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Between the Trees: Poetry and prose
156 pages, Paperback
First published May 19, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
May 31, 2019
"My reflection in the train window settles
between the trees
beyond the glass
lining the field of gold."
In itself, the opening of the title poem speaks of forlorn reluctance, wishes, and wonders. It must be because there’s something so powerful and intimate about one’s reflection; we study ourselves and pick up every nuance, whether we want to acknowledge ourselves or not. As I continued to let the verses unfurl, I wondered if Kristiana Reed had written this poem for me.
Between the Trees, as a poetry collection, is a heroic tribute to Self. I say heroic, because self-discovery is a demanding journey that many of us often quit, or never even begin. What strikes me most is that Reed brings her vulnerabilities to light without abdicating a single fiber of her resolve to persevere in life, “I want to reach inside myself/and find perennial blossoms, /butterflies, and next times” (Perennial Blossoms), and in love. “I want to listen to bird song/and reminisce about love, /about your touch” (Reminisce).
On the surface, Kristiana Reed’s poetry appears to be delicate, but don’t be fooled by a simple glance. Within these pages, you’ll find countless chasms to explore. This body of poems and prose is certainly Reed’s body. It is her mind and soul. I hope that when you read Between the Trees, you take the time to contemplate her truth, and perhaps apply this level of honesty to your own life.
between the trees
beyond the glass
lining the field of gold."
In itself, the opening of the title poem speaks of forlorn reluctance, wishes, and wonders. It must be because there’s something so powerful and intimate about one’s reflection; we study ourselves and pick up every nuance, whether we want to acknowledge ourselves or not. As I continued to let the verses unfurl, I wondered if Kristiana Reed had written this poem for me.
Between the Trees, as a poetry collection, is a heroic tribute to Self. I say heroic, because self-discovery is a demanding journey that many of us often quit, or never even begin. What strikes me most is that Reed brings her vulnerabilities to light without abdicating a single fiber of her resolve to persevere in life, “I want to reach inside myself/and find perennial blossoms, /butterflies, and next times” (Perennial Blossoms), and in love. “I want to listen to bird song/and reminisce about love, /about your touch” (Reminisce).
On the surface, Kristiana Reed’s poetry appears to be delicate, but don’t be fooled by a simple glance. Within these pages, you’ll find countless chasms to explore. This body of poems and prose is certainly Reed’s body. It is her mind and soul. I hope that when you read Between the Trees, you take the time to contemplate her truth, and perhaps apply this level of honesty to your own life.
May 30, 2019
Between the Trees is a beautiful and inspiring debut collection of heartfelt poetry and prose. The imagery and language combine in a captivating manner to chart Kristiana's myriad of moods and emotions as she comes to terms with who she is and her place as a young twenty- something within her own being and the wider world. It is impossible not to be moved and inspired by the poignant tenderness, desperation and resilience that weaves through Between the Trees; making selecting individual pieces so hard to choose over others. Whether it is being drawn into the closing strength of 'I Knew my Mistakes'; the touching tender 'interwining music notes and audible sighs' of 'A Lullaby'; or the whimsical kinks of 'Learning to Braid' -Between the Trees is a collection to be read and felt, reread and rediscovered and dipped into to experience the nuances of a young writer's voice.
May 31, 2019
“For the first time, I saw a way out and it was beautiful.”
Many known poets were older, for the simple reason, by the time they become known they are either dead or have lived many years. Kristiana Reed is one of those exceptionally gifted writers who like Mary Shelly, was able to find her words almost the moment she came into existence. Kristiana’s writing is an essential oil, a fluid balm and a world within and outside our own. I say this because the sheer eloquence of one so young, is unfamiliar to most of us, but if you think about it, poetry is the life blood of the young and passionate. “You see in a forest like this, people discover the tastes, smells and person they choose to call ‘Home’.” (Thousand-Year-Old Forest)
There is something outstandingly honest, immediate and alluringly fragile about a young poet. A jaded person may say we only have within us, a short space of authenticity and emotion before we age out of that intensity. I cannot agree but I do see an indefinable courage in the young, an ability to SPEAK IT in a way fewer older poets are able. Kristiana writes with the purity of her heart and nobody can turn away from that. In this generation of Tweets and soundbites, Kristiana’s work stands out from the crowd because she’s not framing her words into pithy quotes and Facebook memes, she’s writing our world through her eyes, she’s spilling herself onto the page in careful strokes and cadence, this fascination is permanent not illusionary. “We talk about / how the jigsaw edges of my heart / fit perfectly / in between your fingers,” (Waxing Lyrical).
