Modern British Poetry and Suburbia

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Poets have contributed to the rich tradition of British literature by capturing the essence of suburban life and landscapes through their lyrical explorations. These poets have contributed to the diverse and multifaceted exploration of suburban themes offering sights into the complexities of everyday existence within suburban landscapes.

The below stated list is only a selection of poets living in the 20th and 21st century in United Kingdom.

1. John Betjeman (1906-1984)
2. Mathew Arnold (1822-1888)
3. W. H. Auden (1907-1973)
4. Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)
5. Philip Larkin (1922-1985)
6. Elizabeth Jennings (1926-2001)
7. Ted Hughes (1930-1998)
8. Fleur Adcock (1934-present)
9. Tony Harrison (1937-present)
10. Roger McGough (1937-present)
11. Hugo Williams (1942-present)
12. Selima Hill (1945-present)
13. Liz Lochhead (1947-present)
14. Grace Nichols (1950-present)
15. Paul Muldoon (1951-present)
16. Helen Dunmore (1952-2017)
17. Philip Gross (1952-present)
18. Andrew Motion (1952-present)
19. Jo Shapcott (1953-present)
20. Moniza Alvi (1954-present)
21. Carol Ann Duffy (1955-present)
22. Benjamin Zephaniah (1958-2023)
23. Robin Robertson (1955-present)
24. Jackie Kay (1961-present)
25. Glyn Maxwell (1962-present)
26. Michael Symmons Roberts (1963-present)
27. Simon Armitage (1963-present)
28. Paul Farley (1965-present)
29. Daljit Nagra (1966-present)
30. Roddy Lumsden (1966-2020)
31. Deryn Rees-Jones (1968-present)
32. Fiona Benson (1978-present)
33. Kate Tempest (1985-present)

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John Betjeman was a prominent British poet known for his nostalgic and often satirical poetry that celebrated English life and landscapes. His work frequently explored suburban themes and the changing face of England in the mid-20th century.

Betjeman's poetry often depicted the charm and quirks of suburban life, celebrating the idiosyncrasies of suburban landscapes and the communities that inhabited them. He had a keen eye for detail and a talent for capturing the essence of Englishness, whether it was in the form of suburban gardens, railway stations, or seaside resorts.

In poems such as "Middlesex" and "Subaltern's Love Song," Betjeman evoked a sense of nostalgia for a disappearing way of life, lamenting the encroachment of modernity and urban sprawl on the suburban landscape. His work often portrayed a longing for the simplicity and innocence of bygone days, even as he acknowledged the inevitability of change.

Betjeman's poetry is characterized by its wit, humor, and affectionate portrayal of English society. He had a knack for finding beauty and poetry in the ordinary, whether it was in the rituals of daily life or the architecture of suburban streets.

His work offers a rich and nuanced exploration of suburban life and landscapes in mid-20th century England. Through his evocative verse, Betjeman captured the essence of suburban existence and left a lasting legacy as one of Britain's most beloved poets.

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Matthew Arnold, primarily known for his critical essays and poetry on social and cultural issues in Victorian England, did not specifically write about suburban life or suburban poetry. Arnold's works often focused on broader themes such as education, religion, culture, and society, rather than the minutiae of suburban existence. However, his poetry and essays did explore the tensions between traditional values and the challenges posed by modernity, which could indirectly touch upon aspects of suburban life.

In his poetry, Arnold frequently expressed concerns about the decline of traditional values and the loss of faith in Victorian society. His poem "Dover Beach" reflects a sense of disillusionment and existential angst in the face of industrialization and social change, themes that could resonate with the experiences of individuals living in rapidly urbanizing suburban areas. Published in 1867, "Dover Beach" reflects Arnold's concerns about the decline of faith and the erosion of traditional values in Victorian society.

The poem is set in Dover, a coastal town in southeastern England, overlooking the English Channel. Arnold uses the imagery of the sea and the beach as a backdrop to explore deeper existential questions about the nature of existence and the human experience.

The poem begins with a serene description of the moonlit beach at Dover, with the sound of the waves rolling in and out. This tranquil scene gradually gives way to a sense of unease as Arnold reflects on the changing tides of faith and belief in the modern world.

Arnold laments the loss of religious certainty and the erosion of traditional sources of meaning and stability. He juxtaposes the timeless beauty of nature with the transience and uncertainty of human existence, suggesting a sense of existential dread in the face of a seemingly indifferent universe.

Dover Beach

The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! Only, from the long line of spray Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land, Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in. Sophocles long ago Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow Of human misery; we Find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea. The Sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world. Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.

W.H. Auden, one of the most celebrated poets of the 20th century, is not typically associated with suburban poetry, as his work often delves into broader themes such as love, politics, and the human condition.

He played a pivotal role as a founding member of The Victorian Society, passionately advocating for the preservation of Victorian architecture. His efforts were instrumental in saving St Pancras railway station from demolition. His parents, operated a family firm specializing in crafting ornate household furniture and gadgets typical of the Victorian era.

However, elements of suburban life and landscapes occasionally appear in his poetry, albeit as part of larger explorations of modernity and societal change.

In some of his poems, Auden may touch upon suburban themes, such as the alienation and dislocation experienced by individuals living in rapidly changing urban and suburban environments. He might explore the tensions between tradition and modernity, or the impact of industrialization and urbanization on the natural and built landscapes.

Auden's poetry is characterized by its intellectual rigor, philosophical depth, and lyrical beauty. He had a keen sense of observation and a talent for capturing the complexities of human experience, whether it was in the form of suburban scenes or the broader sweep of history.

Auden's poetry encompasses a wide range of themes, including reflections on modern life and urban environments. Poems like "The Unknown Citizen", "Dover Beach", and "September 1, 1939" offer insights into the anxieties and tensions of suburban existence.

While Auden's body of work may not focus exclusively on suburban themes, his poetry reflects the broader spectrum of modern life and the challenges faced by individuals living in an increasingly urbanized and industrialized world. Through his incisive commentary and poetic vision, Auden left an indelible mark on the landscape of 20th-century poetry

 W. H. Auden 1907 –1973

I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can Unearth the whole offence From Luther until now That has driven a culture mad, Find what occurred at Linz, What huge imago made A psychopathic god: I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew All that a speech can say About Democracy, And what dictators do, The elderly rubbish they talk To an apathetic grave; Analysed all in his book, The enlightenment driven away, The habit-forming pain, Mismanagement and grief: We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse: But who can live for long In an euphoric dream; Out of the mirror they stare, Imperialism's face And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar Cling to their average day: The lights must never go out, The music must always play, All the conventions conspire To make this fort assume The furniture of home; Lest we should see where we are, Lost in a haunted wood, Children afraid of the night Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish: What mad Nijinsky wrote About Diaghilev Is true of the normal heart; For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark Into the ethical life The dense commuters come, Repeating their morning vow; "I will be true to the wife, I'll concentrate more on my work," And helpless governors wake To resume their compulsory game: Who can release them now, Who can reach the deaf, Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die.

Defenceless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame.

From Another Time by W. H. Auden, published by Random House. Copyright © 1940 W. H. Auden, renewed by the Estate of W. H. Auden. Used by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.

The Unknown Citizen

 W. H. Auden 

(To JS/07 M 378 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be One against whom there was no official complaint, And all the reports on his conduct agree That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, For in everything he did he served the Greater Community. Except for the War till the day he retired He worked in a factory and never got fired, But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc. Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, For his Union reports that he paid his dues, (Our report on his Union shows it was sound) And our Social Psychology workers found That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured. Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan And had everything necessary to the Modern Man, A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. Our researchers into Public Opinion are content That he held the proper opinions for the time of year; When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went. He was married and added five children to the population, Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation. And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

From Another Time by W. H. Auden, published by Random House. Copyright © 1940 W. H. Auden, renewed by the Estate of W. H. Auden. Used by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.

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Dylan Thomas, the Welsh poet known for his vivid imagery and lyrical language, often in his work delves into themes of nature, childhood, and the passage of time, drawing inspiration from the landscapes and culture of Wales.

His poetry occassionaly includes elements of suburban life as a part of broader explorations of human experience and memory. He might evoke the atmosphere of small towns or depict the rhythms of everyday life in suburban settings, albeit in the context of his larger poetic vision.

Thomas's poetry is characterized by its rich imagery, musicality, and emotional depth. He had a talent for capturing the beauty and strangeness of the world, whether it was in the natural landscapes of Wales or the streets of suburban towns.

While Thomas's body of work may not revolve exclusively around suburban themes, his poetry remains celebrated for its universal appeal and timeless exploration of the human condition. Through his evocative verse, Thomas invites readers to ponder the mysteries of existence and to find meaning in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

Thomas' poetry often evokes a sense of place and atmosphere, including suburban landscapes. Poems like "Fern Hill" and "Under Milk Wood" reflect on the passage of time and the complexities of memory within the context of suburban settings.

Fern Hill

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,      The night above the dingle starry,           Time let me hail and climb      Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves           Trail with daisies and barley      Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,      In the sun that is young once only,           Time let me play and be      Golden in the mercy of his means, And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,           And the sabbath rang slowly      In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air      And playing, lovely and watery           And fire green as grass.      And nightly under the simple stars As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away, All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars      Flying with the ricks, and the horses           Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all      Shining, it was Adam and maiden,           The sky gathered again      And the sun grew round that very day. So it must have been after the birth of the simple light In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm      Out of the whinnying green stable           On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,      In the sun born over and over,           I ran my heedless ways,      My wishes raced through the house high hay And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs      Before the children green and golden           Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,      In the moon that is always rising,           Nor that riding to sleep      I should hear him fly with the high fields And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land. Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,           Time held me green and dying      Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas, published by New Directions. Copyright © 1952, 1953 Dylan Thomas

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Philip Larkin, one of the most prominent poets of the 20th century, is often associated with suburban poetry due to his exploration of themes related to suburban life, alienation, and the passage of time. Larkin's poetry offers a nuanced and often bleak portrayal of suburban landscapes and the lives of ordinary people living within them.

