We get to know each other first, talk about books and reading until some children are fit to burst, they’re so keen to find out what I’m offering. I take out a book and the child says ‘Easy!’, explores the cover, reads the title, explains what they think it’s all about, and then we read […]
Tag: Poets United
Castle on the Knoll
My Norman walls have overseen the bustling market for centuries. I’ve witnessed war and rebellion, wealth and famine, the flourishing of Norwich as a fine city. I harbour ancient treasures, chronicle the lives and times of citizens: some were imprisoned in my dungeons, while others hung from my walls for all to see. Ghosts linger […]
Better than nothing at all
Back in the seventies when I was a student in Cologne, I submitted poems to various publications; some were published, and others returned with the usual brief note about the poem(s) not being the right fit for an edition or anthology. I once received a short letter from Zoe Fairbairns when she edited Spare Rib, […]
August Poppies
Blood red blooms line dusty country lanes, they dot the village verge, and a meadow explodes into a rippling scarlet sea. Here and there blow pale pink blooms, their blushes fading in the sun, papery ghosts haunting tired fields. Dog day heat has scorched the brittle fields, the only shade is found in leafy lanes, […]
Televised Childhood
My TV memories are mostly in black and white, that’s how we saw the world when I was a child, how newscasters would present each triumph, each disaster. I couldn’t see the difference on the wobbly monochrome screen between grief and joy, now and then; but we were taught that a cowboy in a white […]
Sea Threat
Miles from the shore, we sleep secure, drifting on dreams like boats or moonbeams, undisturbed by the sound of waves or shifting ground. On the coast, rocky reefs, laced with cuffs of sand and foam, protect the land, waver with the ebb and flow, the pull of undertow, resist the locomotion of the powerful ocean. […]
Stitching Wichita
She had spent all her adult life holding a needle and thread. She had sewed and embroidered all her trousseau and her wedding dress by hand; stitched up holes in shirts and overalls; darned her stockings and his socks until her eyes smarted. Every evening, the needle in her fingers went up and down, like […]
Winter Knitting
Mornings are for writing any time of year; early light and birdsong inspire images and words. But on winter evenings, when chilly draughts catch me unawares, knitting needles and a ball of brightly coloured yarn keep me cheered and warm. Their gentle click is comforting and I enjoy the counting of stitches and rows that […]
The Spilling
Just when I’ve learnt to read the landscape carefully: the flight of birds and growth of plants, the arrangement of furrowed fields and coppiced hedges; now that I’ve mastered its punctuation with quiet glee: the question mark of church, comma of farmhouse, full stop of village and parentheses of trees; nature spills her evening ink […]
Dance Like the Universe
If I could dance like the universe, I hope I would be partnered with planets, I’d execute a perfect grand jete […]
writing in north norfolk 