In addition, Kristiana she has many things going for her as a writer; her command and mastery of the English language is superlative, I know this because I’ve seen how well she edits others work. She has an immense knowledge of writing, a breadth of her own which exceeds other poets three times her age, a cleverness which I think we’ll admit, all poets must possess if they are to knock our socks off, and her beautiful interpretation of feelings juxtaposed against the natural world, are so vivid, I find myself in her universe time and again. This is her gift; she literally pulls you in and takes you there. “Sometimes I wonder / which would be better: / death or insomnia? / Because I cannot / withstand the in-between.” (Hanging Moon). In understanding that precarious position of possessing dreams but feeling tormented by them, Kristiana gives words to that hard to describe place of wishing for consciousness to end.
Only someone who has exquisite writing skills can indeed hope to do this, and few modern writers know how to write as well as they think. Kristiana is an old soul in fresh skin, she not only possesses that classical fluency, she can also tap into her generation and have the necessary immediacy required. I haven’t met Kristiana but I feel I have through her writing, which is perhaps the greatest gift any writer can hope to achieve. She lays herself on the page, it is unbelievable to imagine she’s only been writing five years, I would have said her entire life thus far, and I have no doubt she will now, always be a writer. “I think the people around me hate me. / For resigning myself to this bench with my ghost.” (Red Tutu). We assume those closer to literal death can understand the shift between being and ending but many times the young have a clarity of vision we lose as we age, and as someone older now, I can read in Kristiana’s words, a world I also saw, reminded through her words, exactly of those moments. You can live a lot in 25 years and a little in 100. it’s all about the intensity of observation and feeling.
Kristiana’s work vacillates between being both raw boned and fine like porcelain, it is because she is a master of weaving words together and using incredible imagery to evoke her thoughts, but she also knows how to ‘say it’ without falling into the morass of too much detail. That is a fine line to walk and one few poets master this in their life time. Take the line; “Two strangers, with sunset hearts” there is such a simplicity here, yet it is anything but simple. It is well thought out, original, evocative, lyrical, blending natural world tempo with feeling. “my toes, sinking into dew jewels / and blades of Winter’s heartache. / The seat, shrouded in shadow trees / reached out for lovers.” (9am).
This is the core of poetry at its best, where the poet can inhabit that strange place between ourselves and the earth and do so with apparently no effort, though we know it takes something you cannot learn, you are born with it. It is uncanny how Kristiana is able to do this as such a young age, but then again, if you are born with this talent and possess the feelings, this is exactly when you would begin to dazzle and flourish. “We curled into each other’s lives / as if wisps of bottle blue smoke” (A Lullaby)
I have always been a huge fan of English poets and Kristiana’s work is very English. This is a compliment, she has the alacrity and clarity alongside the depth and passion we love of authors like Emily Bronte, Edna O Brian and Mary Webb. Her earthiness is her connection to the countryside and its beauty, she breathes her world into her redhead words and leaves us enraptured. I have such a huge quantity of respect for this young woman, not only because I genuinely relish and admire her work, but she is such a hard worker, so committed, thoughtful and passionate, and I think people like that galvanize the whole idea of poetry. They are necessary for all of us and yet they are rare, because it is so hard to have balance in poetry and one’s personal life and yet this is exactly what Kristiana outwardly projects.
If she were a dancer people would say Kristiana had that indescribable poise and that is how I read her work. There is such a bewitching gravitas to her insight, anyone at any age could learn from her, as she learns from herself in her revelations. Hers is a journey you wish to take; I find myself searching out her latest posts online and that is surely a sign of a poet worth reading; “There is a video of me / aged nine / with bobbed red hair / one finger in the air / waiting for the magician / to spin a plate.” (Aged Nine). The photography within this collection acts as a wonderful buttress to the magical word play, she spins throughout and her signature balance is found.
