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Grant Tarbard

Updated: Mon, 11 Apr 2016 11:27 am

@GrantTarbard

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Biography

I am the former editor of The Screech Owl, co-founder of Resurgant Press, and currently a poetry reader for Three Drops From A Cauldron. I am the author of the collection As I Was Pulled Under the Earth (Lapwing Publications), as well as the chapbook Yellow Wolf (Writing Knights Press). My poetry has appeared in several anthologies: ×  2014 Anthology (Writing Knights Press) 
×  Greek Fire (Lost Tower Publications) 
×  Miracle at St. Bede’s (Dogma Publishing) 
×  Storm Cycle (Hurricane Press) 
×  The Squire: Page-A-Day Poetry Anthology 2015 (Writing Knights Press) 
 As well as being featured in many journals: The Black Light Engine Room, The Black Sheep Journal, Elbow Room, The Fat Damsel, Ginosko Literary Journal, The Golden Key, HARK, Miracle, Prole, The Rialto, The Seventh Quarry, Southlight, Zymbol, amongst others. 
Previously, I was the first runner-up (at the age of sixteen) in Ottakar’s / Faber National Poetry Competition; a finalist for a Pushcart Prize nomination; and winner of ‘The Sinister Poetry Award’ in the May 2014 issue of Dark & Horror Poetry (The Poetry Box Magazine).

Samples

Disturbia when walking home after a night on the tiles in 1997 Arm in arm they went down the lamps of youth, these dazed boys glazed and in a blunt toothed eye swayed the sunlight to sleep, red as Vermouth. Their clothes were spindrift, tied up with belts. Cry thistles in beauty of midnight's bundled cold tones, still as a gag, dead as Christmas. Snow swam, ghosts on strings as the boys trundled home in a soaked canvas, clogged blue litmus pale, plate still street under the whiskey haze. A stubborn soberness gripped them, a tuck of a room beyond frosted double glaze, Was that a woman dead as a black duck? She had two vampires lingering over her slumped, drained body, as white as clover. Published in Stepaway Magazine

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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