Poet Profile: Sophie Buchaillard

Novelist-cum-educator-cum-poet Sophie Buchaillard returns as the latest subject of our Poet Profiles series, where we pose ten burning questions to poets helping shape the literary landscape of Wales.

Shortlisted for both Wales Book of the Year (2023) and the Bridport Poetry Prize (2024), Buchaillard’s writing has gained attention for its sensitive yet unflinching treatment of challenging content. Outside of her own writing, she is a facilitator of creative writing workshops in her community, some of which have inspired parts of her debut collection, Painting Over the Cracks (2024).

Do you remember what first drew you to poetry?

I was always weary of poetry as a form, largely because my encounter with it was the French national curriculum: Baudelaire, Verlaine, Rimbaud. I loved what they wrote, but I didn’t relate to the (male) experience they depicted. Also the way teachers presented poetry by focusing on established rules and rigid forms gave it an air of institutional straight jacket that profoundly put me off. To me, contemporary writing ought to be fluid and unburdened, like jazz. And I saw poetry more like a Missa Solemnis.

I was wrong, obviously! In 2023, I got to spend time with contemporary poets at the Hay Festival. Hearing spoken word poetry about individuals’ lived experience of trauma was transformational. It sparked something. I went home and spent a year reading contemporary poets, observing how they approached each experience, learning that no topic was out off bounds. And then, well, I started writing. That year of reading and experimenting with words became a gateway to another form of expression for me, one much more immediate and portable than fiction: whilst fiction was a slow cooked stew, poetry is a grilled cheese sandwich. It doesn’t have to take itself seriously. It has a strong tradition of light public entertainment that is too often obfuscated by dim pedantry.

Who are some of your favourite living poets, and what resonates with you in their work?

The New Zealander Hera Lindsay Bird. Her poetry is totally unapologetic and fills me with unadulterated giddiness. Raymond Antrobus, because of the way he turned vulnerability into a superpower, and because of the emotion I feel when watching him perform Two Guns in the Sky for Daniel Harris, where he blends spoken words and sign language to create a powerful conversation. Caleb Femi, for kicking down poetry’s self-imposed boundaries.

Is there a poem by someone else you wish you’d written?

A whole collection actually. When I read Joy Sullivan’s Instructions for Traveling West I get the feeling she wrote about my life. It is uncanny.

What have you read recently that excited or surprised you?

The words to Eminem’s 2010 Recovery album. Growing up in a language other than English, I have a tendency to focus more on rhythm and melody than the actual words of a song. There is something about Eminem’s play-on-words that truly delights me.

What inspires you outside of literature?

So many things. When I was living in Cardiff, I would go to the National Museum several times a week and just walk the corridors. A lot of my inspiration comes from meeting with new people and hearing their stories, walking the Welsh countryside listening to the sounds of nature, and old family pictures. And music. Always music.

Recently, inspiration has come from sitting in my own veg garden and noticing minute daily changes in the food I grow, and the ballet of birds and insects which contribute to the whole process.

What projects or poems have you been working on lately?

I am writing a memoir at the moment. It has been a stop and start project as I was putting the finishing touch to my debut collection Painting Over the Cracks, which came out in October. I am also in a sort of poetic conversation with another poet about what happens when you let go of boundaries.

Do you have any rituals or habits that help you write?

Coffee. I have to have a cup of coffee before I start to write. I also have an old wooden fountain pen and the feel of the nib on the paper signals my brain the writing time has started. That said, most of my poems have started life as a note on my phone, usually sitting on the bus. That grilled cheese again!

What’s one word you wish you could use in a poem but never have?

Tentacular. Don’t ask me why.

If your poems were a type of animal, what would they be and why?

A bumble bee: their unlikely shape should make it impossible to fly, and yet… they are like the grilled cheese sandwich of the animal world: a comforting presence.

One last thing! Would you like to share one of your poems and tell us why you chose it?

I feel like I should write and ‘Ode to Grilled Cheese’ after all this:

To Grill

Or Not to Grill?

Out of the question:

Just grab // slices // thick white bread

Butter

Cheese

Butter

M

E

L

T

__ Plate up__

Here you go. Bee.