Monday, 12 March 2012
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
The launch event at the University of Kent last Tuesday was an a amazing success. We had more than 20 readers from as far afield as Edinburgh and Halifax.Ruth Portway also came along to tell us more about the charity, the work they do is really inspiring.
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Visit our publications page to buy your copy of our amazing new anthology and help to raise funds for international disaster charity Shelterbox.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
The Year of the Tree
I carried a tree
through the Underground.
It was hard. At first,
people scarcely noticed me
and the oak I was lugging
along the platforms –
heavier than a suitcase
and difficult to balance.
We threaded through corridors,
changing lines: up and down stairs,
escalators, and for a moment
I imagined everyone on the planet
to carry a tree as daily rite.
A few people asked
Why a tree?
I said it was for my own
a tree always
has something to teach.
whirred through the corridors
rustling the branches
as I hurried on
past the sweepers
picking up rubbish, scraps of paper.
Be sure to take the tree
with you, they said.
Don’t worry, I’m taking it
to my garden,
the start of a forest.
When people stared,
Relax, I said,
it‘s a tree, not a gun.
(From Carnival Edge: New & Selected Poems, Arc Publications, 2010
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Not Only Dark
Some black holes have a ring of x-rays and visible light surrounding them.
Nothing but dark, I said
as I drew our curtains on the darkness
of the birch tree and the robin singing
a snatch of late song,
and yet light all round.
And you understanding. The paradox
of light and dark, a black hole
and a ring of light,
in the space between teacups at ease
on the table and pyracantha
scratching the window beyond
as the wind blew.
Now on a small hill, that place
of wind and silence, the silence
of futures… trees
cut off distances.
Stones, gravestones are master there.
But arriving home I take up that book
of Chinese art, your inscription A trillion
I turn the pages, find the vase with peaches
showing flowers and fruit together,
as in that paradise where peach blossom
lasted for ever.
Irrelevant paradise? But I read
again your inscription: Perhaps this
is a kind of heaven, the warmth of feeling
light circling a possessed absence.