In his poetry, Larkin frequently depicts the monotony and disillusionment of suburban existence, capturing the emptiness and alienation that can accompany suburban life. He explores themes such as loneliness, isolation, and the search for meaning amidst the mundane routines of daily life.

Larkin's poetry is characterized by its precise language, sharp observation, and sardonic wit. He had a talent for capturing the subtle nuances of human experience, whether it was in the quiet streets of suburbia or the solitude of suburban bedrooms.

While Larkin's portrayal of suburban life is often bleak, his poetry also offers moments of beauty and insight. He finds poetry in the ordinary moments of everyday life, inviting readers to see the beauty and significance in the seemingly mundane aspects of suburban existence. Larkin is known for his keen observations of ordinary life. Poems like "Toads" and "Mr. Bleaney" offer reflections on the mundane aspects of suburban existence and the yearning for something more.

Philip Larkin's exploration of suburban themes in his poetry continues to resonate with readers, offering a poignant reflection on the complexities of modern life and the human condition. Through his evocative verse, Larkin invites readers to contemplate the meaning of existence and the search for connection and meaning in an increasingly fragmented world.

That Whitsun, I was late getting away:     Not till about One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three-quarters-empty train pull out, All windows down, all cushions hot, all sense    Of being in a hurry gone. We ran Behind the backs of houses, crossed a street Of blinding windscreens, smelt the fish-dock; thence    The river’s level drifting breadth began, Where sky and Lincolnshire and water meet. All afternoon, through the tall heat that slept        For miles inland, A slow and stopping curve southwards we kept.    Wide farms went by, short-shadowed cattle, and    Canals with floatings of industrial froth;    A hothouse flashed uniquely: hedges dipped    And rose: and now and then a smell of grass    Displaced the reek of buttoned carriage-cloth    Until the next town, new and nondescript,    Approached with acres of dismantled cars. At first, I didn’t notice what a noise     The weddings made Each station that we stopped at: sun destroys    The interest of what’s happening in the shade, And down the long cool platforms whoops and skirls    I took for porters larking with the mails,    And went on reading. Once we started, though,    We passed them, grinning and pomaded, girls    In parodies of fashion, heels and veils,    All posed irresolutely, watching us go, As if out on the end of an event     Waving goodbye To something that survived it. Struck, I leant    More promptly out next time, more curiously,    And saw it all again in different terms:    The fathers with broad belts under their suits    And seamy foreheads; mothers loud and fat;    An uncle shouting smut; and then the perms,    The nylon gloves and jewellery-substitutes,    The lemons, mauves, and olive-ochres that Marked off the girls unreally from the rest.        Yes, from cafés And banquet-halls up yards, and bunting-dressed    Coach-party annexes, the wedding-days    Were coming to an end. All down the line Fresh couples climbed aboard: the rest stood round; The last confetti and advice were thrown, And, as we moved, each face seemed to define    Just what it saw departing: children frowned    At something dull; fathers had never known Success so huge and wholly farcical;     The women shared The secret like a happy funeral; While girls, gripping their handbags tighter, stared    At a religious wounding. Free at last, And loaded with the sum of all they saw, We hurried towards London, shuffling gouts of steam.    Now fields were building-plots, and poplars cast    Long shadows over major roads, and for Some fifty minutes, that in time would seem Just long enough to settle hats and say  I nearly died, A dozen marriages got under way. They watched the landscape, sitting side by side —An Odeon went past, a cooling tower,    And someone running up to bowl—and none    Thought of the others they would never meet    Or how their lives would all contain this hour.    I thought of London spread out in the sun,    Its postal districts packed like squares of wheat: There we were aimed. And as we raced across       Bright knots of rail Past standing Pullmans, walls of blackened moss    Came close, and it was nearly done, this frail    Travelling coincidence; and what it held    Stood ready to be loosed with all the power    That being changed can give. We slowed again, And as the tightened brakes took hold, there swelled A sense of falling, like an arrow-shower    Sent out of sight, somewhere becoming rain. Philip Larkin, "The Whitsun Weddings " from Whitsun Weddings. Copyright © Estate of Philip Larkin.  Reprinted by permission of Faber and Faber, Ltd.Source: Collected Poems (Farrar Straus and Giroux, 2001) Source:  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48411/the-whitsun-weddings 

Philip Larkin is often closely associated with the city of Hull, where he spent the majority of his adult life working as a librarian at the University of Hull. Larkin's connection to Hull deeply influenced his poetry and contributed to shaping his literary voice.

In his poetry, Larkin frequently references Hull and its surrounding landscapes, depicting the city and its inhabitants with both affection and ambivalence. He captures the essence of Hull's urban and suburban environments, offering a nuanced portrayal of its streets, buildings, and people.

Larkin's poetry reflects Hull's post-war industrial landscape, exploring themes such as decay, decline, and the passage of time. He often portrays Hull as a city in transition, grappling with the challenges of modernity while retaining traces of its rich history and heritage.

Despite his occasional criticisms of Hull's shortcomings, Larkin's poetry also celebrates the city's unique character and resilience. He finds beauty in its gritty streets and industrial vistas, offering a poignant reflection on the complexities of urban life.

Philip Larkin's connection to Hull played a central role in shaping his poetry, influencing both its themes and its tone. Through his evocative verse, Larkin invites readers to explore the landscapes of Hull and to ponder the broader questions of identity, belonging, and the human experience.

Church Going

Once I am sure there’s nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, and stone, And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff Up at the holy end; the small neat organ; And a tense, musty, unignorable silence, Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off My cycle-clips in awkward reverence, Move forward, run my hand around the font. From where I stand, the roof looks almost new – Cleaned, or restored? Someone would know: I don’t. Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce ‘Here endeth’ much more loudly than I’d meant. The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence, Reflect the place was not worth stopping for. Yet stop I did: in fact I often do, And always end much at a loss like this, Wondering what to look for; wondering, too, When churches fall completely out of use What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep A few cathedrals chronically on show, Their parchment, plate and pyx in locked cases, And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep. Shall we avoid them as unlucky places? Or, after dark, will dubious women come To make their children touch a particular stone; Pick simples for a cancer; or on some Advised night see walking a dead one? Power of some sort or other will go on In games, in riddles, seemingly at random; But superstition, like belief, must die, And what remains when disbelief has gone? Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky, A shape less recognisable each week, A purpose more obscure. I wonder who Will be the last, the very last, to seek This place for what it was; one of the crew That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were? Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique, Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh? Or will he be my representative, Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt So long and equably what since is found Only in separation – marriage, and birth, And death, and thoughts of these – for which was built This special shell? For, though I’ve no idea What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth, It pleases me to stand in silence here; A serious house on serious earth it is, In whose blent air all our compulsions meet, Are recognised, and robed as destinies. And that much never can be obsolete, Since someone will forever be surprising A hunger in himself to be more serious, And gravitating with it to this ground, Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in, If only that so many dead lie round.

Elizabeth Jennings is known for her introspective and lyrical poetry that often explores themes of love, spirituality, and the human condition. Elements of suburban life occasionally appear in her work, reflecting the broader spectrum of human experience.

In some of her poems, Jennings may touch upon suburban themes, such as domesticity, community, and the search for meaning within the rhythms of everyday life. She explores the quiet streets, gardens, and interiors of suburban homes, offering glimpses into the intimate moments and emotions of suburban existence.

Jennings' poetry is characterized by its clarity, emotional depth, and keen observation of the world around her. She has a talent for capturing the nuances of human relationships and the complexities of inner experience, whether it's in the context of suburban landscapes or the broader sweep of history.

Jennings' poetry frequently explores themes of domesticity, relationships, and the everyday, including suburban life. Poems like "Delay" and "Song at the Beginning of Autumn" offer meditations on the passing of time and the transient nature of suburban landscapes.

While Jennings' body of work encompasses a wide range of subjects and settings, her poetry often resonates with readers by offering insights into the joys and struggles of contemporary existence. Through her evocative language and empathetic voice, Jennings invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the ordinary moments of suburban life.

Ted Hughes is only loosely associated with suburban poetry, as his work often delves into broader themes such as nature, mythology, and the human psyche. However, elements of suburban life occasionally appear in his poetry, albeit as part of larger explorations of human experience and the natural world.

In some of his poems, Hughes touches upon suburban themes, such as domesticity, alienation, and the impact of modernity on the natural and built environment. He explores the tensions between urban and rural landscapes, reflecting on the ways in which they intersect and interact within the context of contemporary society.

Hughes' poetry is characterized by its raw energy, vivid imagery, and intense emotional depth. He has a talent for capturing the power and beauty of the natural world, whether it's in the form of suburban gardens, city streets, or wild landscapes. While Hughes is perhaps best known for his nature poetry, his work also touches upon suburban life and landscapes. Poems like "Six Young Men" and "" reflect on the impact of modernity and urbanization on rural and suburban spaces.

His poetry remains celebrated for its exploration of the human condition and its engagement with the complexities of modern life. Through his evocative verse, Hughes invites readers to ponder the mysteries of existence and to find meaning in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

Six Young Men

 The celluloid of a photograph holds them well –

Six young men, familiar to their friends.

Four decades that have faded and ochre-tinged

This photograph have not wrinkled the faces or the hands.

Though their cocked hats are not now fashionable,

Their shoes shine. One imparts an intimate smile,

One chews a grass, one lowers his eyes, bashful,

One is ridiculous with cocky pride –

Six months after this picture they were all dead.

All are trimmed for a Sunday jaunt. I know

That bilberried bank, that thick tree, that black wall,

Which are there yet and not changed. From where these sit

You hear the water of seven streams fall

To the roarer in the bottom, and through all

The leafy valley a rumouring of air go.

Pictured here, their expressions listen yet,

And still that valley has not changed its sound

Though their faces are four decades under the ground.

This one was shot in an attack and lay

Calling in the wire, then this one, his best friend,

Went out to bring him in and was shot too;

And this one, the very moment he was warned

From potting at tin-cans in no-man’s land,

Fell back dead with his rifle-sights shot away.

