1. Articles
  2. Poetry
  3. (Page 4)

24.06.16

Articles, Poetry
    Red kites, native to Turkey, Morocco, and parts of Europe, were declared ‘vermin’ by the English crown and…

Occupation

Articles, Poetry
  So, I turned to lens cutting for a living. Corrective work, in a time of short- sightedness. ————–An astigmatic…

Chevening

Poetry
  This is the real England, I say, so what do you think? It’s a place of trees; of apple,…

Sibelius

Poetry
  It’s January. A swan’s wing overhead reminds you of his fifth but also of his death, that skein breaking…

Low Altitude

Poetry
  Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure. ————————————— — Rumi   I fly at a delicately-low…

Second Sight

Poetry
  He’s come to see me off. Limps up the platform after me. I lose sight of him while I…

Kintsukuroi

Poetry
  —The cracked bowl that I mean to repair everyday keeps getting neglected by my secret awe for bone china…

The Whales

Poetry
  Any day now, they will rise again through their cauldron of green bubbles – the gulls lifting off and…

The New Tenants

Poetry
  When we go the ivy will slam a fist through the double glazing, push its fingers in between the…

Aunt Amy’s Parasol

Poetry
  For such a sombre woman it strikes an unexpected note of frivolity, with those flamboyant stripes of pink, white,…

To Pause

Poetry
  This morning, almost in spite of myself, hearing church bells riding the winds, I wonder how many centuries the…

To Listen

Poetry
  We are listening to the last of the cicadas, In June we woke to their raucous applause, drowning the…

Ring of Brodgar

Poetry
  Asking a blessing of stone. Nestled in a blaze, blue water and a cup of soft heathered hills, Orkney’s…

The Tulips

Poetry
The Tulips enter like a corps de ballet crimson and violet vivid as wax crayons. Heads held high in expectation…

To Climb

Poetry
To Climb from Latin ascendere: to rise. Ah! – worn down Delos, you lie in the late sun, comatose. A…

Line-Drawing

Poetry
  for Ken Cold, measured, you drew your father while he lay dying, teasing him into the perfection of your…

Queen of the North

Poetry
  to Auntie Dorothy She was the postcard, then the sea that we competed to be the first to see.…

Mistral

Poetry
  It comes at three and the Rhône runs upstream. All the quay lamps disappear by Pont du Trinquetaille at…
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