-Lawrence Moore
has been writing poems – some silly, some serious – since childhood. He lives in Portsmouth, England with his husband Matt and nine mostly well behaved cats. He has poetry published at, among others, Sarasvati, Pink Plastic House, Fevers of the Mind and The Madrigal. His first collection, Aerial Sweetshop, was published by Alien Buddha Press in January. @LawrenceMooreUK
I also have a Linktree account on which I keep links to my published poetry.
@LawrenceMoorePoetry | Linktree
The Interview
- When and why did you start writing poetry?
I started as a child with a little gentle prodding. Some people resent having poetry ‘foisted’ on them in school, but I think it’s important to give all forms of art to children, so they can discover their affinities and sparks.
I remember being asked to write a poem about a spring at age seven or eight and writing
Moving swiftly from the ground,
water swiftly round and round.
- Who introduced you to poetry?
As well as school, my Mum gave me access to her own poetry and the poetry of John Donne, which struck a chord with me.
- How aware are and were you of the dominating presence of older poets traditional and contemporary?
It’s not something I think about on a day-to-day basis, but as a user of forms such as sonnets and villanelles, I’m heavily indebted to previous poets’ ingenuity. Also, the influence of established poets is all around, even if I often experience it through the poetry of my peers.
- What is your daily writing routine?
I aim to write up to six days a week (usually missing Sunday) depending on time, energy and, occasionally, inclination. On a good day, I will write from nine-thirty in the evening till one-thirty in the morning, pausing to get supper along the way.
- What subjects motivate you to write?
A main objective of my poetry is to express my emotions and desires with varying levels of transparency. In Aerial Sweetshop (and also in my next collection), I have a loose general theme which I can attack from different angles at my whim with the hope of stitching together a cohesive patchwork by the end. That said, I return frequently to love and fantasy.
- What is your work ethic?
I work with mixed levels of discipline and sometimes feel bad when I sense I’ve squandered a good writing opportunity. Through reading Steven King’s ‘on writing’, I was persuaded of the importance of committing to my work, so I write upstairs at a desk with noise cancelling headphones on (and with a considerate husband who keeps the volume low on the TV).
- How do the writers you read when you were young influence your work today?
I wasn’t much of a reader until my early thirties, although I was influenced by songwriters (and Donne) before that. Since getting the fiction bug, I’m a sucker for transportive, atmospheric writing and have tried to make this a facet of my poetry.
- Whom of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?
I had the recent honour of reading and reviewing Tiger Lily, poet Susan Richardson’s new collaboration with artist Jane Cornwell, and was blown away by the unflinching honesty and power with which Richardson attacks the most personal and confessional of subjects.
I also hugely admire Kristin Garth’s ability over fourteen lines to teleport the reader into her world and make them experience her fears and fancies.
- Why do you write, as opposed to doing anything else?
I’ve always relished doing creative things and I’m very lucky to have the time I need to really dive in to poetry, which I believe suits me to a tee.
- What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”
Some people would be very thorough about it and the limited reading I’ve done on craft has been very instructive, but you can be a writer just by sitting down, writing, and learning from your triumphs and mistakes as you go.
- Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.
I have a few poems due out soon, including Chiddingfold 1995, my contribution to Indigo Dreams Publishing’s animal welfare anthology Voices for the Silent and I’m slowly putting together a second book of poetry which, so far, is taking more inspiration from the natural world.
12. What did/do you find so engaging about Donne?
I loved the fluidity and musicality of the language he used. I had a particular soft spot for Song: Sweetest Love, I Do Not Go with all its sweeping romantic sentiment.
13. How did you decide the order of the poems in your book?
Some of my best poems (Pretty Dream, Radagast) appear early on, but a lot of my favourites (My Ardent Friend, Ghost #2, In Deepest Night) appear later, so I’m building towards a personal emotional crescendo.
While I hope to make every poem connect or contrast pleasingly with it’s predecessor, there are five romantic poems towards the middle (starting with Emma) that obviously belong together, like a mini collection within a collection.
Looking back, a lot of the later poems have a feeling of summation about them, as though I’m wrapping up my thoughts.
12. What did/do you find so engaging about Donne?
I loved the fluidity and musicality of the language he used. I had a particular soft spot for Song: Sweetest Love, I Do Not Go with all its sweeping romantic sentiment.
13. How did you decide the order of the poems in your book?
Some of my best poems (Pretty Dream, Radagast) appear early on, but a lot of my favourites (My Ardent Friend, Ghost #2, In Deepest Night) appear later, so I’m building towards a personal emotional crescendo.
While I hope to make every poem connect or contrast pleasingly with it’s predecessor, there are five romantic poems towards the middle (starting with Emma) that obviously belong together, like a mini collection within a collection.
Looking back, a lot of the later poems have a feeling of summation about them, as though I’m wrapping up my thoughts.
14. How important is form in your poetry?
Creatives’ personal tastes don’t always match their art; sometimes, when I hear a favourite music act of mine list their influences and I think ‘really?’. In my case, heavy use of form is largely a reflection of what I really enjoy reading.
Another thing – I reckon I got this idea from Stephen Fry’s An Ode Less Travelled – placing restrictions on what you can do is in many ways a liberating exercise. Sometimes when I know exactly what I want to say, it flows it quickly in free verse, which is very nice, but trying to express myself via gymnastic contortions can lead to me saying what I didn’t know I wanted to say.
15. In your poems you are giving advice on how the reader should lead their lives. How intentional is this?
I’ve come to notice that I often recite my poems back to myself. I may be making mantras to supplement my own mental wellbeing.
16. I know your father was interested in flight, and flight mental or physical or emotional is a thread running through the collection. What does “flight” mean to you?
The whole flight theme is a big nod to my dad, who died in 2018. I have so many fond memories of him connected with flying including the one detailed in Over the Trees, when he lost his model plane, but kept his chipperness.
To me, flight means Michael and in this collection, it works as my multi-use metaphor for love, travel, hopes and dreams.
17. What importance is narrative, story of a journey in your work?
I enjoy telling a story in poems; it indulges my love of fiction. Flight, for instance, was inspired by Patricia A. Mckillip’s Ombria in Shadow, which is full of dark gothic corridors, pursuit and peril.
The journey theme resonates with me personally and is one I’m revisiting a lot more post Aerial Sweetshop.
18. The fantastic, such as “Lord of the Rings” and the act of following where others lead is also a thread I see, often involving night journeys. What do these hold for you?
I just love fantasy!
Now you point it out, there is more leading going on than I was aware of.
With regards to Emma (‘In bedrooms and in storage cupboards, you tried to help me find it’) and Completion (‘I want you to make the first move, catch my awkward side by surprise’), there’s passivity caused by emotional uncertainty.
My Ardent Friend is a poem of romantic devotion, of being willing to be led like a puppet on a string.
19. What significance are sleep and dream in your work?
I write a great number of poems about hope and perseverance, many of which picture future utopias. Dreamworlds are a useful way to place the reader in those pictures and allow me lots of scope to write figuratively about those futures.
20. On having read your book, what do you hope the reader will leave with?
I’d rather Aerial Sweetshop stirred up sentiments and emotions than provoked thoughts. I hope to entertain and endear.
If someone can take something positive from it personally – if it fortified them, for instance – then that would be lovely too.
The Wombwell Rainbow 