Valerie Laws

Rookie - 0 Points (Northumberland)

Biography of Valerie Laws

Valerie Laws poet

Poet, performer, crime novelist, playwright and sci-art installation specialist. Her new poetry book 'All That Lives' arises from funded Residencies at a London Pathology Museum, at Newcastle University's Institute for Ageing and Health working with neuroscientists creating poetry about the brain’s bizarre beauty and life cycle, and Evolving Words for Darwin 200. Her 11 books include poetry (including 3 full collections) , crime & comedy fiction, and drama. Many prizes, including Wellcome Trust Arts Award, twice prizewinner in National Poetry competition, two Northern Writers' Awards. Devises new forms of poetry, science-themed poetry installations and commissions including the infamous Quantum Sheep, an Arts Council-funded project spray-painting random haiku onto live sheep. She featured in BBC2 TV's Why Poetry Matters, with Griff Rhys Jones, and live at Royal Festival Hall, London. Poetry AV installations (eg Slicing the Brain) feature in public exhibitions in London, Berlin, Newcastle et al. She performs worldwide. Many residencies, including in Egypt.She has written 12 commissioned plays for stage and BBC radio.

Valerie Laws's Works:

All That Lives (poetry collection, Red Squirrel Press)
Quantum Sheep (poetry collection, Peterloo Poets)
Moonbathing (poetry collection, Peterloo Poets)
The Rotting Spot (crime, Red Squirrel Press & amazon kindle)
Lydia Bennet's Blog (comedy ebook, Kindle & Smashwords)
Changing Age, Changing Minds (prose/poetry, University of Newcastle)
Star Trek - the Poems (anthology I edited, Iron Press)
Hadaway (drama, Iron Press)
For Crying Out Loud (joint collection, Iron Press)
Au Secours (language course co-authored for MGP)
Hilfe (ditto) Updates

Lifting The Lid

Full fathom five in A&E, my father
Lies white as a cuttlefish blade, suddenly granted
The sailor's death war denied him. Water runs
Clear from his mouth and the puncture wounds
Where they pumped in saline to keep his heart afloat
Too late. Holed below the water line, he's drowned,
Awash, beached, bleached, my pale hand red raw beef
Beside his dead man's fingers. Our nails, I see
For the first and last time, are exactly the same shape.

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