‘Ill-fated Associations’ - James Metcalf writes about a life shattered by war
Rachael Parker shares three of her poems with The Yorker
The Yorker talks to three student playwrights premiering their work in the Drama Barn next term.
A poem by J Cridford exploring the imagination and quest for belonging
Only You
To mend a broken heart would seem impossible
To heal with the sweetest kiss I thought was a mere dream
Yet, to gaze upon the eyes of the most handsome of men
Would not only flatter, but rejuvenate a sleeping soul
And to that I will proclaim my love, my lust
As the tamest of flames can burn a fire once more.
My Apology
How can it be I my love?
I who sang songs of sweet sorrow,
Told tales of forgotten love
Yet let slip away the memories of the past.
How can it be I whose voice still resides?
So long has it been since the warmth of your embrace,
The softness of your lips leading only into dreams.
My love, I didn't meant to hurt you,
I'm not fool enough to leave you
Nor my passion overthrow you.
My love, how can it be I?
I who loved you.
Very brave thing to do putting your work out into the public, making it open to criticism. Well done and I really like your work 
.
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