Egg Box, the publishing offshoot at University of East Anglia have just launched this anthology. There are some stunning poems in this from an amazing cohort of students. As one of the people on the course I have had some of my original poems included too, (poems not published on line).
Thank you to all my blog readers for reading, following, liking and commenting. Your encouragement is very much appreciated.
If you are interested in buying a copy, the anthology is available from www.eggboxpublishing.com
(Brexit will affect prices of the book for EU-based customers, which is a nonsense, obviously!).
the wave breaks coughs up kelp splashes shingle up the beach rolls stones over brushes out sand catches air in pockets marks the tideline in thick foamy spume leaves with a hiss of bursting bubbles slips back into itself gathers in its pleats to unfurl them again backfilling our footprints proving nothing waits for us
at first sight old older than you and me much older Walking hand in hand as we might from time to time in moments unconnected by conversation
they stopped momentarily so she could stoop to pick up a pebble or a shell, or a flint, or to investigate a wave-shined glint of something that caught her imagination as he waited to be shown her find
at first sight old older than you and me but now not at all not as old as fossilised sea urchins not as ancient as bellemnite-bored chalk they were just like us two more children playing by the sea
right in the hand perfectly balanced as if part of my arm slicing the air slicing my doubts opening my skin bare to my heart opening me up letting light pour in
this is when I feel it most the air thick with mist desiccated leaves scratching at paving slabs
fine webs strung between damp blades covering verges except where disturbed by fungi pushing through to pour out spores by the million
tonight there is no lunar distraction just railway siding lights, street lights, traffic lights, headlights, crossing lights red lights topping off a crane a ceiling light in an uncurtained room each corner bared without shame
above all this electric illumination beyond the mist, night's black chasm with Jupiter and its satellites bright the redness of Mars distinct even to my tired eyes
I'm nearly home, it's midnight a digital sign tells me +17c all I need to know is when you'll next see me
This is Woking ...if you see something that doesn't look right speak to a member of staff or contact British Transport Police text 61016 see it say it sorted this is your conductor welcome aboard this South-West Trains service to London Waterloo you can find me towards the middle of this ten coach train the next stop will be London Waterloo estimated time of arrival at our final destination is 14:22
Woking, this is Woking
Looks ordinary enough so, why are the Tories at war with Woking?
it's been so still humid air weighing on us all weary from sleepless nights from self-medicated sleep from restless waking from waking alone
and now the leaves move trees sigh at their relief the wind tunes up wheezy gaps in windows and doors ajar asthmatic whistling of telephone cables clinking lines on masts waves thick enough to roll the shingle to slap the seawall spit over its parapet and bounce back to sea
this cool sou'westerly freshens up the air brings on the rain brings me sleep alone or not
