This poem was written in Zennor in 2000. I had travelled to Cornwall to see friends, particularly Ian Caple (Ei), who wasn’t well. Unfortunately, on my way down I heard that he had died. Ian was an inspirational member of the St. Just community: a musician (saxophone), artist, philosopher and printer he was instrumental in…Continue Reading “Millennium Shaft (for Ian)”
Another tongue-in-cheek poem, this time from the pen of George White Where’s Me Pasty? The Cornish Police were short of men and short of women too Tre, Pol and Pen, three gallant ‘men,’ all dressed in navy blue. The sergeant said, “Now stand up straight and listen to me proper. Each of you,…Continue Reading “Where’s Me Pasty? A poem by George White”
A powerful and deeply moving piece. It carries the full weight of Cornish identity, exile, and longing while painting vivid pictures of both the homeland and the distant mining lands. The structure is steady and song-like, very much in the style of a ballad, fitting for the story of the Cousin Jack. I’m Just…Continue Reading “I’m Just a Cousin Jack – a poem by R J Rowse”
William Quintrell (1861-1920) By Ernie Parsons This is the first in a short series of articles focusing on some 19th century Cornish poets from labouring-class backgrounds. Largely now forgotten, they are nevertheless an important part of Cornish culture, overcoming their limited education to write poetry about the events and feelings affecting most Cornish people of…Continue Reading “William Quintrell (1861-1920)”
The countryside dazzles, a pageant of glistening white. The magical rime of last night’s hoar frost decks hedges and trees in Christmas tinsel. At my feet the fields lie frozen, a milky, plush-piled Persian carpet. The fog which brought the whiteness has conceded. Yielding to the same sun which will destroy what it now…Continue Reading “Morning Glory – a poem by Alan Murton”
Photo: Pixabay As a child, my dad would take me, on Saturday morning, with a couple of his friends, out fishing at Coverack in a beautiful clinker built boat called The Southern Star. Going there recently, many years on, I found her pulled up beyond high water, much changed from the boat I knew….Continue Reading “The Southern Star – a poem by David Oates”