I’m really excited to announce that I’ll be running my annual Residential Poetry Course down in St Ives in 2018 with the fabulous Helen Mort as my co-tutor. The course will be running from 9th-14th April 2018, and I’ll be…
Sunday Poem – Kate Wakeling
I had beautiful clear-white pages in my diary this week. It has been the first week in ages I’ve not been gallivanting around the place. I spent a large portion of it doing my tax return, or more accurately, filling…
Tŷ Newydd and That Report
Last week, I saw via a post on Facebook that an Independent Review of Support for Publishing and Literature in Wales had been published. Within those pages the Tŷ Newydd Creative Writing Centre had received damaging criticism, which is so at…
Sunday Poem – Pauline Yarwood
This week I’ve spent a bit of time planning my summer holidays. In August, I’m off to Macedonia to read at the Struga Poetry Festival, as part of the Versopolis project. I’ll be at the festival for nearly a week,…
Sunday Poem – Katie Hale
This morning, my lovely husband said ‘Let’s have an easy Sunday today and not go for a long walk’ (which was what we’d planned). Ok, I said, thinking longingly of the multiple episodes of Love Island I have to catch…
Sunday Poem – Emily Blewitt
It’s been a pretty full-on week this week! Yesterday I had a lovely poetry marathon, like I used to in the Olden Days. I started off doing 5k at park run – I thought I would have a good go…
Sunday Poem – Ayelet Mckenzie
I’m writing this in the back garden today – it’s vaguely sunny here in Barrow, and now I’m running again, I like being outdoors most of the time. I’m not sure if it’s to do with circulation or what, but…
Sunday Poem – John Mee
Technically it’s not Sunday anymore, but having spent the whole weekend running Kendal Poetry Festival, and as the days have blurred and lost their usual boundaries, I figured I would just post this weeks Sunday Poem anyway, and depend on…
Sunday Poem – Arthur Broomfield
I’m writing today after last night’s terrible events in London. It feels like there isn’t anything I can say that would mean anything. The 24 hour news cycle, the constant speculation, the grilling of obviously traumatised eye witnesses by news…
Sunday Poem – Polly Atkin
I’m writing my blog in the garden today. Our ‘half a hawthorn’ tree (the neighbour chops it in half because it hangs over our fence) is valiantly putting out blossom on our side of the garden, just in the lower…