Listen! LOW MILLERGROUND  The shores of Windermere-LowMillerground. I lived there nearly five years and loved the way the sun painted L...

PEOPLE ARE LIKE ICEBERGS     People are like icebergs, bobbing on the sea. Glistering minarets in sun, and dungeons deep beneath. ...

politics 2           politics is that corrupting wind that blows the ship of state to ruin the self-same wind that blows the self-same ...

Just as Tony Blair explains his crimes before the Iraq whitewash sorry enquiry, here's a little poem for politicians everywhere. Bless t...

"A mind that is lively and inquiring, compassionate, curious, angry, full of music, full of feeling, is a mind full of possible poetry...

That space… I love being a woman, and strange as it may seem to some of my sisters, I actually enjoy the ebb and flow of our sacred m...

Here's the final part of Tim's wonderful poem.  Enjoy! Love is a beast of which we all want a piece It cannot be stolen It can...

The second part of Tim's epic poem below.  Enjoy! Is it you who dances so freely in the moonlight? Is it your hands that caress my ...

Tim will be posting here from time to time and I really look forward to his work.  Tim is a dear and longstanding friend and an authentic an...

AND IT IS BEAUTIFUL! Hewn from granite, I was inlaid with copper and silver and gold. Lapis Lazuli my eyes, and burnished well, till sh...

…the whole truth, apple and peach, is rarely placed into your hand and is never, most days, nights.. . within reach. fate ties a blindfold, ...

HALLOWEEN  The village store has, just this minute, closed. It’s drawbridge has gone up-portcullis down. An aproned granny smirks behind ...

QUESTION TIME AND OLD NICK                By Tony Dougan No doubt it was an event. The leader of Albion’s closest thing to a fascist pa...

"on the road.. . There are no desks. or bookcases. or boxes of photographs, keepsakes, angel...

Hi Folks, Ok I admit it I'm running out of puff sometimes on the hills.  My endurance isn't what it used to be and my timing is som...

Arnaut Daniel The Sestina, a lovely name for a lovely, if somewhat tortuous poetic form.  Invented by the French thirteenth century poet ...

ANGER RITUAL IN THE FIELD OF DREAMS I say: ‘Let’s get this out into the World!’ And you; a little scared, ask how it’s done. And, wit...

This is the kind of drivel that makes my blood boil. Why? Why can't I just shake my head and pass on by? Because this Law of Attraction ...

I love sonnets; little balls of poetic gold they are. And they are quite ancient forms too, first created by Petrarch around 1235 or so, an...

Stephen Covey published his book in 1989 and it's been a bestseller ever since. I wrote these habits down several years ago and kept the...

I promised some time ago to write a short piece about how I personally organise my writing and my projects. I'm by no means suggesting t...

Some poems dip toes into little pools of darkness. Others just dive in, to rivers of shit. As Jung memorably said- we do not grow by turni...

I felt a frozen thought fall from the book shelves. Morning light danced on the carpet as it crawled across the floor and wound its way ups...

I wrote recently that I would unpack a poem from my impending collection to indicate a bit about how it emerges from the chrysalis of though...

Jen Hadfield is the youngest poet ever to win the T S Eliot Prize. She is prodigiously gifted as a poet, and has a voice that melts the leg...