I respond to poetry that is like an incredible song; it moves you; it takes you, captures you, replaces reality with itself. A dream within a dream. Truthful like a mirror hung over your day; “I convince myself every morning / that I’m worth a reflection” (Being Myself). Kristiana’s work reminds me of the incredible band Daughter, their lyrics are much as hers, completely nimble in their intrusion into your core, and speaking of ordinary things in extraordinary ways, until you realize, the ordinary is the extraordinary.
All magical witches of poetry, have a certain addition to their writing style, it’s that Kate Bush wistfulness, the ebb and flow of combining the natural world with evocative, unused word play that forces a passion from the simplest things; “snuff out the life / under your collarbone.” (The Meadow).
This is the ability to see from nothing, a universe that others pass by, to make something of that observation, something we recognize in our marrow, and force from ourselves, an emotion we didn’t know we had. “She grew cold in her rapture / held by a pin prick of light / already dying and yet / in the watercolour pools of her eyes, / the night sky had never looked so alive.” (Inky Heaven). It is only when you can summon those signs and symbols you can truly be a poet, and Kristiana Reed, with her youth, her vision and her wisdom, has set the gentle night on fire with her simmering passion, filling us with “ink and hope; / breathing / in spite of the world.” (Damsel).
Many known poets were older, for the simple reason, by the time they become known they are either dead or have lived many years. Kristiana Reed is one of those exceptionally gifted writers who like Mary Shelly, was able to find her words almost the moment she came into existence. Kristiana’s writing is an essential oil, a fluid balm and a world within and outside our own. I say this because the sheer eloquence of one so young, is unfamiliar to most of us, but if you think about it, poetry is the life blood of the young and passionate. “You see in a forest like this, people discover the tastes, smells and person they choose to call ‘Home’.” (Thousand-Year-Old Forest)
There is something outstandingly honest, immediate and alluringly fragile about a young poet. A jaded person may say we only have within us, a short space of authenticity and emotion before we age out of that intensity. I cannot agree but I do see an indefinable courage in the young, an ability to SPEAK IT in a way fewer older poets are able. Kristiana writes with the purity of her heart and nobody can turn away from that. In this generation of Tweets and soundbites, Kristiana’s work stands out from the crowd because she’s not framing her words into pithy quotes and Facebook memes, she’s writing our world through her eyes, she’s spilling herself onto the page in careful strokes and cadence, this fascination is permanent not illusionary. “We talk about / how the jigsaw edges of my heart / fit perfectly / in between your fingers,” (Waxing Lyrical).
In addition, Kristiana she has many things going for her as a writer; her command and mastery of the English language is superlative, I know this because I’ve seen how well she edits others work. She has an immense knowledge of writing, a breadth of her own which exceeds other poets three times her age, a cleverness which I think we’ll admit, all poets must possess if they are to knock our socks off, and her beautiful interpretation of feelings juxtaposed against the natural world, are so vivid, I find myself in her universe time and again. This is her gift; she literally pulls you in and takes you there. “Sometimes I wonder / which would be better: / death or insomnia? / Because I cannot / withstand the in-between.” (Hanging Moon). In understanding that precarious position of possessing dreams but feeling tormented by them, Kristiana gives words to that hard to describe place of wishing for consciousness to end.
Only someone who has exquisite writing skills can indeed hope to do this, and few modern writers know how to write as well as they think. Kristiana is an old soul in fresh skin, she not only possesses that classical fluency, she can also tap into her generation and have the necessary immediacy required. I haven’t met Kristiana but I feel I have through her writing, which is perhaps the greatest gift any writer can hope to achieve. She lays herself on the page, it is unbelievable to imagine she’s only been writing five years, I would have said her entire life thus far, and I have no doubt she will now, always be a writer. “I think the people around me hate me. / For resigning myself to this bench with my ghost.” (Red Tutu). We assume those closer to literal death can understand the shift between being and ending but many times the young have a clarity of vision we lose as we age, and as someone older now, I can read in Kristiana’s words, a world I also saw, reminded through her words, exactly of those moments. You can live a lot in 25 years and a little in 100. it’s all about the intensity of observation and feeling.