The rest, nobody knows what they came to,

But come to the worst they must have done, and held it

Closer than their hope; all were killed.

Here see a man’s photograph,

The locket of a smile, turned overnight

Into the hospital of his mangled last

Agony and hours; see bundled in it

His mightier-than-a-man dead bulk and weight:

And on this one place which keeps him alive

(In his Sunday best) see fall war’s worst

Thinkable flash and rending, onto his smile

Forty years rotting into soil.

That man’s not more alive whom you confront

And shake by the hand, see hale, hear speak loud,

Than any of these six celluloid smiles are,

Nor prehistoric or, fabulous beast more dead;

No thought so vivid as their smoking-blood:

To regard this photograph might well dement,

Such contradictory permanent horrors here

Smile from the single exposure and shoulder out

One´s own body from its instant and heat.

Fleur Adcock, a celebrated New Zealand-born poet, is known for her keen observations of the world around her, which often includes suburban landscapes and experiences.

In some of her poems, Adcock incorporates suburban themes as part of broader explorations of human relationships, memory, and identity. She explores the quiet streets, gardens, and interiors of suburban homes, offering insights into the rhythms and nuances of everyday life. Adcock's poetry is characterized by its clarity, precision, and emotional resonance. She has a talent for capturing the subtleties of human emotion and the complexities of interpersonal dynamics, whether it's in the context of suburban landscapes or the broader sweep of history.

While Adcock's body of work encompasses a wide range of subjects and settings, her poetry often resonates with readers by offering glimpses into the joys and struggles of contemporary existence, including suburban life. Through her evocative language and empathetic voice, Adcock invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the ordinary moments of suburban life.

Fleur Adcock's poetry often explores a variety of places and landscapes, both in her native New Zealand and in her adopted home of England. Some of the places she describes in her poetry include:

1. New Zealand: Adcock frequently draws upon her experiences of her homeland, capturing the rugged beauty of the New Zealand landscape. She often references its mountains, rivers, forests, and coastlines, evoking a sense of nostalgia and connection to her roots.
2. England: Having spent much of her life in England, Adcock's poetry also reflects her experiences of the English landscape. She describes the English countryside, with its rolling hills, meadows, and hedgerows, as well as the urban environments of cities like London, with their bustling streets and historic landmarks.
3. Other coutries: Adcock's travels and experiences living abroad have also influenced her poetry. She describes various countries and cultures she has encountered, offering observations on their landscapes, people, and customs.

Poems like "The Ex-Queen Among the Astronomers" and "Things" offer insights into suburban landscapes and the lives of its inhabitants. Fleur Adcock's poetry reflects a deep engagement with place and landscape, drawing upon her experiences of different environments to explore themes of identity, memory, and belonging. Through her evocative language and keen observation, she invites readers to journey with her through the diverse landscapes of her life and imagination.

The Ex-Queen among the Astronomers (1979)

They serve revolving saucer eyes, dishes of stars; they wait upon huge lenses hung aloft to frame the slow procession of the skies. They calculate, adjust, record, watch transits, measure distances. They carry pocket telescopes to spy through when they walk abroad. Spectra possess their eyes; they face upwards, alert for meteorites, cherishing little glassy worlds; receptacles for outer space. But she, exile, expelled, ex-queen, swishes among the men of science waiting for cloudy skies, for nights when constellations can’t be seen. She wears the rings he let her keep; she walks as she was taught to walk for his approval, years ago. His bitter features taunt her sleep. And so when these have laid aside their telescopes, when lids are closed between machine and sky, she seeks terrestrial bodies to bestride. She plucks this one or that among the astronomers, and is become his canopy, his occultation; she sucks at earlobe, penis, tongue mouthing the tubes of flesh; her hair crackles, her eyes are comet-sparks. She brings the distant briefly close above his dreamy abstract stare.

Poem © By kind permission of Bloodaxe Books

Tony Harrison is often associated with a more urban and working-class aesthetic. His poetry frequently engages with themes of social class, identity, and the decline of industrial communities.

In some of his poems, Harrison touches upon suburban themes, such as the alienation and disillusionment experienced by individuals living in post-industrial landscapes. He explores the tensions between urban and suburban environments, reflecting on the ways in which they intersect and interact within the context of contemporary society.

Harrison's poetry is characterized by its raw emotion, linguistic inventiveness, and socio-political commentary. He has a talent for capturing the complexities of human experience, whether it's in the form of suburban streets, industrial landscapes, or the cultural heritage of his native Yorkshire.

: Harrison's poetry often combines personal reflection with social commentary, including observations on suburban environments. Poems like "V" and "The School of Eloquence" offer insights into the cultural and political dimensions of suburban life.

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Roger McGough is known for his witty, accessible, and often humorous poetry that explores a wide range of themes, including everyday life, love, and human relationships. In some of his poems, McGough incorporates suburban settings as part of broader explorations of modern life and society. He playfully explores the quirks and idiosyncrasies of suburban environments, reflecting on the mundane yet profound moments of suburban existence.

Roger McGough is associated with the Liverpool poets, a group of poets from Liverpool, England, who emerged in the 1960s and were known for their distinctive style, wit, and engagement with everyday language and experiences. Alongside Adrian Henri and Brian Patten, McGough was one of the key figures of the Liverpool poets movement.

The Liverpool poets rebelled against the formalism and elitism of traditional poetry, instead embracing a more accessible and democratic approach to poetry that reflected the rhythms and language of everyday life. They often performed their work in public spaces, such as pubs and clubs, making poetry more accessible to a wider audience.

McGough's poetry, like that of the other Liverpool poets, is characterized by its humor, wordplay, and keen observations of the world around him. He often incorporates elements of Liverpool's culture, history, and landscape into his work, celebrating the city's vibrant spirit and sense of community.

While the Liverpool poets movement may not have focused specifically on suburban themes, their poetry reflects the broader spectrum of human experience, encompassing themes such as love, politics, and social commentary. Through their accessible and engaging poetry, the Liverpool poets left a lasting impact on the British poetry scene and continue to be celebrated for their contributions to contemporary poetry.

McGough's poetry often combines humor with social commentary, including reflections on suburban life. Poems like "Let Me Die a Youngman's Death" and "Survival Tactics" offer wry observations on contemporary society, including suburban culture

He has a talent for capturing the absurdities of everyday life, whether it's in the bustling streets of the city or the quiet cul-de-sacs of suburbia. Through his playful language and sharp wit, McGough invites readers to see the humor and humanity in the ordinary moments of suburban life.

Hugo Williams is a contemporary English poet whose work often touches upon themes of domesticity, family life, and the complexities of modern existence.He offers insights into the intimate and often mundane aspects of suburban existence.

In some of his poems, Williams delves into the quiet rhythms and everyday routines of suburban life, capturing moments of intimacy, reflection, and longing within the context of suburban landscapes. He explores themes such as the passage of time, the complexities of human relationships, and the search for meaning amidst the familiar surroundings of suburban homes and neighborhoods.

Williams' poetry is characterized by its understated elegance, emotional depth, and keen observation of the world around him. He has a talent for capturing the subtle nuances of human experience, whether it's in the form of suburban streets, gardens, or domestic interiors.

His poetry often resonates with readers by offering glimpses into the joys and struggles of contemporary suburban life. Through his evocative language and introspective voice, Williams invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the ordinary moments of suburban existence, finding poetry in the quiet corners of everyday life.

Williams' poetry frequently explores themes of memory, identity, and place. Poems like "Dock Leaves" and "Thirteen Small Poems About a Suburban Childhood" offer reflections on the formative experiences of suburban upbringing.

Selima Hill is known for her innovative and often surreal poetry, is not typically associated with suburban poetry. Her work tends to delve into themes of personal experience, memory, and the subconscious, often with a focus on domestic and familial relationships. While her poetry may occasionally touch upon suburban settings or themes, it is usually within the context of broader explorations of human emotion and psychology.

Hill's poetry is characterized by its vivid imagery, fragmented narratives, and unconventional use of language. She often explores the complexities of the inner world, delving into the subconscious mind and the intricacies of human consciousness. Hill's poetry frequently combines surreal imagery with personal narrative, including reflections on suburban life. Poems like "The Lighted Window" and "The Blue Suit" offer glimpses into the inner lives of suburban inhabitants.

Making for Open Country

I step into the autumn morning like a first Communicant and ride off down the lane, singing. Across the frosty fields someone is mending fences knock knock knock and a twig that’s caught in my bicycle spokes tinkles like a musical box. The village smells of wood-ash and warm horses. Shining crows rise into the sky like hymns …

I have to pass the church where my father was buried. It’s a wonderful church. The Christ in the chancel is carved by Eric Gill. There are guidebooks in the nave, and every day the villagers come to put fresh flowers on the graves. My father’s is under the yew tree by the wall. I look at it out of the corner of my eye as I go cycling past, making for open country …

We didn’t go this way after the funeral – my mother and me, and my sad unfamiliar aunts crying and crying for their lost brother. In hired cars, we went straight home, where some kind person had made us tea and tiny sandwiches. They were like pocket handkerchiefs. Pat, pat, pat … My father used to dry my tears like that.

Published in London Review of Books  Vol. 6 No. 13 · 19 July 1984 

Liz Lochhead, the renowned Scottish poet and playwright. Between 2011 and 2016 she was the  Makar , or National Poet of Scotland, and served as  Poet Laureate  for Glasgow between 2005 and 2011. She commonly writes about broader themes such as identity, gender, and social issues. However, elements of suburban life occasionally appear in her poetry, particularly in her exploration of everyday experiences and domestic settings.

In some of her poems, Lochhead may touch upon suburban themes, such as family dynamics, the passage of time, and the complexities of modern life. She might explore the rituals and routines of suburban existence, offering insights into the joys and struggles of everyday life within suburban landscapes.

Lochhead's poetry is characterized by its wit, humor, and keen observation of the world around her. She has a talent for capturing the nuances of human relationships and the intricacies of interpersonal dynamics, whether it's within the context of suburban households or the broader sweep of society.

