8 Clerihews Defaming* Sir Ed Davey
I. L. Literate returns with another 8 clerihews mocking Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey, whom not a lot of you will have noticed. (A clerihew is a poem consisting of two rhyming couplets with [… read more ]
I. L. Literate returns with another 8 clerihews mocking Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey, whom not a lot of you will have noticed. (A clerihew is a poem consisting of two rhyming couplets with [… read more ]
By Philip Wilson Pencil sharpness Creates a likeness Of you, not by its pointed tip But by its story it brings to our lips Profile pictures Are now accepted fixtures In society They give [… read more ]
S&C regular and admired local poet Richard Williams will be launching his new collection, Landings, at the Square Tower, Old Portsmouth on Thursday 20th September at 7.30pm. S&C poetry editor and Ted Hughes Prize winner [… read more ]
At 2 a.m. I saw her – She hung her body like meat in the entrance to the pier – that pleasure palace. She’s haloed by a streetlamp opposite Peggy Sue’s. She takes my [… read more ]
– a little wax from melted candle – a gentle press – feather on frame we near completion. at the edge, we pray for guidance and hope the artifice holds. will a playful stroke’s [… read more ]
Superior the knowing human glance that dreams, in lightly jostling verticals, ideas that make the candelabras dance, the whitened tips of candle flames that call to mind a burning icy chalice raised beneath the [… read more ]
By Helen Larham I have always loved him despite his neglect so when I stepped out onto the sea he bore my full weight, everything: All those times I had ventured in and they [… read more ]
By Maggie Sawkins, Star & Crescent’s Poetry Editor. The fir cone I picked from a Corsican forest, carried across an ocean nestled between balls of socks, has fallen from the grate and rests where it [… read more ]
By the First Act Recovery Group which meets every Saturday at Portsmouth Central Library. I used to be a twig but now I’m a tree I used to be a room but now I’m a [… read more ]
‘stirring Dull roots with spring rain.’ T S Eliot Rude, splayed fingers of unstoppable purpose, intruding indecently into the shy atmosphere. Not taking no for an answer, they displace the proprieties, lifting the flower-nub up, [… read more ]
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