Kristiana’s work vacillates between being both raw boned and fine like porcelain, it is because she is a master of weaving words together and using incredible imagery to evoke her thoughts, but she also knows how to ‘say it’ without falling into the morass of too much detail. That is a fine line to walk and one few poets master this in their life time. Take the line; “Two strangers, with sunset hearts” there is such a simplicity here, yet it is anything but simple. It is well thought out, original, evocative, lyrical, blending natural world tempo with feeling. “my toes, sinking into dew jewels / and blades of Winter’s heartache. / The seat, shrouded in shadow trees / reached out for lovers.” (9am).
This is the core of poetry at its best, where the poet can inhabit that strange place between ourselves and the earth and do so with apparently no effort, though we know it takes something you cannot learn, you are born with it. It is uncanny how Kristiana is able to do this as such a young age, but then again, if you are born with this talent and possess the feelings, this is exactly when you would begin to dazzle and flourish. “We curled into each other’s lives / as if wisps of bottle blue smoke” (A Lullaby)
I have always been a huge fan of English poets and Kristiana’s work is very English. This is a compliment, she has the alacrity and clarity alongside the depth and passion we love of authors like Emily Bronte, Edna O Brian and Mary Webb. Her earthiness is her connection to the countryside and its beauty, she breathes her world into her redhead words and leaves us enraptured. I have such a huge quantity of respect for this young woman, not only because I genuinely relish and admire her work, but she is such a hard worker, so committed, thoughtful and passionate, and I think people like that galvanize the whole idea of poetry. They are necessary for all of us and yet they are rare, because it is so hard to have balance in poetry and one’s personal life and yet this is exactly what Kristiana outwardly projects.
If she were a dancer people would say Kristiana had that indescribable poise and that is how I read her work. There is such a bewitching gravitas to her insight, anyone at any age could learn from her, as she learns from herself in her revelations. Hers is a journey you wish to take; I find myself searching out her latest posts online and that is surely a sign of a poet worth reading; “There is a video of me / aged nine / with bobbed red hair / one finger in the air / waiting for the magician / to spin a plate.” (Aged Nine). The photography within this collection acts as a wonderful buttress to the magical word play, she spins throughout and her signature balance is found.
I respond to poetry that is like an incredible song; it moves you; it takes you, captures you, replaces reality with itself. A dream within a dream. Truthful like a mirror hung over your day; “I convince myself every morning / that I’m worth a reflection” (Being Myself). Kristiana’s work reminds me of the incredible band Daughter, their lyrics are much as hers, completely nimble in their intrusion into your core, and speaking of ordinary things in extraordinary ways, until you realize, the ordinary is the extraordinary.
All magical witches of poetry, have a certain addition to their writing style, it’s that Kate Bush wistfulness, the ebb and flow of combining the natural world with evocative, unused word play that forces a passion from the simplest things; “snuff out the life / under your collarbone.” (The Meadow).
This is the ability to see from nothing, a universe that others pass by, to make something of that observation, something we recognize in our marrow, and force from ourselves, an emotion we didn’t know we had. “She grew cold in her rapture / held by a pin prick of light / already dying and yet / in the watercolour pools of her eyes, / the night sky had never looked so alive.” (Inky Heaven). It is only when you can summon those signs and symbols you can truly be a poet, and Kristiana Reed, with her youth, her vision and her wisdom, has set the gentle night on fire with her simmering passion, filling us with “ink and hope; / breathing / in spite of the world.” (Damsel).
August 27, 2020
This is Kristiana’s first book of poetry and she shares her highs and her lows with her readers. I am sure many people will find it an encouragement.
September 7, 2019
Between the Trees: Poetry and Prose is the debut poetry collection by Kristiana Reed of My Screaming Twenties and Free Verse Revolution. This is much more than just a collection of verse and prose. Reed has created a vessel for the reader to follow her in on a poetic journey through her life, which is bookended by the poems ‘Between the Trees’ and ‘Beyond the Trees’ (The poem ‘Grown Up’ appears first in the collection, acting as a prologue to the poetic cycle that follows).
