{"id":6939,"date":"2014-06-21T08:00:48","date_gmt":"2014-06-21T08:00:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=6939"},"modified":"2014-05-29T15:12:30","modified_gmt":"2014-05-29T15:12:30","slug":"lisa-oliver-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/lisa-oliver-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Lisa Oliver"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>The Melancholy of Final Pages<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p>The aim is still the same,<\/p>\n<p>reflect what it means to be human.<\/p>\n<p>A tale, of ghosts past and present.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The voice was unmistakable,<\/p>\n<p>this calculated rudeness feeding the cooked flesh,<\/p>\n<p>a vehicle for rage irredeemably cursed.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Hatred does not always need excision,<\/p>\n<p>enchanted with metaphor,<\/p>\n<p>he cannot resist lurid detail.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The randomness of landscape<\/p>\n<p>set in the present, infused<\/p>\n<p>with archaic memories of a primitive age.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>No-one is safe<\/p>\n<p>in the shadow of the zone<\/p>\n<p>of the Dead City.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>My chest is sprung open<\/p>\n<p>with arresting clarity<\/p>\n<p>in the experiment.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Lisa Oliver<\/strong>\u00a0is a writer and tutor based in Cheshire.\u00a0 She has an MA in Creative Writing from Keele University where she specialised in prose fiction. Lisa graduated with a new-found love and respect for poetry and is addicted to finding poetry in the everyday, the weird and the wonderful.\u00a0<a href=\"http:\/\/lisajoliver.wordpress.com\/\" target=\"_blank\">lisajoliver.wordpress.com<\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Note: \u00a0Sentences and phrases found from<em> The Guardian Review,<\/em> 1 March 2014<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The Melancholy of Final Pages \u00a0 The aim is still the same, reflect what it means to be human. A tale, of ghosts past and present. &nbsp; The voice was unmistakable, this calculated rudeness feeding the cooked flesh, a vehicle for rage irredeemably cursed. &nbsp; Hatred does not always need excision, enchanted [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6939","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6939","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6939"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6939\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6941,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6939\/revisions\/6941"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6939"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6939"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6939"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}