a few lines from the Chair of Judges Fatima Bhutto: Poetry is the art of the ordinary, the invisible, and the everyday. It is the true art of the people. In it’s ability to reach out and connect us to the tremors and longings of the world around us, it reminds us constantly about the power to surprise….

And here is a favorite poem from this 2023 volume

Padraig Regan
"50ml pf India Ink"

Opaque, & black as gravity,
the ink is perfectly unlike

the small glass pot
whose shape it occupies

so passively. It is
something’s burnt remains

that makes it black.
It is the sticky leavings

of the lac-bug
that makes it shine.

(The name of the lac-bug
has nothing to do

with absence, but means,
in fact, a multitude.)

it performs its tiny fractal
creep through the paper’s

knitted capillaries,
& finds itself astounded

with significance. It means
I am not yet dead.

I was not untempted
to leave this blank. ( )