A hole looks into a hollow
A collection of poems that I wrote for North Light Arts about a forest called Woodhall Dean Swallowed by a ship The bough, borne in a...
The mountain above the wood
It is winter and I put my walking boots on before setting out. It is early and just me and Matt. 'Have you got the compass and the map,'...
The lady at the well
The lady at the well has carried this water for decades. She lives north and the fields and hills roll on to meet the sky. Her land is...
The figure head
The figure head Held up by ribs, fixed to bow. She looks up, looks out and dips down. Her wooden pins hold, the hollow oak, the wave and...
Heart and Hand
A new poem written in response to a conversation about autonomy at the end of life with Dr Ben Colburn, and a reflection on a potter. You...
