NEW HOPE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW ON-LINE

In the format of a newspaper and advertising supported, this has a mix of poems, pictures and an interesting interview with Barbara Hoffman, who is a poet and teaches at a University in Scranton, PA. Responding to a question about poetry she replied;

The dynamo is just out of control. Poetry today has no form. It's just emotion for emotions sake. All surface; heartfelt without substance.

	The trail paves pallid my feet
	in gold, stubs my toe with wounded reds 
	And the blessed brocade of autumn
	raises its awe full head

The other poems have all been well selected and are of a high standard, but I would pick out Herb Kitson's SUMMER'S GONE for particular mention. The opening stanza has these lines;

	Summers gone
	I saw it crawl away
	like a shadow
	silently
	out of the woodpile
	behind the shed,
	a daddy longlegs.

This was a first for me — reading poetry with arms wide — feeling that newspaper paper between thumb and forefinger — glancing at the adverts.

This looks and feels rather like my local rag. Most of the work is by poets unfamiliar to me; with the exception of Giovanni Malito and Gerald England (both contributing good poems). England's BENNACHIE is particularly good; longish line stanzas with a lovely sound/sight image in the last verse:

	A road leads by My Lord's Throat
	where the larynxed Don is littered
	by stone teeth that seem to be
	as old as Bennachie itself.

	I cracked the nuts,
	little round filberts, rough pecans,
	pyramids of shells rose from the table
	when I split a walnut into two perfect halves
	I celebrated and sneaked one into my mouth;

	... clods of black earth flying
	warm breeze caressing bare limbs
	until finally we can
	take no more
	Stand up 
	Shake the grass
	from your eyes
	and smile.

	Outside it has the look and feel of an old tire
	But within fruit the shade of apricot
	To rival the blush of a child just up from sleep...