Liz Lochhead has a deep connection to Glasgow, the city of her birth and upbringing. Throughout her body of work, Glasgow features prominently as both a setting and a source of inspiration for Lochhead's poetry.

In many of her poems, Lochhead vividly captures the essence of Glasgow, depicting its streets, neighborhoods, and inhabitants with affection, wit, and keen observation. She often explores the city's vibrant culture, rich history, and unique character, offering insights into the complexities of urban life in Glasgow.

Lochhead's poetry is characterized by its linguistic inventiveness, sharp humor, and empathy for her subjects. She has a talent for capturing the rhythms and cadences of Glasgow's distinctive dialect, infusing her verse with the vitality and energy of the city.

Lochhead's poetry encompasses a wide range of themes, including reflections on family life and domesticity within suburban settings. Poems like "Revelation" and "The Choosing" offer insights into the complexities of relationships and identity within the context of suburban environments.

 German audio recording 

Grace Nichols, the Guyanese-British poet, often explores themes related to identity, Caribbean culture, and the immigrant experience in Britain. However, elements of suburban life occasionally appear in her poetry, particularly in her reflections on migration, diaspora, and the complexities of urban living.

In some of her poems, Nichols may touch upon suburban themes, such as the challenges of adapting to a new environment, the sense of displacement experienced by immigrants, and the search for belonging within urban landscapes. She is interested in exploring the cultural and social dynamics of suburban neighborhoods, offering insights into the tensions and opportunities that arise within diverse communities.

Nichols' poetry is characterized by its vivid imagery, rhythmic language, and deep sense of empathy. She has a talent for capturing the voices and experiences of marginalized communities, whether it's within the context of suburban environments or the broader context of British society.

Nichols' poetry often draws on her experiences of migration and cultural identity, including reflections on suburban life in Britain. Poems like "The Fat Black Woman Goes Shopping" and "Island Man" offer insights into the intersection of Caribbean heritage and suburban landscapes.

While Nichols' body of work may not revolve exclusively around suburban themes, her poetry offers a powerful and nuanced exploration of the immigrant experience in Britain. Through her evocative language and empathetic storytelling, Nichols invites readers to see the beauty and resilience of immigrant communities, finding strength and solidarity amidst the complexities of urban life.

Although originally from Northern Ireland, Muldoon's poetry often reflects on suburban life in England and the United States. Poems like "Meeting the British" and "Incantata" offer glimpses into the intersections of personal and cultural identity within suburban landscapes.

Raised on a farm in County Armagh, nestled outside The Moy near the boundary with County Tyrone, Northern Ireland, Paul Muldoon's upbringing was deeply rooted in the rural landscape of his homeland. His father's occupation as a farmer, coupled with his mother's role as a schoolmistress, provided a foundation for Muldoon's early years. Reflecting on his childhood in 2001, Muldoon described The Moy as a place of enduring beauty, etched into his memory despite having left for university three decades prior.

While acknowledging the natural splendor of his surroundings, Muldoon also recounted the political and social complexities that shaped daily life in the region. Although his family maintained a non-political stance, the backdrop of patrols, army presence, and sectarian tensions was palpable. The Moy stood as a nationalist enclave amidst a landscape marked by a sectarian divide, with the nearby parish serving as the birthplace of the Orange Order. The drumbeats of summer evenings served as a reminder of the contrasting communities coexisting in proximity.

He said about his native countryside: "It's a beautiful part of the world. It's still the place that's 'burned into the retina', and although I haven't been back there since I left for university 30 years ago, it's the place I consider to be my home. We were a fairly non-political household; my parents were nationalists, of course, but it was not something, as I recall, that was a major area of discussion. But there were patrols; an army presence; movements of troops; and a sectarian divide. And that particular area was a nationalist enclave, while next door was the parish where the  Orange Order  was founded; we'd hear the drums on summer evenings. But I think my mother, in particular, may have tried to shelter us from it all. Besides, we didn't really socialise a great deal. We were 'blow-ins' – arrivistes – new to the area, and didn't have a lot of connections" ( The Guardian Profile The poet at play , 12 May 2001.)

Despite the backdrop of political unrest, Muldoon's family sought to shield him and his siblings from the full extent of the turmoil. Their relative isolation as newcomers, or "blow-ins," tempered their social interactions and connections within the community. Nevertheless, The Moy remained a place of profound significance to Muldoon, a place he fondly considered home despite the passage of time and distance.

In Muldoon's recollections, the juxtaposition of pastoral tranquility and political tension underscores the complexity of Northern Ireland's landscape, offering insights into his personal and poetic journey shaped by the interplay of place, memory, and identity.

Meeting the British (1987)

We met the British in the dead of winter. The sky was lavender and the snow lavender-blue. I could hear, far below, the sound of two streams coming together (both were frozen over) and, no less strange, myself calling out in French across that forest- clearing. Neither General Jeffrey Amherst nor Colonel Henry Bouquet could stomach our willow-tobacco. As for the unusual scent when the Colonel shook out his hand- kerchief: C'est la lavande, une fleur mauve comme le ciel. They gave us six fishhooks and two blankets embroidered with smallpox.

Poem © 2001 by Paul Muldoon. Source: Poems:1968-1998 by Paul Muldoon. By permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC.

Image © Norman McBeath / National Portrait Gallery, London, bromide print, 1 November 1999

In some of her poems, Helen Dunmore touches upon suburban themes such as domesticity, family dynamics, and the passage of time. She explores the quiet streets, gardens, and interiors of suburban homes, offering glimpses into the intimacy and complexities of everyday life.

Dunmore's poetry is characterized by its emotional depth, lyrical language, and keen observation of the world around her. She has a talent for capturing the subtleties of human emotion and the intricacies of interpersonal relationships, whether it's within the context of suburban landscapes or the broader sweep of history.

While Dunmore's body of work encompasses a wide range of subjects and settings, her poetry often resonates with readers by offering insights into the joys and struggles of contemporary existence, including suburban life. Through her evocative language and empathetic voice, Dunmore invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the ordinary moments of suburban life. Poems like "Glad of These Times" and "To My Nine-Year-Old Self" offer meditations on memory, childhood, and the passage of time.

To My Nine-Year-Old Self

You must forgive me. Don't look so surprised,

perplexed , and eager to be gone

balancing on your hands or on the tightrope

You would rather run than walk, rather climb than run

rather leap from a height than anything.

I have spoiled this body we once shared.

Look at the scars, and watch the way I move,

careful of a bad back or a bruised foot.

Do you remember how, three minutes after waking

we'd jump straight out of the ground floor window

into the summer morning

That dream we had, no doubt it's as fresh in your mind

as the white paper to write it on.

We made a start, but something else came up -

a baby vole, or a bag of sherbet lemons -

and besides that summer of ambition

created an ice-lolly factory, a wasp trap

and a den by a cesspit

I'd like to say we could be friends

but the truth is we have nothing in common

beyond a few shared years. I won't keep you then.

Time to pick rosehips for tuppence a pound,

time to hide down scared lanes

from men in cars after girl-children

or to lunge out over the water

on the rope that swings from that tree

long buried in housing -

But no, I shan't cloud your morning. God knows

I have fears enough for us both -

I leave you in an ecstasy of concentration

slowly peeling a ripe scab from your knee

to taste it on your tongue.

On circuit from Heptonstall Chapel On circuit from Heptonstall Chapel  

‘'Tis not everyone could bear these things, but I bless God, my wife is less concerned with suffering them than I in writing them.’

 (Samuel Wesley, father of John Wesley, writing of his wife Susanna.)

  1  The mare with her short legs heavily mud-caked

 2  plods, her head down

 3  over the unearthly grasses,

 4  the burning salt-marshes,

 5  through sharp-sided marram and mace

 6  with the rim of the tide's eyelid

 7  out to the right.

 8  The reed-cutters go home

 9  whistling sharply, crab-wise

 10  beneath their dense burdens,

 11  the man on the mare weighs heavy, his broadcloth

 12  shiny and worn, his boots dangling

 13  six inches from ground.

 14  He clenches his buttocks to ease them,

 15  shifts Bible and meat,

 16  thinks of the congregation

 17  gathered beyond town,

 18  wind-whipped, looking for warm

 19  words from his dazed lips.

 20  No brand from the burning;

 21  a thick man with a day's travel

 22  caked on him like salt,

 23  a preacher, one of those scattered like thistle

 24  from the many-angled home chapel

 25  facing all ways on its slabbed upland.

©Copyright material reproduced under licence from Bloodaxe Books Ltd

‘'Tis not everyone could bear these things, but I bless God, my wife is less concerned with suffering them than I in writing them.’

Philip Gross, the award-winning Welsh poet, often explores a diverse range of themes in his poetry, including nature, memory, identity, and the human condition. His work, reflecting the broader scope of his exploration of human experience.

In some of his poems, Gross touches upon suburban themes such as domesticity, community dynamics, and the intersection of human lives within suburban environments. He delves into the rhythms and nuances of suburban existence, offering insights into the complexities of everyday life and relationships.

Gross' poetry is characterized by its rich imagery, linguistic precision, and emotional depth. He has a talent for capturing the subtle nuances of human experience and the intricacies of interpersonal relationships, whether it's within the context of suburban landscapes or the broader canvas of the natural world. His poetry often resonates with readers by offering glimpses into the beauty and significance of ordinary moments in suburban life. Through his evocative language and empathetic portrayal of human emotions, Gross invites readers to see the extraordinary within the ordinary, finding poetry in the quiet corners of suburban existence.

Poems like "Mappa Mundi" and "Deep Field" offer reflections on the intersection of the personal and the geographical within suburban spaces.

The Duke of Nowhere

He was living incognito but his secret was safe with me. I was the solitary heir to everything he never once mentioned. I guessed from his brooding, his whole silent days, it must be vast. The lost estates grew vaster in the weeks, then months, he went away and stayed.

