No, I will not make your mother scramble
up onto the roof to fix the loose tiles …

In this week’s poem, Yorkshireman Terry Jones embraces cultural diversity and takes inspiration from a Lancastrian icon. Read The Mother-in-Law>>

Despite the cold snap, Carolyn Richardson’s sap is rising.

Read her poem, Winter is running out of time>>

Short and sharp, sweet and sour – South Lakeland’s former Poet Laureate Maggie Norton gets her ticket punched en route to Penrith in A Late Love Poem>>

The nearest you can get to loft living in Carlisle, Shaddon or Dixon’s Mill is now a huge block of swanky apartments, itself dwarfed by the defiant finger of Dixon’s Chimney. Kathleen Jones’s great grandad knew it before the floors were sanded.

Read the poem, Dixon’s Mill>>

From Back o’ Skiddaw to the roof of the world – in this week’s poem, the well-travelled Angela Locke reflects on journeys corporeal, spiritual, and political.

Read the poem, After the sky burial: Tibet>>

Here for the weekend, you ask where the young
hang out nights in this back-of-beyond place …

This week, Martin Malone explains why the young folks are leaving the lovely village of Maulds Meaburn. Jobs? Education? Night life? No – they can’t get a phone signal …

Read the poem, Meaburn>>

Dusk in a wintry garden, somewhere in the Lake District, finds Mike Smith in meditative mood:

Winter grants me this at least, here in the garden:
to see the night come slowly on,
overwhelming all mountains and the lake … read more>>

In this week’s poem, Malcolm Carson is back in a Belfast classroom, snookered by Latin vocabulary and attracting some routine intimidation.

Read the poem – Mille passus>>

This week, Jon Tait remembers a strange encounter in an American shopping mall. At least, we’re assuming it was American, and not The Lanes in Carlisle.

Read the poem>>

John North gives us a road poem, journeying west to east across the scrawny neck of the kingdom through rain and reivers until the road runs out at the cold North Sea.

Read Drive Out from Carlisle>>

The last wolf in England snuffed it in a few places, depending on which legend you believe, including Humphrey Head – a finger of limestone that points into the Cumbrian mud of Morecambe Bay opposite John Fox’s house on stilts on the shore.

Mr Fox is on the trail of Mr Wolf … follow the paw prints>> >> >

Summer 2011: can the sound of breaking glass in Manchester’s Arndale Centre be heard in the Lyth Valley? Pauline Yarwood’s left the door open, and she’s uneasy.

Read the poem, Across the door frame>>

In this week’s poem, Michael Baron is one of Two Men In A Boat on Loweswater. His companion is his autistic son.

The Weekly Poem is published in our e-newsletter, The Weekly Word – to subscribe, just enter your details into the boxes on the right (below the calendar) and click on the button. Read the poem>>