Alexandra Davis lives in Suffolk with her husband and four sons and teaches English. Her poems have appeared in Agenda, Artemis and Emma Press anthologies.
Her poem Stag won the Brian Dempsey Prize in 2017. SPROUTS is Alexandra's first published pamphlet. The title poem was commended in the Back Room Poets Open Competition in 2015 and Loss was commended by Andrew MacMillan in the Ver Poetry Open Competition in 2016.
from Alexandra Davis:
TORCHES AND SPARKS
responses to the poetry of the First World War
A critical appreciation of the poems of WWI war poets, to the poems of Edmund Blunden, Wilfred Owen, Isaac Rosenberg, Ivor Gurney, Laurence Binyon, Edward Thomas and Edgar Wallace, and poems written by Alexandra Davis in response.
Publication in September 2018
SPROUTS by Alexandra Davis
Alexandra Davis 's first pamphlet collection follows her winning the Brian Dempsey Memorial Prize in 2017 with her poem Stag.
Rebecca Goss writes:
"Alexandra Davis takes a magnifying glass to familial encounters, describing what she sees there with an honest and unsentimental eye. Her poems explore the fragility of being human, recognising the affection and hurt we can inflict upon each other, but there is such wiseness here, such tender detail, it left me feeling I had read something affirming, and hopeful."
From SPROUTS (September 2017):
I need to make one thing clear:
I didn’t see the stag. My husband did.
He’d been running; he came through the door,
eyes alight; stood taller in the kitchen,
his legs rooted wide, to tell us both;
his joy so urgent. Son and I sat, rapt
by the boy in his voice, the wild life
in his hands and his face as he drew us
a picture of man and stag who had met
in the field this bright autumn morning.
He lifted his arms in revelation, the size!
The size of his antlers! The span! The height!
The throat on him! He was praising the moment,
too big for the kitchen, and we praised it too,
for the gift of the stag now belonged to us all –
that glimpse of the creature briefly rewilded;
its beauty and might to be breathed, becoming
before us a blur of bristles and musk.
© Alexandra Davis