In memory of Les Murray

I was saddened to hear of the death of the Australian poet Les Murray yesterday. In the autumn of 1997, … More

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I wrote the poem below in the summer of 2015. David Cameron had won a slim majority in the … More

Dear Alicia I can’t believe it is three years since I got to hang out with you at Totleigh … More

after Shawna Lemay Write a poem about the rain. Or the wind. Write about what you learned at university. … More

Dear Ted Hughes You probably won’t remember me. I wrote to you before, in the summer of 1998. I did … More

after Mark Halliday Because of the writing days. And because The discovery will not happen on its own, unprompted, … More

‘I’m trying again. A man has to begin over and over – to try to think and feel only in … More

Towards the end of her Greenbelt Festival poetry reading Q and A with Sasha Dugdale in 2017, Rebecca Goss said … More

I always think of myself as working at a rock face. Ninety days out of ninety five, it’s just a … More

A line that has really been haunting me recently is ‘Horses turned out into a cold field have it’ from … More

I am not sure how this is going to turn out. It was something somebody said in response to my … More

Waiting for the Barbarians What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum? The barbarians are due here today. … More

Going There is an evening coming in Across the fields, one never seen before, That lights no lamps. Silken … More

’Have you seen my coat?’ says the book. ’Nope. You seen mine?’ ’Nope. You look tired. Are you tired?’ ’You … More

‘What’s happening?’ ’Nothing,’ I say. ’Doesn’t look like nothing,’ the book says. ‘It looks like you’re brooding. Are you brooding?’ … More

‘Something looks different,’ the book says. ‘Have you been shaving again?’ ‘You can talk,’ I say. ‘As it happens, … More

I was in a waiting room, having cycled, a bit out of breath, a book on my knee, trying to … More

I am deeply honoured to have my poem When The Holy Spirit Danced With Me In My Kitchen used as a … More