I was the son of the Duke of Nowhere. Nowhere was home.  The first sound I remember was engines sawing steam, the butt and squeal of wagons full of clunk shunted cruelly. Lifted to the window sill I had my first sight of our exile as I thought: Here, me, watching . . . There, trains going away . . .

Beyond the roofs, beyond the dockyard wall were cranes, then the edge of the world. On a clear day I could watch grey frigates climb it and slip over. I woke one night to singing in the streets that suddenly grew small as all the hooters of the fleet brawled up together, blurting Home . . . as if any such place existed, over the horizon, anywhere.© 1991, Philip Gross From: Changes of Address: Poems 1980-1998 Publisher: Bloodaxe, TarsetPublished with kind permission of the author and Bloodaxe.

Severn Song

 German audio recording 

Andrew Motion, the former Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom, occassionally reflects elements of suburban life. In some of his poems, Motion touches upon suburban themes such as domesticity, family dynamics, and the passage of time within suburban landscapes. He explores the rhythms and nuances of everyday life in suburban settings, offering insights into the joys and struggles of contemporary existence.

Motion's poetry is characterized by its clarity, emotional depth, and keen observation of the world around him. He has a talent for capturing the subtleties of human emotion and the complexities of interpersonal relationships, whether it's within the context of suburban environments or the broader sweep of history.

In 2012, he became President of the  Campaign to Protect Rural England .

Motion's poetry frequently draws on his experiences of growing up in suburban England, offering reflections on memory, family, and place. Poems like "The Mower" and the collection Inland evoke the atmosphere and character of suburban environments.

THE MOWER by Andrew Motion

With storm-light in the east but no rain yet I came in from mowing my square of lawn and paused in the doorway to glance around at my handiwork and the feckless apple blossom

blurring those trim stripes and Hovver-sweeps I had meant to last. What I saw instead was you in threadbare cords, catching the sunny interval between showers, trundling the Ransome out

from its corner in the woodshed. The dizzy whiff of elm-chips and oil. Joke-shop spider-threads greying the rubber handles. Gravel pips squeaking as the roller squashed through the yard. Then a hush

like the pause before thunder while you performed your ritual of muffled curses and forehead-wipes, your tugs on the glistening string starter-cable, more curses, more furious yanks, until at long last

the engine sulked, got over it, sighed a grey cloud speckled with petrol-bits, and wobbled into a roar. Off came the brake, and off charged the machine, dragging you down to the blazing Tree of Heaven

at the garden end, where the trick was to reverse

from the way your whole body lurched lopsided on the turn this was less than a hundred percent true. Getting the job finished was all we ever wanted, parked with our cricket things and happy enough

to wait, since experience had taught us that after you’d unhooked the big green metal grass-basket splodged with its Royal Appointment transfer, lugged it off to the smoking heap by the compost,

thumped it empty, then re-appeared to give us the thumbs up, we were allowed to burst suddenly out like dogs into the sweet air, measure the pitch between our studious stump-plantings, toss to see

who went in first, then wait for you to turn up again from the woodshed where you had taken five minutes to wipe the blades down, and switch the petrol off, and polish the grass-bucket although it never would

shine up much, being what you called venerable. You always did come back, that was the thing. As you also come back now in the week you died, just missing the first thick gusts of rain and the last

Andrew Motion was Britain’s Poet Laureate from 1999 to 2009. “The Mower” was first published in the Times Literary Supplement (TLS) on May 4, 2007. 

While Andrew Motion may not be exclusively associated with suburban poetry, his work reflects a deep engagement with the complexities of human experience, which occasionally includes themes related to suburban landscapes and environments. His poetry continues to be celebrated for its emotional resonance, lyrical beauty, and profound insight into the human condition.

Jo Shapcott, a prominent contemporary British poet, is known for her inventive use of language, playful wit, and exploration of a wide range of themes, including love, identity, science, and the natural world.

Shapcott's poetry is characterized by its vivid imagery, linguistic precision, and emotional depth. She has a talent for capturing the nuances of human experience and the intricacies of interpersonal relationships, whether it's within the context of suburban landscapes or the broader canvas of the natural world.

While Shapcott's body of work encompasses a wide range of subjects and settings, her poetry often resonates with readers by offering glimpses into the beauty and significance of ordinary moments in suburban life. Through her evocative language and empathetic portrayal of human emotions, Shapcott invites readers to see the extraordinary within the ordinary, finding poetry in the quiet corners of suburban existence.

Shapcott's poetry encompasses a wide range of themes, including reflections on urban and suburban landscapes. Poems in Phrase Book and Mother's Milk offer meditations on language, identity, and the everyday within suburban environments.

 German audio recording 

Moniza Alvi, who was born in Lahore, Pakistan, in 1954, the daughter of an English mother and a Pakistani father. Her family left for Britain when she was just a few months old, and she grew up in Hertfordshire, only returning to Pakistan in the mid-90s, after publishing her first book of poems, The Country at My Shoulder (1993). In this book and in her second collection, A Bowl of Warm Air (1996), she drew on real and imagined homelands in poems which are ‘vivid, witty and imbued with unexpected and delicious glimpses of the surreal – this poet’s third country’ (Maura Dooley).

Alvi is known for her exploration of themes related to identity, belonging, cultural heritage, and the immigrant experience.

In some of her poems, Alvi plunges into suburban themes such as domesticity, family dynamics, and the intersection of different cultures within suburban environments. She explores the tensions and harmonies that arise within suburban neighborhoods, offering insights into the complexities of modern multicultural society.

Alvi's poetry is characterized by its lyrical language, evocative imagery, and emotional depth. She has a talent for capturing the nuances of human experience and the complexities of cultural identity, whether it's within the context of suburban landscapes or the broader canvas of global migration.

Alvi's poetry draws on her experiences of cultural hybridity and displacement, including reflections on suburban life in Britain. Poems like "Presents from my Aunts in Pakistan" and "The Country at My Shoulder" offer meditations on memory, belonging, and cultural heritage.

Presents From My Aunts In Pakistan

They sent me a salwar kameez       &nb sp;     peacock-blue,                  & nbsp; and another    glistening like an orange split open, embossed slippers, gold and black       &nbs p;     points curling.    Candy-striped glass bangles       &n bsp;     snapped, drew blood.    Like at school, fashions changed       &n bsp;     in Pakistan - the salwar bottoms were broad and stiff,       &nb sp;     then narrow. My aunts chose an apple-green sari,    silver-bordered                                  for my teens. I tried each satin-silken top -    was alien in the sitting-room. I could never be as lovely       &nb sp;     as those clothes -    I longed for denim and corduroy.    My costume clung to me                                         and I was aflame, I couldn't rise up out of its fire,    half-English, &nbsp ;            unlike Aunt Jamila. I wanted my parents' camel-skin lamp -    switching it on in my bedroom, to consider the cruelty       &n bsp;     and the transformation from camel to shade,    marvel at the colours                                          like stained glass. My mother cherished her jewellery -    Indian gold, dangling, filigree,              But it was stolen from our car. The presents were radiant in my wardrobe.    My aunts requested cardigans              from Marks and Spencers. My salwar kameez    didn't impress the schoolfriend who sat on my bed, asked to see    my weekend clothes. But often I admired the mirror-work,    tried to glimpse myself                                     in the miniature glass circles, recall the story    how the three of us        & nbsp;    sailed to England. Prickly heat had me screaming on the way.    I ended up in a cot In my English grandmother's dining-room,    found myself alone,                                      playing with a tin-boat. I pictured my birthplace    from fifties' photographs.      &nb sp;      When I was older there was conflict, a fractured land    throbbing through newsprint. Sometimes I saw Lahore -                                my aunts in shaded rooms, screened from male visitors,    sorting presents,           wrapping them in tissue. Or there were beggars, sweeper-girls    and I was there -        &n bsp;    of no fixed nationality, staring through fretwork          at the Shalimar Gardens.

Robin Robertson, a Scottish poet, is known for his evocative and often darkly atmospheric poetry. While his work doesn't exclusively focus on suburban themes, he does explore various landscapes and environments, including urban and suburban settings, with a keen eye for detail and emotion.

Robertson's poetry often evokes a sense of place and atmosphere, including suburban settings and urban decay. Collections such as Hill of Doors, The Painted Field, and The Long Take offer vivid depictions of suburban landscapes and the lives of its inhabitants.

In Robertson's poetry, suburban landscapes may appear as part of broader explorations of human experiences, emotions, and relationships. He often delves into the complexities of everyday life, capturing moments of beauty, despair, and longing that can be found in suburban environments.

One of the themes that frequently appears in Robertson's work is the tension between the natural world and human civilization, which could be relevant to suburban settings where nature intersects with human development.

Although Robertson's poetry may not directly center on suburban life in the same way as some other poets, his nuanced exploration of place, memory, and emotion may resonate with readers who are interested in the intricacies of suburban existence.

If you're interested in exploring Robin Robertson's poetry further, I recommend starting with collections such as "The Long Take" or "Hill of Doors," where you can experience his rich imagery and poignant reflections on the human condition across various landscapes, including suburban ones.

