
Return to the Inferno
Set thirty years in the future As I reclined upon a heavenly cloud, Imbibing a celestial Chianti, I heard a voice crying my name aloud; ‘Twas Virgil in his toga, calling, ‘Dante, There’s work to [more…]
Set thirty years in the future As I reclined upon a heavenly cloud, Imbibing a celestial Chianti, I heard a voice crying my name aloud; ‘Twas Virgil in his toga, calling, ‘Dante, There’s work to [more…]
My Dear Friend, Miss. Pronter, has forgiven, but hardly forgotten, my betise in allowing some of her verses to be put forward here, under a mangled version of her name (‘You claim to be a [more…]
Scorn not the Sonnet Thus wrote Wordsworth, and it’s probably true that sonnets are second only to limericks in the poetry popularity stakes. Both forms have the advantage of being short and memorable. But where [more…]
In weather fit for neither man nor beast, we climb through a northern landscape, sculpted from rock by water, and the detritus from receding ice, to emerge into sunlight. And there we come across a [more…]
Working with data, akin to a science – I’m at odds with my natural leaning To the Arts. A relentless march for proof: to reveal; to rend the veil; a reliance on progress I find [more…]
An old friend of mine, who would eyebrow me, till I’d assured her the dangerous word referred to the length of our acquaintance only, has been for some time working on translations of verses she’s [more…]
The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring. In [more…]
In Part One, I explained that my husband and I travelled to Moelfre, not far from Oswestry, to see a sculptor by the name of Tony Meadows. During that visit, Tony had made an alginate [more…]
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