Before getting to the title poem, Reed begins with ‘Grown Up’ in which she laments how being a “grown up” involves things she hadn’t imagined as a kid:
I’ll be honest
when I said the words
grown up
aged thirteen
I didn’t see
a tub of ice cream,
crying
and sitting in the dark
listening to the sky
opening.
These lines foreshadow what is to come and masterfully set the stage for the reader. The title poem describes a moment on a train trip when the poet sees her reflection in the window overlay the scenery passing by: a golden meadow filled with sunshine, edged by trees. Between the trees is a shadow, and it is within that shadow that she sees herself:
between the trees
beyond the glass
lining the field of gold;
touching life and yearning
for freedom.
The rest of the book is a poetic description of her metaphorical journey out of that grove of trees, beyond the shadows of the forest. The poems and short prose in this collection tell of a journey through love, loss, and depression. Reed’s poetry is a revealing portrait of a young woman on her journey to find out who she is. The verse written in an easily accessible conversational style in which Reed readily establishes her voice as the reader feels they are eavesdropping on her melancholy thoughts and memories of the past few years. She is vulnerable, though never weak, as she opens her life up on the pages of this book. Many of these poems carry a darkness, one might say the darkness of the shadows between the trees, they convey the heartaches that have occurred and the desire to be free of the pain. The one thing these poems do not contain, however, is despair. The underlying theme of these poems is hope. It marks a journey that begins in shadow, but always looks beyond the current darkness to the light that exists outside the forest.
Kristiana Reed has created a wonderful collection of poetry filled with experiences and feelings all of us have encountered at one time or another in our lives. More importantly, it shows us all that just because we’re under a shadow now doesn’t mean we can’t sunbathe in the meadow later.
May 20, 2019
The first word that comes to mind when reading Reed's work- which is not limited to her customary free verse, but prose and shorter poems, like “Hope”- is haunting. At the same time, that seems a primitive, schoolyard adjective. Haunting are the ghost stories we told our younger siblings and friends in hopes of making them jump at the shadows. Haunting is stepping inside an old house, wondering what spirits infest its master bedrooms and cellar. Haunting are the regrets we all live with, in spite of the things and decisions we could have handled better.
I know Kristiana Reed. She has been my confidante, friend, beta reader, business partner, book reviewer and fellow poet for the better part of two years. But I didn't really know her like I do after reading her first book of poetry, Between the Trees. I have read many of these poems before; but they were snippets of a debut masterpiece, waiting for its ultimate assembly. Within its pages, Reed paints a sharp contrast- that of a heart brimming with love (sometimes to the point of naivete, as she points out herself on several occasions); and a mindset in mutiny, forever wondering if she is deserving of its reciprocation.
Through her vivid imagery, we move through Reed's ghosts, regrets, quiet optimism and tempered grace. There is no crescendo here; no grand revelation, because the only revelation occurring here is the voice within Between the Trees, spiriting us away on a journey of self-reflection and growth.
I give this book my highest, and most certainly subjective, recommendation.
I know Kristiana Reed. She has been my confidante, friend, beta reader, business partner, book reviewer and fellow poet for the better part of two years. But I didn't really know her like I do after reading her first book of poetry, Between the Trees. I have read many of these poems before; but they were snippets of a debut masterpiece, waiting for its ultimate assembly. Within its pages, Reed paints a sharp contrast- that of a heart brimming with love (sometimes to the point of naivete, as she points out herself on several occasions); and a mindset in mutiny, forever wondering if she is deserving of its reciprocation.
Through her vivid imagery, we move through Reed's ghosts, regrets, quiet optimism and tempered grace. There is no crescendo here; no grand revelation, because the only revelation occurring here is the voice within Between the Trees, spiriting us away on a journey of self-reflection and growth.
I give this book my highest, and most certainly subjective, recommendation.
September 9, 2020
This is a stunning and incredible sweet collection that had me feeling like I was holding Kristiana’s heart in my hands as I read it. She weaves vivid metaphors into her poetry with ease and writes very tenderly about her life, struggles and journey. If you are looking for a tender read that will reach through to your very soul, I really recommend this book!
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February 4, 2020is came too life and tried too stab me
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