My poem “Stopped Among Oak trees” is published in the poetry magazine South 47. “Walked in from the Cold” is in South 48. “And Yet” is in South 49. “Three Ages of Water” appeared in Weyfarers 115. “Genesis of Frost” and “Promise” appeared in the 21 issue of The Seventh Quarry poetry magazine, winter-spring 2015. “Lips” and “The Way Through Tomsk” are in The Seventh Quarry’s 24th issue.
I had my poem “Is this Wise?” published in an anthology “Reflections: A Collection of Poetry” by Young Writers in January 2012. “The Real Thing” was published in Aspects Of Love, and “Tomsk in the 1980s and now” in Inspired in autumn 2012. “Todmorden Market Close on a Saturday Afternoon” is in The Great British Write Off – No Place Like Home, out in October 2014.
My haiku appeared in Convorbiri Literare, a Romanian literary magazine.
I have performed my poetry at festivals in Manchester and Halifax, as well as in the Three Minute Theatre. I perform at spoken word events in Calderdale and beyond.
John Darwin, a Manchester-based poet was kind enough to give my performance at January 2014 Spoken Weird this review: ”I was fascinated by the second guest Oxana Poberejnaia. Speaking fluently in a second language is hard enough but to write coherent and thought provoking poetry in one is astonishing. Her words were delightful, her mannerisms and delivery even more so. Unusual. She sticks in my head.”
I read at Puzzle Hall Poets in Sowerby Bridge and this is what the organiser Gaia Holmes said: “a BIG daffodil yellow thank you to you for being our guest at ‘The Puzzle’. You were wonderful…poems of poignancy, power and variety.”
For my high school yearbook my Mom found a poem I wrote when I was five years old. It was about a “burning” grass of nettles. Since then, I have written poems about things and people I love: winter and Sean Connery among others.
You can find examples of my poetry in the Category “Poems” on the right side menu bar and two are here:
Taking on the mantle of the public’s voice.
Who am I to make generalisations?
Not everyone likes the Parrot Sketch
And not all delight in rhyme clashes.
With poetry, it’s always a royal «We»
And a poetic «I», which includes
The whole world, olive oil through to ghee
In a line resolves all disputes.
By the right of this keyboard
And by the power given to me by
Stephen Fry I pronounce this dross
My Grandmother during the Battle of Stalingrad
The door’s brush
On the wooden floor
Smell of unwashed men
Smoke and spits
A young voice
Not from our village speaks:
“Take us in for a day,
She’s my Mother,
She’s giving them
She is laying my dowry
On the floor as their beds
I hug the calf
Nestled against the oven
Part of their bodies
They’re going to stop the cannons