 Robertson tells of the desire to reveal “the refreshed world and, through a language thick with sound and connotation and metaphor, make some sense: some new connection between what is seen and felt and what is understood” and he wants “history, legend and myth [merge] cohesively in the landscape.”  (Source:  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robin-robertson )

BY  ROBIN ROBERTSON 

For Andrew O’Hagan

Three moons in the sky the night they found him drowned in Sawtan’s Bog; just his cap, sitting there and his wee fat hands poking out. It was no loss to the village, I told them next morning, and the villagers agreed. Horn-daft, he was, havering and glaikit and scaring the children. I mind that time he picked up a mouse and ate it, quick, in two mouthfuls; set the tail aside on the ground like a cocktail stick. I used her well, after that, his Jennie, still in her widow’s weeds, gilping into her whenever I could, in the barn or the boathouse or off in the fields. She slipped two or three out at least, and sank each one in a lobster creel. Her head was away by the end, as mad as her man and no good to me. She sleeps now under Beinn Ruadhainn, her face covered in ivy, scab, and sticky-willow. The dreams came then. Last night, the burning loch, so full of bairns they bobbed to the surface with their hair on fire; black snow; fingers coming through the floorboards; rain like razor blades; the foosty-faced man, there at every corner, hands furred with grey-mould. And her, as always, star-naked, hatching in the herring-nets. The last I remember was my body being driven with sticks through the town to Sawtan’s Brae, and hanged. I broke from sleep and sat up sweating, dream-fleyed in the dark. I groped around for the matches and the matches were put in my hand. Notes: Beinn Ruadhainn: (Gaelic) “summit of the red place”—“Ruadhainn” pronounced “riven,” anglicised as “Ruthven”; horn-daft: quite mad; havering: babbling, speaking nonsense; glaikit: vacant, idiotic; gilping: spurting, spilling; foosty: mouldy, gone bad; fleyed: frightened.Source: Poetry (September 2011)

Carol Ann Duffy's poetry encompasses a wide range of locations, both real and imagined, reflecting the diversity of human experience and the interconnectedness of the world. While she is not exclusively associated with any specific location, her work often explores the landscapes and settings that shape our lives and identities. Here are a few examples of locations that appear in Duffy's poetry:

1. Britain: Duffy frequently draws upon the landscapes and cultures of Britain in her poetry, reflecting her own experiences and heritage. She explores both urban and rural environments, capturing the richness and complexity of British life.

2. Cities: Many of Duffy's poems are set in cities, both in Britain and beyond. She offers vivid portrayals of urban landscapes, with their bustling streets, towering skyscrapers, and diverse populations. Cities such as London, Glasgow, and New York feature prominently in her work.

3. Nature: Nature plays a significant role in Duffy's poetry, with settings ranging from tranquil countryside scenes to rugged coastlines and wild forests. She celebrates the beauty and power of the natural world, exploring themes of change, renewal, and interconnectedness.

4. Historical Settings: Duffy often incorporates historical settings and events into her poetry, transporting readers to different time periods and cultures. From ancient civilizations to more recent historical moments, she explores the impact of history on the present.

5. Imaginary Worlds: In addition to real-world locations, Duffy also creates imaginary worlds and settings in her poetry. These fantastical landscapes offer readers a glimpse into the realm of imagination and possibility.

Duffy's poetry often explores contemporary life and societal issues, including suburban landscapes. Poems like "Mrs Midas" and "Sub" touch upon suburban experiences, relationships, and the complexities of domestic life.

Mrs Midas

It was late September. I’d just poured a glass of wine, begun to unwind, while the vegetables cooked. The kitchen filled with the smell of itself, relaxed, its steamy breath gently blanching the windows. So I opened one, then with my fingers wiped the other’s glass like a brow. He was standing under the pear tree snapping a twig.

Now the garden was long and the visibility poor, the way the dark of the ground seems to drink the light of the sky, but that twig in his hand was gold. And then he plucked a pear from a branch. – we grew Fondante d’Automne – and it sat in his palm, like a lightbulb. On. I thought to myself, Is he putting fairy lights in the tree?

He came into the house. The doorknobs gleamed. He drew the blinds. You know the mind; I thought of the Field of the Cloth of Gold and of Miss Macready. He sat in that chair like a king on a burnished throne. The look on his face was strange, wild, vain. I said, What in the name of God is going on? He started to laugh.

I served up the meal. For starters, corn on the cob. Within seconds he was spitting out the teeth of the rich. He toyed with his spoon, then mine, then with the knives, the forks. He asked where was the wine. I poured with a shaking hand, a fragrant, bone-dry white from Italy, then watched as he picked up the glass, goblet, golden chalice, drank.

It was then that I started to scream. He sank to his knees. After we’d both calmed down, I finished the wine on my own, hearing him out. I made him sit on the other side of the room and keep his hands to himself. I locked the cat in the cellar. I moved the phone. The toilet I didn’t mind. I couldn’t believe my ears:

how he’d had a wish. Look, we all have wishes; granted. But who has wishes granted? Him. Do you know about gold? It feeds no one; aurum, soft, untarnishable; slakes no thirst. He tried to light a cigarette; I gazed, entranced, as the blue flame played on its luteous stem. At least, I said, you’ll be able to give up smoking for good.

Separate beds. in fact, I put a chair against my door, near petrified. He was below, turning the spare room into the tomb of Tutankhamun. You see, we were passionate then, in those halcyon days; unwrapping each other, rapidly, like presents, fast food. But now I feared his honeyed embrace, the kiss that would turn my lips to a work of art.

And who, when it comes to the crunch, can live with a heart of gold? That night, I dreamt I bore his child, its perfect ore limbs, its little tongue like a precious latch, its amber eyes holding their pupils like flies. My dream milk burned in my breasts. I woke to the streaming sun.

So he had to move out. We’d a caravan in the wilds, in a glade of its own. I drove him up under the cover of dark. He sat in the back. And then I came home, the woman who married the fool who wished for gold. At first, I visited, odd times, parking the car a good way off, then walking.

You knew you were getting close. Golden trout on the grass. One day, a hare hung from a larch, a beautiful lemon mistake. And then his footprints, glistening next to the river’s path. He was thin, delirious; hearing, he said, the music of Pan from the woods. Listen. That was the last straw.

What gets me now is not the idiocy or greed but lack of thought for me. Pure selfishness. I sold the contents of the house and came down here. I think of him in certain lights, dawn, late afternoon, and once a bowl of apples stopped me dead. I miss most, even now, his hands, his warm hands on my skin, his touch.

From New Selected Poems 1984-2004  (Picador, 2004). Originally published in The World’s Wife (Macmillan, 1999). Reproduced by kind permission of the author

 German audio recording 

Zephaniah's poetry often addresses social and political issues, including observations on urban and suburban environments. Poem like "Dis Poetry" offer reflections on the diversity and complexity of contemporary suburban life. While Benjamin Zephaniah is known for his socially conscious and politically charged poetry, his work does not specifically focus on suburban themes. Instead, his poetry often explores issues of race, identity, injustice, and equality, drawing from his experiences as a British-Jamaican poet and activist.

Zephaniah's poetry typically reflects urban environments and the struggles of marginalized communities within them. His writing is known for its directness, vibrant language, and ability to confront difficult subjects head-on.

However, Zephaniah's poetry does touch on broader themes of love, relationships, and human connection, which could resonate with experiences found in suburban settings. While he may not have a collection solely dedicated to suburban poetry, his body of work offers insights into the human experience that can transcend specific environments.

If interested in exploring Zephaniah's poetry further, it is recommended delving into collections such as The Dread Affair: Collected Poems or The Little Book of Vegan Poems, where you'll find a diverse range of themes and subjects that reflect his unique voice and perspective.

Dis Poetry

Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops

De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots

Dis poetry is designed fe rantin

Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,

Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep

Preaching follow me

Like yu is blind sheep,

Dis poetry is not Party Political

Not designed fe dose who are critical.

Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed

It gets into me dreadlocks

It lingers around me head

Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike

I've tried Shakespeare, respect due dere

But did is de stuff I like.

Dis poetry is not afraid of going ina book

Still dis poetry need ears fe hear an eyes fe hav a look

Dis poetry is Verbal Riddim, no big words involved

An if I hav a problem de riddim gets it solved,

I've tried to be more romantic, it does nu good for me

So I tek a Reggae Riddim an build me poetry,

I could try be more personal

But you've heard it all before,

Pages of written words not needed

Brain has many words in store,

Yu could call dis poetry Dub Ranting

De tongue plays a beat

De body starts skanking,

Dis poetry is quick an childish

Dis poetry is fe de wise an foolish,

Anybody can do it fe free,

Dis poetry is fe yu an me,

Don't stretch yu imagination

Dis poetry is fe de good of de Nation,

Chant,

In de morning

I chant

In de night

I chant

In de darkness

An under de spotlight,

I pass thru University

I pass thru Sociology

An den I got a dread degree

In Dreadfull Ghettology.

Dis poetry stays wid me when I run or walk

An when I am talking to meself in poetry I talk,

Dis poetry is wid me,

Below me an above,

Dis poetry's from inside me

It goes to yu

WID LUV.

 German audio recording 

Jackie Kay, a Scottish poet and writer, is known for her exploration of themes such as identity, family, and belonging, often drawing from her own experiences as a black Scottish woman who was adopted. While her work encompasses a wide range of subjects, including urban and rural settings, she has also touched upon suburban themes in some of her poems like "Threshold" and "Fiere" that offer intimate reflections on the complexities of cultural heritage and personal history.

Jackie Kay, a Scottish poet and writer, is known for her exploration of themes such as identity, family, and belonging, often drawing from her own experiences as a black Scottish woman who was adopted. While her work encompasses a wide range of subjects, including urban and rural settings, she has also touched upon suburban themes in some of her poems.

In Kay's poetry, suburban landscapes may serve as a backdrop for reflections on personal and cultural identity, as well as the dynamics of family and community. She often infuses her writing with a sense of intimacy and emotional depth, inviting readers to contemplate the complexities of everyday life.

One of the strengths of Kay's poetry is her ability to blend the personal and the political, shedding light on issues of race, gender, and sexuality within the context of suburban environments. Her keen observations and lyrical language capture the nuances of suburban existence, from quiet moments of introspection to encounters with prejudice and discrimination.

While Jackie Kay may not be exclusively known for suburban poetry, her body of work offers a rich and nuanced exploration of the human experience that can resonate with readers regardless of the setting. If you're interested in exploring her poetry further, I recommend starting with collections such as "The Adoption Papers" or "Red Dust Road," where you can immerse yourself in Kay's powerful and thought-provoking verse.

