A small sample of poems and extracts from Longbarrow published poets. A new selection of poems will be added to this page every month.
Propositions 1 | Kelvin Corcoran
On the Xenophone label
crackling late at night
from the outpost barbarians in the hills
at the beginning as one
Extract from ‘Propositions 1′ in On the Xenophone Label (2009).
Also available: Madeleine’s Letter to Bunting (2009)
My Warm Bedding Cools To Moor | Mark Goodwin
but I am not unsheltered nor chilled this little
bothy condenses its weight of stone blocks
wooden beams slate tiles the bothy clings to
land under wind it is bravery in it & from in it
Extract from ‘My Warm Bedding Cools To Moor’ in Distance a Sudden (2009).
Songs to Make & Mend (#25) | Andrew Hirst
I’ve little to say on the infinite
- it’s midsummer, night rushing toward
its end before it’s hardly even begun.
The time of the peonies’ brief flowering
is soon over and like the single word, alone.
From Songs to Make & Mend (2008). Also available:
Frome I-XII (2007), Frome XXIV (2008)
The Don Potters’ Carousal | Rob Hindle
A hot day and a hot night
and here are two rolling home,
in the morning they will swear
temperance again, rue
their roasted skin.
From ‘The Don Potters’ Carousal’ in The Purging of Spence Broughton, a Highwayman (2009)
The Gulls of Camden | Alistair Noon
Above the gulls the stately
rise of the public jets, the hectic
jog of the government helicopter.
The troubled line to the north
rumbles deep and late.
Extract from ‘The Gulls of Camden’ in Animals and Places (2010).
Also available: The Bronze Horseman (2010)
Edgelands | Matthew Clegg
Drunk, he lags through the city
At night, contemplates a fall
Into each of three rivers.
He sings the names of three lovers
To whom he lost his way back home.
From Edgelands (2008). Also available: Officer (2007), Nobody Sonnets (2008), Lost Between Stations (2011)
Miniatures (ix) | Chris Jones
We come on those born sleeping by the gates,
gravestones tended by solitary dates
dressed with stuck-eyed dolls, tissue frills
for flowers, a paper windmill
I let you spin until it purrs,
before we seek out butterflies and spiders.
From Miniatures (2007). Also available: Cells (with Paul Evans, 2008)
Dark Peak (Sanctus) | James Caruth
Heaven and earth
run to one in the day’s end.
A wind picks up
and dusk hugs the hills.
This is a time of gathering,
a time of disposal.
I take the path for home.
From Dark Peak (2008)