Daily Poems: Tuesday 5 March
The payphone is broken, its contents spilling
onto the West Pier`s weathered boards.
Seagulls dive bomb, scattering tourists in the drizzle;
they fatten up on chips from Kiss Me Quick cones.
Fairground carnies drift in and out of arcade
machinery, blow steam into fingerless gloves.
Cold shoulders shrug into the slice of a South-westerly;
dirty coppers are counted and thrust into bank bags.
I snap the catches shut on my guitar case,
close my fingers over the coach-ticket in my pocket.
I walk past public toilets humming on lock-down.
An upturned bucket half dug into oily sand
catches falling rain like an old boozer`s spittoon.
The seaside town calls last orders.
Paul HawkinsGo back
Announcement of new Artistic Director for Literature FestivalApril 9, 2013
Bath Festivals is delighted to announce the appointment of critic, columnist and broadcaster Viv Groskop to the role of Artistic Director of The Independent Bath Literature Festival.
Daily Poems: Sunday 10 MarchMarch 10, 2013
Postcard of a Dying Woman
Left elbow up, arm coiled,
hand cups the ball of bone
where spine joins skull;
Daily Poems: Saturday 9 MarchMarch 9, 2013
For a while, my brother collected stamps. Never using tweezers, he casually poked them into see-through pockets, or slid them
under glassine sheets, preserving them in their own microclimate
Today’s Daily Poem: Friday 8 MarchMarch 8, 2013
And the quail puff rode,
as the huffalump strode….
Daily Poems: Thursday 7 MarchMarch 7, 2013
Sometimes I’m consumed
but never more alive.