London Poetry Award Nomination Wendy Cope: ‘Cope goes - gently, gently and ever so charmingly - for the jugular of the soul, opening up a dialogue about things we typically find tough to talk about’

Wendy Cope once said, “People who have never been addicted to nicotine don’t understand what an intense love poem is.” As a former 20-a-day Marlborough monster, I get it. Better yet, I firmly believe that Cope, perhaps the most wonderful of Britain’s modern poets, gets a lot of stuff about what it is to be human. Reading Cope’s poetry makes you say want to shout, “YES! THAT’S HOW I FEEL! I AM NOT ALONE! THANK YOU WENDY!” Cope goes - gently, gently and ever so charmingly - for the jugular of the soul, opening up a dialogue about things we typically find tough to talk about.

The brilliant, bittersweet bleakness of her latest collection, ‘Family Values’, is her most gentle-jugular-grabber yet: a wry, witty and ultimately uplifting tome about the major things in life - death, love, fear, and loneliness. With her characteristic dry-as-a-bone humour, she explores and deconstructs the seismic nuances of human emotion and - gently, gently, ever so charmingly - makes it funny. It’s a strange and most brilliant paradox, and one that must be celebrated. And, to encourage you to start celebrating, here is a sample from the gorgeously gloomy ‘April’.

I don’t believe I will see you when we’re dead.
I don’t believe we’ll meet and be together.
The birds are singing loudly overhead.
I want to stay in this lovely world forever.

The Guardian’s review.

Photo Adrian Harvey