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the thrush by Desmond Graham
the thrush last night our old thrush in the square descended from the ones who sang to soldiers as they rested from the Roman Wall – safe Syrians who set their bows aside and Belgians br ...
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Middle of the Road by Ross Wilson
Middle of the Road I’ll ha’e nae hauf-way hoose, but aye be whaur Extremes meet – it’s the only way I ken To dodge the curst conceit o’ bein’ richt That damns the vast majority o’ men. – Hugh M ...
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Almost an apology by Simon Rees
Almost an apology In his last weeks I visit my father yellowed by medicine dying more quickly now leaning against the range heating his backside nursing his coffee I breathe leap into th ...
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Earthworms by Gordon Meade
Earthworms for Geoff Wood Earthworms, it seems, are made of tongues, and are able to taste with every inch of their writhing bodies. What a life of joy they must have, and a life of horror, ...
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Into Poetry Is Born
‘The people need poetry that will be their own secret / To keep them awake forever’. So wrote Osip Mandelstam, the great Russian-language poet who perished under Stalin. It seems almost quaint now to ...