How do you like your Poetry? Richly allusive, with detectable rhythm, a certain musicality about it? Or do you prefer a stripped-down, unembellished terseness-to-the-point-of-inarticulacy, a Tacitean, telegraphic brevity? Whichever, preference is yours, would you consider [more…]
It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and [more…]
From Aston Rowant to Kingston Blount From halt to halt, it beetled west For miles below the Chiltern crest A country line, of no account .. Now trains no longer skirt these hills And fencing [more…]
Based on a lyrical passage in The Oxford, Gloucester and Milford Haven Road, by Charles G Harper. Harper’s entire oeuvre of “Road” books has long been out of print, but no travel writer I know [more…]
I’m in service at the Big House Left school when just fourteen Started as a scullery maid – Left mam -my crowded home Timid, shy, first time away, Prayed Cook would not be mean. My [more…]
Gran toils on In the foreman’s house The old black range is always lit Her foreman husband, live in hands With horses plough and reap and sow. Flour comes in half stone sacks Making bread [more…]
‘LOVE THOU THY LAND’: TENNYSON LOVE thou thy land, with love far-brought From out the storied Past, and used Within the Present, but transfused Thro’ future time by power of thought. True love turn’d round [more…]
I’ve often heard Puffins lament that they would like to contribute articles to our esteemed website but are too daunted. So, I thought I’d share a few tips to encourage more Puffins to pick up [more…]
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