Castletown, Isle of Man

How strange the way old lovers move into the present, tense, and catch you off guard; you tell me when you were here last you'd taken the steam train to a place whose name you've forgotten, and found a tapas bar. Going to that island is like going back to the past. Once we would have drunk a glass of red together in the Garrison, or waved in unison at the mother and child in that back garden waving at this steam train. I see what you mean, I think to myself, I see what you mean, waving on my own to the time before I was born. These days we travel to the same places alone: first you, then me, to this small, half-way island. I pick up your scent round the narrow cobbled streets, the medieval castle grounds, through the Market Square: I stare at the dreamy boats coming into the harbour, then conjure you, my ex-lover, in the Old House of Keys: walking along the long and dimly-lit corridor, across the stone floor - candle in hand - to friendship carrying the low flame of the past, still flickering, just the same, into the present, to the place that has no satisfactory name.

 German audio recording 

Glyn Maxwell, a British poet and playwright, who was born in Welvyn Garden City in Hertfordshire, is known for his evocative and introspective poetry that often explores themes of memory, identity, and the passage of time. While Maxwell is not specifically known for suburban poetry, his work occasionally touches upon suburban themes and landscapes, offering nuanced reflections on the complexities of contemporary life.

In some of Maxwell's poems, suburban settings serve as backdrops for explorations of memory and personal history. He may depict quiet residential streets, backyard gardens, or mundane suburban scenes imbued with a sense of nostalgia and introspection. Through vivid imagery and lyrical language, Maxwell captures the ordinary moments of suburban life, inviting readers to contemplate the beauty and significance found within seemingly mundane surroundings.

Moreover, Maxwell's poetry often delves into the internal landscapes of his characters, exploring their inner thoughts, emotions, and existential questions. While the settings may vary, the themes of human experience and longing resonate deeply with readers, transcending specific geographical locations.

Maxwell's subtle and nuanced approach to poetry allows him to capture the essence of suburban life with sensitivity and depth. While not exclusively focused on suburban themes, his work offers glimpses into the intricacies of contemporary existence, where the suburban landscape serves as a canvas for exploring universal themes of love, loss, and longing.

While Glyn Maxwell may not be primarily associated with suburban poetry, his body of work contains moments where suburban landscapes and experiences are skillfully woven into the fabric of his poetry.

A Play of the Word

Something was done and she ran from a town and I'm glad it was done or she wouldn't have come, but she wouldn't have gone and she's long gone now, so I'm wondering why and remembering how. Her hair was the various colours of leaves in the fall in a heap as we watched her asleep and we stood there like words with the ink still wet, as reminders of something she'd likely forget, or read in the morning and scrunch in a ball. Her eyes were so wide that they had a seaside and a faraway sail in one eye then the other till I envied my brother and I've not got a brother. Her mouth had his shape that it made and you can't, we tried it all week and our lower lips ached as we pointed this out and she didn't know how she was doing it. I'm sort of doing it now. Her hands were so delicate delicate things were careful with them and the length of her arm was an hour when I saw it at rest on a sill with a twig in its hand that's in my hand still Her body was everything nobody knew and discussed in the dark till it wasn't that dark but her feet were so callused they made it clear We two will be getting her out here. Something was done and she ran from a town and I'm glad it was done or she wouldn't have come, but she wouldn't have gone and she's long gone now, so I'm wondering why and remembering how. You all have your tales and we too have a tale in the form of a play that we stage in the day, it's a play of the Lord, it's a play of the Word: if it had to be written it has to be heard. And we opened the barn for the costumes and sets that have always been there and the dust on the air would set us all sneezing and telling old jokes of old times and old shows in old years with old folks. And one was the Maker and one was the Man, and one was the Angel and one was the Stranger, and all the old lines were as fresh as cold beer in a morning in March in that field over there. But she was so puzzled her mouth did that thing and her eyes were a mist and her hand was a fist that she held to her chin till our play was complete. Then she started to laugh. She was right by that gate. It isn't for laughter we play in our show, it's not at all funny. It isn't for money, it isn't for love. But she laughed and her eyes were the fog as it shrugs in the face of sunrise, and her ribs were the sea in the shirt she wore: we were sickened to follow its suck and its swell, she was out of our reach, she had always been, but that was our choice, if you see what I mean. Something was done and she ran from a town and I'm glad it was done or she wouldn't have come but she wouldn't have gone and she's long gone now, so I'm wondering why and remembering how. Why are you laughing, we wanted to say till one of us did and wanted to hide, and her glistening eyes had no answer to that, so we waited like birds for her swallowing throat to be still and it was, and she stared at the ground like a book of her own to be counted upon. Everything here is made out of card. Take light from the World and you're left with the Word which she seemed to be trying to show in the dust as we crowded to see and could never agree what she said after that - that our Maker was sick of his word? That our souls could be drawn with a stick? That our Man was a rainbow, our Angel should hang? Or the other way round? But whichever way round there was nothing to do but the next thing we did, which was take it in turns to repeat what she said having tiptoed unnoticed away on our own to the elders and olders who had to be told what a creature she was and how little she knew and how hard she was laughing and what she should do. But I was among the ones crowding her light so her shadow was gone but I wasn't the one who asked her to tell us what should have been done, in a voice with arms folded and uniform on. Something was done and she ran from a town and I'm glad it was done or she wouldn't have come, but she wouldn't have gone and she's long gone now, so I'm wondering why and remembering how. And she asked her to say what the Maker would say and a few ran away. I did not run away but I want to have done, so I sit on this gate where there's nothing to wait for at all and I wait. And she looked at who'd said it and looked at who'd not and she stood and she started to speak from her heart what the Maker would say. I can say this to you. For who lives in this shell of a town but we two? The elders assembled like stones in a boat but it sailed as it could, while it could, when it could, and then I saw nothing and now I see all and I wait and there's nothing to wait for at all. And the wind caught the fire with the last of its strength, the fire they began for what had to be done, but the fire caught the town and it burned in my eyes till my eyes were the desert an hour from sunrise. And I talk of we two, but it's me on this gate, with an echo of wind when the song has an end, but the wind didn't do what I too didn't do, and we won't breathe a word till there's reason to.

Michael Symmons Roberts is a British poet known for his exploration of various themes, including religion, history, and contemporary life. Roberts' poetry combines religious imagery with personal reflection, including observations on suburban life and spirituality. Poems like "Miracle on St. David's Day" and "The Visit" offer insights into the intersections of faith and everyday existence within suburban environments.

While Symmons Roberts' oeuvre encompasses a wide range of subjects and settings, his poetry reflects the broader human condition within the context of modernity, which may include elements of suburban life and its intersections with broader societal trends and concerns.

In some of his poems, Symmons Roberts may touch upon suburban themes, such as domesticity, community, and the tension between nature and urban development. He might explore the quiet rhythms of suburban life, the intimacy of family relationships, or the longing for connection amidst the sprawling landscapes of suburbia.

Symmons Roberts' poetry is characterized by its lyrical language, vivid imagery, and keen observation of the world around him. Even when not explicitly focused on suburban settings, his work often captures the essence of contemporary life, where suburban environments play a significant role in shaping individual experiences and collective identities.

In summary, while Michael Symmons Roberts may not be specifically known for suburban poetry, his work offers insights into the complexities of contemporary life, including the nuances of suburban landscapes and experiences, as part of his broader exploration of the human condition.

Simon Armitage, a prominent British poet, playwright, and novelist, is known for his versatility in tackling a wide range of subjects and themes in his work. While he is not exclusively associated with suburban poetry, his poems often touch upon various aspects of modern life, including suburban landscapes and experiences.

Armitage's poetry explores the modern British landscape, including suburban settings and urban decay. Poems like "Poetry" and "The Shout" offer poignant reflections on the complexities of contemporary suburban life.

The Shout

In some of Armitage's poems, suburban settings serve as backdrops for explorations of themes such as identity, memory, and the human condition. He captures the mundane yet profound moments of everyday life in suburban environments, offering readers a glimpse into the complexities of suburban existence.

Armitage's poetry is characterized by its accessibility, wit, and keen observation of the world around him. He has a knack for finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, whether it's in the quiet streets of suburbia or the bustling cityscape. Through his vivid imagery and evocative language, Armitage invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the seemingly mundane aspects of suburban life.

While Armitage's body of work encompasses a wide range of themes and settings, his poems often resonate with readers by capturing the essence of contemporary life, including the suburban landscapes and experiences that shape it.

In summary, while Simon Armitage may not be exclusively associated with suburban poetry, his work reflects the broader spectrum of human experience, which includes moments and themes related to suburban life. His ability to find poetry in the everyday makes his work relatable and compelling, offering readers a deeper understanding of the world around them, including the suburban environments they inhabit.

“Poetry is a long word which can be stretched” – Paul Farley

Paul Farley is a contemporary British poet known for his keen observations of urban and suburban landscapes. His poetry often delves into the intersections of nature, industry, and human life within modern environments, including suburban settings.

In Farley's work, suburban landscapes serve as rich tapestries for exploring themes of memory, identity, and the passage of time. He has a knack for capturing the mundane yet evocative details of suburban life, from quiet residential streets to shopping malls and housing estates.

Farley's poetry is characterized by its vivid imagery, precise language, and keen sense of place. He has a keen sense for finding the poetry in everyday scenes and objects, whether it's the glow of streetlights on a suburban evening or the sound of birdsong amidst the hum of traffic.

While Farley's poetry often celebrates the beauty and complexity of suburban environments, it also acknowledges the challenges and contradictions inherent in these landscapes. He explores themes of urbanization, consumerism, and the impact of human activity on the natural world within suburban settings.

Paul Farley's poetry offers a nuanced and thought-provoking exploration of suburban life, inviting readers to see the beauty and complexity in the everyday environments that surround them. Through his keen observations and evocative language, he captures the essence of suburban landscapes and experiences, offering readers a deeper understanding of the world we inhabit.

Farley's poetry frequently explores the urban and suburban environments of contemporary Britain. Poems like "The City of Gold" and "The House" offer vivid depictions of suburban landscapes and the lives of its inhabitants.

 German audio recording 

Daljit Nagra is a British poet known for his exploration of themes related to identity, culture, and the immigrant experience.

