Proost poetry collection, editing, editing, editing…


A few people have asked how this project is getting on. The answer is that it is progressing nicely, but is a whole load of hard work! This is why the blog has been quiet of late- and I expect it to remain quiet for a while.

Hard work like this is no bad thing however as I find myself immersed in lovely words. I hope that we will start to release some sample poems in the run up to releasing the book, but in the first instance, I wanted to share with you another one written by a friend of mine, Susan.

I have two reasons for doing this- firstly because Susan is a wonderful poet who is far too modest, and also because of the subject matter.

Winter is upon us.

But this too shall pass…


Out of two dead aired weeks

Ice and snow crusted over

All things living, when only

The birds hardy enough

To fly from there to here

In the hope I had remembered

To fill the feeders  made

Themselves visible and sadness

Scabbed over my heart:

Sudden joy

A mild Late February dusk

Song from every hidden branch,

The world filled with urges,

The drive to survive

Faith returns -the garlic shoots

In strong green lines

The kale still stiff

The rituals of soil call me:

Tomorrow I begin again.

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