Loading cart contents...
-
![]()
The Seven Mile Straight by Carrie Rhys-Davies
I am forty two years old and it’s a vividly hot afternoon early in September 2021.
-
![]()
Seasonal Rituals by Philip Strange
These late autumn starling displays have also become, for me, part of the seasonal rituals of Cogden Beach
-
![]()
Losing Your Place by Sue Clifford and Angela King
Questing for local distinctiveness must err towards the inclusive and welcoming, it is not about designating areas more beautiful or more derelict or worthy of grants.
-
![]()
Knife by Sarah-Jane Dobner
Bend down and pinch a ripple of skin. It’s warm and springy, taut to the body.
-
![]()
Orchards and places by Common Ground
In fact, many of the well known varieties have grown-up purely by chance, from discarded pips or stones.
-
![]()
Wool, a short essay by Amelia Hodsdon
Once upon a time, sheep in the fields here, in their sheepcots on the wolds, were the source of fortunes.
-
![]()
Solastalgia Flights by Julia Brigdale
Our childhoods were a lie I now see, our memories, skewed. And therein lies the problem.
-
![]()
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.
-
![]()
Banal Utopia by JC Niala
Allotments are also utopias, because they are impossible spaces. They are rural artefacts that migrated to the city with their people.
Loading posts...
You May Also Like
Mono by Laura ParkerIn midsummer we march between the stiffly regimented wheat across a level horizon. […]
Trophies by Graham MortSwifts have been returning to the village for centuries. […]
Calling Time by David Hinchliffe Bradford...he would dote on his beloved species and take up arms against others. […]