Nagra's poetry often addresses themes of cultural identity, family, and community within suburban environments. Poems like "Look We Have Coming to Dover!" and "Turbans" offer insights into the experiences of British Asians navigating suburban life.

In some of Nagra's poems, suburban settings serve as backdrops for explorations of cultural identity, belonging, and the challenges of navigating between different worlds. He may depict the tensions and contradictions inherent in suburban environments, where diverse communities intersect and interact.

Nagra's poetry is characterized by its wit, humor, and linguistic inventiveness. He often employs a mix of English and Punjabi vernacular, reflecting the hybrid nature of his own cultural background and the communities he writes about.

'So various, so beautiful, so new...' - Matthew Arnold, 'Dover Beach' Stowed in the sea to invade the alfresco lash of a diesel-breeze ratcheting speed into the tide, brunt with gobfuls of surf phlegmed by cushy come-and-go tourists prow'd on the cruisers, lording the ministered waves. Seagull and shoal life vexing their blarnies upon our huddled camouflage past the vast crumble of scummed cliffs, scramming on mulch as thunder unbladders yobbish rain and wind on our escape hutched in a Bedford van. Seasons or years we reap inland, unclocked by the national eye or stabs in the back, teemed for breathing sweeps of grass through the whistling asthma of parks, burdened, ennobled - poling sparks across pylon and pylon. Swarms of us, grafting in the black within shot of the moon's spotlight, banking on the miracle of sun - span its rainbow, passport us to life. Only then can it be human to hoick ourselves, bare-faced for the clear. Imagine my love and I, our sundry others, Blair'd in the cash of our beeswax'd cars, our crash clothes, free, we raise our charged glasses over unparasol'd tables East, babbling our lingoes, flecked by the chalk of Britannia!

Poem © 2007 by Daljit Nagra.

While Nagra's work may not focus solely on suburban themes, his poems offer glimpses into the everyday experiences of individuals living in suburban environments. He captures the rhythms of daily life, the nuances of human relationships, and the struggles of finding one's place in a rapidly changing world.

"In his carefully crafted poetry, Nagra explores the challenging experiences of British-born Asians and through this presents a fresh portrait of modern Britain. His mixing of cultures and language is most obvious in his use of ‘Punglish’, a form of Indian English, influenced by the language of the Punjab. Often in dramatic monologue form, his poems also combine references to things quintessentially English (Dover beach, Ford Grenadas, alcopops) with things quintessentially Indian (saris, rickshaws) or, at least, Anglo-Indian (corner shops)." ( https://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/look-we-have-coming-to-dover )

Daljit Nagra's poetry provides a rich and nuanced exploration of the complexities of contemporary life, including the suburban landscapes and experiences that shape it. Through his keen observations and linguistic dexterity, he offers readers a deeper understanding of the diverse communities and cultures that inhabit suburban environments.

Roddy Lumsden (1966–2020) was a Scottish poet known for his innovative and lyrical poetry that explored a wide range of themes, including love, identity, memory, and the human condition.

Lumsden's poetry frequently explores themes of love, loss, and the everyday within suburban settings. Poems like "The Day Lilies" and "Ten Pin Bowling" offer intimate reflections on the nuances of suburban life.

Lumsden's poetry is characterized by its musicality, wordplay, and keen observations of the world around him. He had a knack for finding beauty and meaning in the ordinary, whether it was in the streets of the city or the quiet corners of suburbia.

In some of his poems, Lumsden may have touched upon suburban themes, such as domesticity, community, and the passage of time. He might have explored the mundane yet profound moments of everyday life in suburban environments, offering readers insights into the rhythms and nuances of suburban existence.

An inch from the curse and pearled by the evening heat       I shake my polo neck and a cool draught buffs my chest. What rises is my animal aroma             the scent of blue-ribbon stock      the sort a starred chef would ladle from a zinc-bottomed pan    to soften and savor the hock he has sawn and roasted for the diners out front who sip at shots of pastis and gnaw around the pits of kalamata olives.                                                           My head sits in his fridge: stooping for herb butter, our eyes meet and he touches my cotton-cold face      just as once I stroked your cheek in a dream you suffered in a room above the river.

Source: Poetry (June 2008)

His poetry continues to be celebrated for its richness, complexity, and ability to capture the beauty and strangeness of the world we inhabit.

Deryn Rees-Jones is a contemporary Welsh poet known for her explorations of themes such as memory, identity, gender, and the domestic sphere. Rees-Jones' poetry frequently explores themes of memory, identity, and place within suburban landscapes. Poems like "Returning" and "Song" offer lyrical meditations on the complexities of domestic life and personal history.

Home As if we would never arrive, we check our watches and connections. So many elsewheres as we walk into abandoned rooms that somehow have forgotten us. A window propped, half-open on a garden, stares. A bird as if to say, you’re here, glances its wings against the blue so far away, then becomes invisible. How they call to us, the lost places. Now I carry my life, as a snail might, slipping across grass and stone: the shrugged contours of her shell’s light spiral, the glistening of her bridal train. Like a half-remembered song, marking us, making us, words call us back, they call us on. To know the world in another language is to never know the world the same.

© https://yorkshiretimes.co.uk/article/Poem-of-the-Week-Home-by-Deryn-ReesJones 

In some of her poems, Rees-Jones touches upon suburban themes, such as domesticity, family dynamics, and the intersection of public and private spaces. She explores the tensions and contradictions inherent in suburban environments, where the mundane coexists with the profound.

Rees-Jones' poetry is characterized by its lyrical language, evocative imagery, and keen observations of the world around her. She has a knack for capturing the subtle nuances of human relationships and the intricate layers of emotion that accompany them.

While Rees-Jones' body of work encompasses a wide range of subjects and settings, her poetry often resonates with readers by illuminating the complexities of contemporary life, including the suburban landscapes and experiences that shape it. Through her vivid imagery and empathetic voice, Rees-Jones invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the everyday moments of suburban existence.

Fiona Benson is a contemporary British poet known for her powerful and evocative poetry that often explores themes of mythology, nature, and the human condition.

In some of her poems, Benson may incorporate suburban settings as part of broader explorations of human experience and emotion. She might explore the intersection of urban and natural environments within suburban landscapes, reflecting on the ways in which the built environment shapes our relationships with the world around us.

Benson's poetry is characterized by its lyrical language, vivid imagery, and emotional resonance. She has a talent for capturing the beauty and strangeness of everyday life, whether it's in the quiet streets of suburbia or the wildness of the natural world.

Benson's poetry often delves into themes of family, relationships, and the natural world within suburban environments. Poems like "A Feminine Middle Distance" and "The Horses" offer intimate portraits of suburban landscapes and human experience.

Exercise Yard

They circle the walls of this high-walled yard en masse. 

Each man hauls the devil at his back, 

they’re that tight-stacked, like dominoes or cards. 

Shadows lead from the sole of each boot 

like the hands of a clock, 

dialled in some odd, lost orbit 

round a bitter, grieving planet. 

Your face is accented, apart. 

You’re committed to the thought that there’s no way out. 

Sunlight is a high weak stain,  utterly unreachable. 

A tubercular winter breathes down your neck. 

You take your time. 

You’ve everything to regret.  

They circle the walls of this high-walled yard en masse.  Each man hauls the devil at his back,  they’re that tight-stacked, like dominoes or cards. 

Shadows lead from the sole of each boot  like the hands of a clock,  dialled in some odd, lost orbit  round a bitter, grieving planet. 

Your face is accented, apart. 

You’re committed to the thought that there’s no way out.  Sunlight is a high weak stain,  utterly unreachable. 

A tubercular winter breathes down your neck. 

You take your time. 

You’ve everything to regret.  

Source:  https://www.mmu.ac.uk/sites/default/files/2023-01/2012-Poems.pdf 

Through her keen observations and empathetic voice, Benson invites readers to see the beauty and significance in the seemingly mundane aspects of suburban life.

The Chimp House

The Chimp House drowses in midsummer heat; I watch through reinforced glass and see a mother sway on her haunches, not daring to sleep as she minds her infant, who is edging towards a piece of iced fruit on the floor of the pit. Across the arena, a silverback dangles an oversized arm from the side of his hammock. His knuckles graze the concrete floor as he rocks back and forth in its synthetic cradle of straps. Nap-time, woozy and dim; sawdust, the fly’s soft tinnitus… The mother snatches her baby to her chest and barrels towards the door-flap and out into a blaze of light so fast she is just a blur; I have to replay it in my mind to see the grey-hackled male rise from his couch, boiled over like a sudden, lidded pan, fly-stung, inhabited by blood, so diminished in his territories – all his lost forests and tanked-in fury – he wants to kill. The scrap of infant gone, he starts to body-slam the glass, which shudders and jars under the muscular smash of his shoulders, so close I see his fur splay to a flash of blue skin before it re-joins as he backs up to slam again, his long bared teeth brown in their oily grooves as if gummed with molasses. I snatch up my daughter and leave, though isn’t this what she must learn – how if you are female or small, you must run.

Source:  https://granta.com/three-poems-fiona-benson/ 

Kate Tempest is a non-binary contemporary British poet, playwright, and musician known for powerful and socially conscious poetry that often explores themes of urban life, social inequality, and the human experience.

In some of her poems, Tempest may incorporate suburban settings as part of broader explorations of contemporary society and its challenges. She might explore the tensions and contradictions inherent in suburban environments, reflecting on the ways in which they shape individual experiences and collective identities.

Tempest's poetry is characterized by its raw honesty, vivid imagery, and rhythmic intensity. She has a talent for capturing the complexities of human emotion and the nuances of everyday life, whether it's in the bustling streets of the city or the quiet corners of suburbia.

The creation of this map was financially supported within Erasmus+ project Urbanism and Suburbanization in the EU Countries and Abroad: Reflection in the Humanities, Social Sciences, and the Arts (2021-1-CZ01-KA220-HED-000023281).

The European Commission's support for the production of this output does not constitute an endorsement of the contents, which reflect the views only of the authors, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.