The Weekly Poem #50

I missed you by a quarter of an hour.
I should have hurried through my morning shower,
missed eating breakfast in the sleepy sun
or read no emails, or replied to none …

Sue Millard’s granddaughter Naomi died last year of a rare form of cancer – Wilms’ tumour – six weeks before her sixth birthday. ‘Missing’ is the harrowing yet cathartic poem written in response. Read more>>

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The Weekly Poem #49

The children are ahead, pretending to be adults
walking and talking fast.
We are dressed like old people.
Even our stooped shoulders look real.

At a time of year when many parents have just deposited their children outside university halls of residence, Elizabeth Stott puts her eye to the other end of the telescope in Alumni>>

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September Sonnets

Deborah Parkin’s distinctively edgy and atmospheric black and white photographs of her children are complemented by a series of poems written especially for her exhibition at Keswick’s Theatre by the Lake.

Read more>>

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The Weekly Poem #48

Diamond shoes meet the Diamond Sutra in the latest Weekly Poem, in which Angela Locke meditates on the business of worldly attachments, moving from material desire to something altogether higher and, paradoxically, more humble.

Read her poem, The Diamond Sutra and the Duchess of Windsor’s Shoes>>

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The Weekly Poem #47

Don’t giggle at its shape –
girls have had babies with vegetables before …

If RS Thomas had been a lass, would he have written something like Josie Shinn’s ‘Supper in Wales’? Just a thought. Probably a stupid one. To see what we mean, click here>>

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The Weekly Poem #46

The blue sky
is a round wet mouth …

Phoebe Power’s love poem might be called ‘Maybe’, but there’s no maybe about the poetry – it’s definitely hitting the spot. But don’t take our word for it – get it read>>

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The Weekly Poem #45

Poet Clare Crossman grew up in Cumbria and lived here for many years before relocating to the flatlands of Cambridgeshire, and then leafy Hertfordshire.

You can take the woman out of Cumbria etc – and in this week’s poem, she’s back On Cold Fell>>

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The Weekly Poem #44

Maybe we should have waited until the autumn to publish this fruity little piece by Geoffrey Smith. It’s about picking raspberries in the rain, but that could easily be now, couldn’t it?

Anyway, have a sip of Framboise>>

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The Weekly Poem #43

Broadcasting from cosmopolitan Cockermouth, Jeremy Over tunes into a European dada-di-da groove and messes about with words and wards off sense in the usual sense of the word and comes out on the other side.

Read The Fine Art of Writing>>

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The Weekly Poem #42

She clutches her handbag
as though it were a shield,
empty except for a faded photograph …

In this week’s poem, Martin A Chambers takes an unflinching look at old age and dementia – I’m only here till my lad comes home>>

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The Weekly Poem #41

It’s like a birthing for only three quid,
and without the attendant juju:
the attendant’s in overalls here,
who foams your wheel arches with his lance …

Talk about finding poems in unlikely places – Peter Rafferty’s been to the Carwash>>

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The Weekly Poem #40

From the Pennines to the Pyrenees – having a little place in France is, thankfully, giving Brough poet Sue Kindon more than a little something to casually drop into conversations at dinner parties.

She could get used to it, and she’s Settling In>>

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The Weekly Poem #39

‘… let the white mouth of the snowcloud eat me …’

From Ulverston to Patagonia – Paul Kingsnorth wrote his prize-winning poem ‘Vodudahue Mountain’ whilst travelling in one of the world’s best-preserved wilderness areas.

Read the poem>>

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