# At the Tate Modern

- Link: https://writersworkshopindia.com/2021/07/19/at-the-tate-modern/
- Published: 2021-07-19T20:35:28+00:00
- Author: shuktara

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**Author: **Joe Winter[⌊A sample cover of the book: red coloured handloom sari with gold embossed nameplate and lettering for the title and author's name. The border of the sari lines the right hand margin of the cover.⌉](https://writersworkshopindia.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/At-the-Tate-Modern.jpeg)
**
Pages:** 76 **Year of Publication:** 2021 **Price:** Rs 250 **ISBN:** 978-81-949985-
8-7 (9788194998587)

_**About the Author**_
 Joe Winter was born in 1943. He took up poetry at university
where he studied Latin and Greek and English Literature. From 1967 to 1993 he taught
English in London comprehensive schools, and in 1994 moved to Kolkata where he taught
part-time before returning to England in 2006. In Kolkata he wrote a number of articles
for _The Statesman_ and other journals on literary and general topics. He has published
translations of Rabindranath Tagore’s _Gitanjali, Lipika, Atmaparichay_ (as co-translator),
a selection of Tagore’s poems first to last (_The Golden Boat_); a selection of 
the poems of Jibanananda Das (_Naked Lonely Hand_), and Das’s _Rupasi Bangla_ (_Bengal
the Beautiful_). In addition he has published an account of his stay in India, _Calcutta
Song_. His more recent works are translations of _Beowulf_ and the Middle English
poem _Pearl_; a reading of Shakespeare’s Sonnets (_Two Loves I Have_); and an exploration
of _Hamlet _(_Hide Fox, and All After_). **Writers Workshop** has brought out all
of Joe Winter’s own poetry to date; this is his twenty-second volume. He blogs at
[http://joewinter-poet.com/](http://joewinter-poet.com/).

_**Teaser**_

_Boris_

Charge, CHARGE! I am in the rugby game
 of my life. Do not think of not winning,
this fixture is a “must”. I hug the ball to my chest; it is valuable beyond pearls
and rubies.

CHARGE! There is no-one to pass to.
 The loose scrum has tightened, tightened, they
are clawing, blocking, all sorts of shenanigans. I shall not give it up.

In the eye of the storm
 it is all there, as if it could go in a second, the dalliance,
the dance with the Fates, the drift and the dare and the dazzle, the path down a
petal-strewn journey. I see it, admit it, and I blow it away

the impenitent hoohah of my being

Take it all as seriously as you like, my friends,
 the fact is, the hard grit, that
takes the skin off the face is the surface I embrace. Up again, a few feet more ...

this fixture is a one-off.
 The rules as we know them are suspended. In the onslaught
and counter-onslaught of new rules, new ploys, new bondings . . . and almost it 
seems in the struggles of a new birth as to who we are and what we are my friends,
there’s a prize worth the playing for on our treasured ground. I shall not give 
it up, the trust that is placed in me. Bear with me. A score’s on the cards – a 
result to work wonders.

*

I shall move heaven and earth
 to get the ball over the line.

_**Contents**_
 Theresa / 9 Boris / 11 James Lovelock, Gaian / 13 The Brothers /
14 River Lodge / 17 Housewarming / 18 Le Chemin des Juifs / 19 On Hearing of a New
Friend’s Death / 20 Pic / 21 Birthday Wish / 22 Upping Sticks / 23

**At the Tate Modern** / 25

_Three poems from Lockdown_
 Birthday Text / 61 To the Sea / 72 Sestina / 73