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 ...
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 ...
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 ...
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, ...
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 ...