Publications

Dolphins

How many years were we so close, passing by
these same villages on family drives:
the harbour, the beach, climbing rocks unseeing
beyond our own world. No helpful signs back then
that such wonders we thought existed only
on TV were chasing shoals along this same stretch,
each summer. Fleeting moments missed – a gift
for that day – blessing anew a pastime and place.

Decades later, you returned. Further north,
nearer to shore, soon alone. But reaching out
and shown the seasons’ rhythm, you happened
upon them in those same haunts. On my annual
visits, I still stand where I used to stand
looking out to claim what was always there.

Peter Burrows

Peter Burrows’ poems have appeared widely. His poem Tracey Lithgow was shortlisted for theHedgehog Press 2019 Cupid’s Arrow Poetry Prize, and he was a co-winner in the Hedgehog Press 2019 Tree Poets Nature anthology.

http://www.peterburrowspoetry.wordpress.com

He tweets @Peter_Burrows74

https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/news/our-pick-scotlands-east-coast-beaches/0015893/ photo credit

Starfish

Draped akimbo
on warm stone, limp as
gingerbread
or Hands of Glory –

after turn of tide
left curled in yellow buckets
drying out, old socks
beside a picnic:

in half light
as day recedes
something stirs –
nothing to see

they lift
as one
and flit,

weary spaceships
far from home.

Pippa Little

Pippa Little has two collections, Overwintering (Carcanet 2012) and Twist (Arc 2017). She runs reflective writing workshops for first year Newcastle University students for the Royal Literary Fund. Her poetry is widely published in magazines, on radio, film and in anthologies. She leads poetry workshops, mentors and writes reviews. She tweets @pippalittle1

Photo credit @mattartz at http://www.unsplash.com

WE WALK THE BEACH

That day on the beach at Llandanwg.
The sky pressing itself against the sea,
pushed waves from the other side
of this eye we call earth. Our soles grappled
with pebbles, eyesight – splintered by
the lemon light. We talked with the gulls
that promised rain but brought a gust.
Seaweed – wet dreadlocks of a history
we have never seen. Jellyfish, solder blobs
of a tide that took away last night’s stars.
Left us with a horizon that flamed itself
far out, far out, but we carried on
along the pregnant curve of water
in hope the pebbles thin to sand
allow our steps to print the sky.
My right shoulder held the pots of houses
that hem a village that is split by a road,
we will use to travel home.
Mountains were lizard teeth against a froth
of cloud. People’s kitchen voices gobbled up
by the waves hush. We carried on. Knowing
on my left, a liquid tongue, licks away
at a place we all call home.

Gareth Culshaw

Gareth lives in Wales. His first collection came out in 2018 by Futurecycle called The Miner. In 2020, his second collection, Shadows of Tryfan is released. He is an MFA student at Manchester Met. Also nominated for Best of the Net. Gareth’s first collection, ‘The Miner’ is available now at: http://gcwculshaw.moonfruit.com/

He tweets @Culshawpoetry1

YouTube Channel – Gareth Culshaw Poetry – https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TZHzyZDnBU4

Photo credit by Emma Leeke ~ https://dioni.co.uk/cottages/traditional-seaside-holiday-cottage-in-llandanwg-glan-y-mor/attachment/llandanwg-beach-nearby/

The Collectors

Brighton beach, midsummer,
the elements caress each other,
as if winning attention is a great competition.
Which piece of plastic shines brightest on the rocks?

Beneath a steel grey sky, beside gunmetal shimmer,
we walk, leaning into the wind, ice-cream and fairings
our worthy ballast. We carry the remains in a sturdy cloth bag.

Busily, a man with a machine sweeps the foreshore,
swooping, arcs mapping the day’s contours,
holding hopes of a worthy hoard.
He tries to constellate things back together.

Beneath his breath, my son whispers,
he’ll only find bottle tops and other problems
My eyes question, so he continues to tell me the truth.
We reach for our black bag and make our own collection.
a few wrappers from France, a bottle that maybe Chinese.

Besides, I know what real treasure is,
and he raises a shining pebble – here –
between finger and thumb is a miracle of time.
I pick up rope and fishing line, disentangle a crab,
long dead, ensnared by mistake, never rescued.

We are shaped by the circular breathing seas.
In that moment, I know that a child’s wisdom is right.
There will never be conflict with nature for me.
One person cannot hold it back, yet each time we visit,
like others, we kneel in prayer and gather debris.

Brighton beach, midsummer,
grey sea, hard sky, bringing me all the lessons I need,
the challenges of having enough and cleaning up,
to keep the magic and wonder possible to hold,
in a small hand’s grasp.

Alison Jones

Alison Jones is a teacher, and writer with work published in a variety of places, from Poetry Ireland Review, Proletarian Poetry and The Interpreter’s House, to The Green Parent Magazine and The Guardian. She has a particular interest in the role of nature in literature and is a champion of contemporary poetry in the secondary school classroom. Her pamphlet, ‘Heartwood’ was published by Indigo Dreams in 2018, with a second pamphlet. ‘Omega’, and a full collection forthcoming in 2020.
https://www.indigodreams.co.uk/alison-jones/4594492474

Photo credit @bjhguenn at http://www.unsplash.com

Seaside

at seven gob full of sticky
pink cloud, sucks on column
of lettered sugar, giggles
in mechanical whirl.

at seventeen lugs full of raucous beat
fills our no confidence,
and, if lucky, a fumble
in the wet between her thighs
beneath the pier.

at fifty seven, another beach
of quiet silver haired contentment
a bench of rich silence
to admire the soft waves lap
and digest a good meal.

Paul Brookes

Paul Brookes is a shop asst. His chapbooks include The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). He edits The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews. He tweets @PaulDragonwolf1

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/

https://m.facebook.com/PaulBrookesWriter

Photo credit @jcreamer898 at http://www.unsplash.com

One Summer: Orcas in the Bay

We began excitedly moving out of the sea —
not in a furious tumble the way
we would at the sight of a shark.

Lines of cars stopped on the road,
people climbing out to raise their hands
above their eyes.

A swirling fracas as they thrashed under the waves.
The huge male surfacing in front of us barely
ten feet away.

‘Probably hunting something. Most likely stingrays,’
someone said.

And after, it felt as if we’d been pumped with helium.
As if earth’s gravity had loosened its grip
and all the parts of us were trying to lift off.

Telling the story again.
Wanting to hear it from each other’s lips;
provoking each other to embellish it.

Polishing each aspect.
Then we set it down.

Wes Lee

Won second prize in The Takahē Monica Taylor Poetry Prize 2017, judged by Elizabeth Smither.

Wes Lee’s writing has appeared in a number of journals and anthologies, including
The Stinging Fly, Poetry London, Magma, The London Magazine, Poetry New Zealand, The Australian Poetry Journal, The Stony Thursday Book. She has won a number of awards for her poetry, most recently the Poetry New Zealand Prize 2019 (Massey University Press). Her latest collection is By the Lapels (Steele Roberts Aotearoa, 2019).

http://www.weslee.co.nz

Photo credit @vicsemprini at http://www.unsplash.com