Bit of a longshot but I’m looking at the application process involved in the Today programme guest editing opportunity (link to information on the BBC Today programme site here >>> CLICK ). I can’t get a response from Poetry Please when I’ve suggested an episode promoting more contemporary poetry written for children (and the production…
Category: Poetry
The Milk House …
Best Poem 2022 Winners Announced By Ryan Dennis December 28, 2022 The votes for Best Poem 2022 on The Milk House are in. With an extremely strong shortlist for the award, it is not surprising that the results were close. Judge Nicki Griffin has determined the Judge’s Choice for best poem, and you, the audience of The Milk House, has…
The Milk House
Here’s a bit of news … Over at the rural poetry collective website, The Milk House, they have started a new yearly best poem competition. Judged blind, from the collection uploaded in 2022, poet Nicki Griffin has shortlisted ten poems that made the most favourable impact on her and that list has now been made…
Clearance
In the wreckage of a house clearance,a face distorts in a fractured glass eye.Painted on gesso and northern white pine,old acrylic eyelashes flash a recognition. Stippled like a stormy summer,worn and battered flanks shiver in the dust.A torn rosette from a forgotten fetehangs by a mane, shabby and faded. Familiar sounds echo in the room:the…
Multiple Choice
Multiple Choice I took the test again today. Turned on Radio Four.Listened to a story about the homeless.Then came kids orphaned by bomb blastsin another country.But that was too hard,so I moved on … Started up the car instead of doing the walking thing;it was raining and I needed stuff from the supermarket.Saw a dead…
Drifting
Drifting Light seeps through cracked lashes.The new day’s tide sweeps a winter beach,debris left on rippled sandforms a room of furniturein a head weighed with questions. Out of frozen vaults of memory,a canvas dragged into the morning sunthaws slowly, mixed colour through frostleaching out in blurred patcheson old bones in a strange bed. Who owns…
The Tale of Boris Snot, the Horrible and Vile
An ogre known as Boris Snotthe Horrible and Vilelooked every inch a monsterwith his grotty, beastly style. At eight foot tall with mottled skinand voice so very loud,his gruffness frightened folkand Boris stood out in a crowd. Yet Boris was a nice guyand just craved a quiet life;to have a break from pitchfork mobsand other…
Poems #3
Invitation To Move On I am small in the sea, pushed aroundby waves that care not for any grain of sandor stuff that floats in old men’s heads. Arms held wide and high, that reach and clinglike a child to a parent when things get rough,when routines fail and muscles waste. I hesitate, recoil, cower;…
Poems #2
Multiple Choice I took the test again today. Turned on Radio Four.Listened to a story about the homeless.Then came kids orphaned by bomb blastsin another country.But that was too hard,so I moved on … Started up the car instead of doing the walking thing;it was raining and I needed stuff from the supermarket.Saw a dead…
Poems #1
Yew In search of yew in Borrowdalethat shared the sun with Judas,I walk a rutted path, aware of twinges, snares, rocks,carrying your paints and easelalong with this bowl of words, no longer fit for consumption,mould festering in knotsfrom sour touching fruit within. And if these words were berries,gardeners would stand disappointedat the canker in the…
DB Anthology News Update
It is now one year since I wrote a blog entry about the possibility of setting up a poetry bank to help plug a publication gap for poets who write for children. In August 2021, there followed an announcement through an article in the Yorkshire Times that the inaugural launch of The Dirigible Balloon (the…
Incoming … World Curlew Day 2022
Incoming I am not your enemy dear messenger,but still your intent feels murderous. And though your reckless, adrenalinefuelled passes and dopplered cries have sent these old instincts into fullflight mode, my head disappearing into my shoulders, my sixty year oldbody separated from my bicycle to lie expediently on this damp grassy bank,I cannot help but…
Jonathan Humble 