Blue is a memory of days at primary school: of dipping pens into inkwells, the scratch of italic nibs, and a summer sky outside the classroom window, copying a poem by Blake or some old poet on lined paper, a blue tint of words. Blue was the colour of our uniform, much darker than ink, […]
Day: November 27, 2019
Nettles
We are not subtle, although we blend, green in the midst of green, our sting, our poison bating our green breath with not a quiver. Hiding in the green, we remain unseen, waiting pungently for a patch of skin a recipient for our histamine; we long to puncture a scarlet tattoo, stinging souvenirs. Our hairy, […]
writing in north norfolk 