Loading cart contents...
Author / Jon Woolcott
![]()
Threads, a community poem
Red, it’s my colour,
the cuffs rippling in the wind,
Hung lazily off an arm.
![]()
Eisteddfod! And the Welsh Language Landscape by Julie Brominicks
The bus had cruised north, Y Rhinogydd crisply defined. We collected a musician sucking vodka through a straw at Porthmadog
![]()
Searching for Life in a Burial Chamber by Elizabeth Black
I felt buoyed by its energy as I descended towards the village and saw Silbury Hill appear singularly in the distance.
![]()
Robin Walter reads Arbor Vitae
Robin Walter reads his poem Arbor Vitae.
![]()
On Rain and Washing by Rebecca Smith
I was interested in the men who built this incredible feat of engineering, and the families they brought with them.
![]()
A Symphony of Ancient Trees by Laura Parker
The trees that remained had recently witnessed revelries wild enough to rival any modern music festival.
![]()
The Yellow Bittern by David Higgins
Bitterns are easier to hear than to see. What tends to be heard, though, is not their ‘cry / In the wild sky’, but the male’s remarkable booming call emerging from reedbeds in the breeding season.
![]()
In High Places by Julia Brigdale
a jet fighter appeared out of the north-west sky and slashed through the air directly overhead.
![]()
Glass and Stone by Chris Baker
The stone wall was broken. The sides were bulging outwards, elbowed aside by tree roots snaking through the wall’s interior.
![]()
Canticle for the Creatures by Ian Tattum
the symbols…have a life of their own; they shape shift with time and experience.
![]()
A walk along Chesil by Sarah Acton
A new podcast in which the writer Sarah Acton takes a walk along Chesil beach.
![]()
Waiting for the bird apocalypse by Jasmine Donahaye
The first dead guillemot was on its back, plump and shining, its white breast and belly glossy and wet.
Loading posts...
You May Also Like
Harry and Pierse by Hana LoftusWhat drew Becker to crouch in the fields day after day, obsessively documenting his neighbours as they worked? […]- Montol and Midwinter Light by Ysella SimsWe wind through the streets, the rain giving way to the winds of the next winter storm. […]
- The Lost Dens of Leicester by Sharon TyersSixty years later, I often find myself deep within our den in my dreams. […]
