Poetry

“It was thirty minutes to midnight.

Harvest moon heavy in the quietening sky,

Blood orange whispers in the trees,

Sealed by the humming rhythm of the glass,

The bus engine playing jazz.”

 

By Sara Young

Your voice; once tender, now cuts me.

And into my life this hurt, this uncertainty, bleeds.

In my fragility I leant on your distortion,

You trampled on my voice.

Now I trample upon it too.”

Doe

By Jordan Stead

“Immolate

Like a dying star

In his darkness –”

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By Jodie Cumming

“This wilting willow will perish

For inside, is a flourishing seed.”

By Ian Macartney

“Candle-glow. Imagination 

at the edge of the warm ocean.”

Here with the terminally bald

I think of old Sarum

Discover a city of Poetry​

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POETRY HERE

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