Committed writers dedicated to working together to produce excellent poems, short stories, drama, life writing, and creative non-fiction

Why not contact us for more details about our small, mutually supportive monthly meetings? Don't be shy. No need to be brave!

Sheila 01823 67 28 46

Valerie 01884 84 04 22

Saturday 17 April 2010

Underneath the Wiper Blades

I've just retired from MI5
surprised to find I'm still alive
No more dead letter drops 
no more spies
But what's this on my windshield?
I can't believe my eyes
a last shot from the Ministry
It's my form P45!

© William Botley
all rights reserved

Friday 16 April 2010

Read all about it!

Every morning, anyone
can read the latest
news on my windscreen:

the oblique messages
written in thin blue ink
on narrow feint A4
worn out programmes
or the backsides of menus.

But only the ghost of ‘Yet to Come’
can read what lies
in the spaces
between your lines.

© Sophia Roberts
all rights reserved

Thursday 15 April 2010


Summer and I lie in the grass
Watching the dark buzzard
Circling, crying in the blue.

I get up, intending to go home.
Holding my keys, I approach my car.

I see a flat plane of a note
Anchored under the windscreen wiper.

Tiny, neat writing.
‘I have seen you…’

© Valerie Taylor
all rights reserved

Winter Solstice

down through bleak high panes
pink of coral sinks to grey
a dark bell echoes

© Sophia Roberts
all rights reserved

Wednesday 14 April 2010

Through the wardrobe

For years you have practised sitting meditation at this
solid, long limbed, tall as an ancient oak, door

imagining what it would be like
to cradle a cast iron promise
to toy with the possibility

to hold the key
that will raise the pins, create a shear line,
allow movement, and then entry.

You have it now
and measure the weight of it.

Caress and fondle it.
Slide indulgent fingers. 
Up and down. 

You trace the throat and the collar
feel for the deep grooves on the nose,

where the front limb bends slightly in
towards the centre cut of the bit. 

You have been a locksmith in waiting
learning how a key and a lock
work and wear together.

This lock was strongly made:
there is complex warding, double tumblers
and sliders arranged for maximum security;
it has withstood neglect.

You place the heart bow on your lips.

You exert firm pressure as the blade
enters the gate of the keyway
and compromises
an ancient inner sanctum. 

You stand at the threshold.  Here is the view
you waited for; what you wanted.

This is what you will find.

© Sophia Roberts
all rights reserved