Saltstänkta år hemmet mitt är en ljuv morgonbris,doften av fläder och julis ljusdet är daggen i september,dimman över viken när solen går upp det är kylan i januari,våren som vägrar kommaiskallt hav och frusna drömmar vattnet som knappt är salt här borta pinar vinden med,men flädern blommar redan i majoch det grönskar i mars himlen […]
saltstänkta år / salt sprayed years by Julia Danielsson Read More »
Of our Island And what the sky, and what the land and what the hand of humankind,Without the sprinkle of the stars, nor yet the rain and sun together,that maketh our good soil a’ shine, with, “due a rainbow here, in a week or two.” weather and sweet this land within a gale, or laced
Of our Island by Hazel G Mansfield Read More »
Lost in the Mist A girl of three wandered free Along a winding pathHer eyes glued to mystic hues A sinking silver swathThree fishermen cried to save the child From icy ocean’s wrathNot a moment late, they pulled her safe The child found at last Carried back then sat on lap Inside their big red
Lost in the Mist by Josie M-Townsend Read More »
Cycling Green leafy lanes trundle by and I feel the caress of warmth on my face. Tingling smell of fresh sea air tickles my nostrils. Glorious cacophony of colour at a hedgeveg stall bombards my senses and I stop to pick fresh plump tomatoes. The crisp pound note rustles as it enters the money box.
Cycling by Karen Simpson Read More »
Alderney Alderney, a comma in the ocean. A dot of land, a few miles off the coast of France. I’m a newcomer to the island. The busyness of my old lifestyle replaced with days spent wandering through wild garlic and pink thrift; pausing to look at cotton ball clouds drifting by; listening to the chatter
Alderney by Nic West Read More »
Still Some claim the water sucksand gurgles asit celebratesits dance around the rocks –that liquid has theagency, while thestone, inured andthoughtless, merely borders life –observing action,like a patient ontoo manydrugs. But, slow the tempo, turn the dialdown until you think it pointsto zero. The waves vanish,the tides are a blue-grey blur,the diorite finds its voice,
Still by Simon De La Rue Read More »
Stornoway at Night On a golden brown Autumn day in 2020 I moved from the croft home I had shared with my beloved cats on the Isle of Scalpay. My destination a flat in sheltered social housing, in Matheson Road, in the middle of the town of Stornoway. All winter long I gazed out of
Stornoway at Night by Isabelle Moss Read More »
Community Spirit The past is in the past except for when you live here. Where our heritage shapes our lives and we are propelled forward by our faith in each other. Yet, the present arrives all the same and with it a desire to break free. Echoes of the past remain – sensibilities of a
Community Spirit by Beatrice Copland Read More »
The two halves which make us whole Recently cognitive scientists have posited that memories can only be formed after language. So I often wonder what they’d make of Gibraltarians who speak in a forked tongue, flickering between English and Spanish neither here nor there it falls just short of a language and is instead relegated
The two halves which make us whole by Benedict Vasquez Read More »
The Wonders Of The Wight The skirl of shells on the seashore serenades your arrival, and the cliffs reach forward to give you a hug.The Isle of Wight is a diamond in more ways than one. Nestling just off the southern edge of the UK, it is one of England’s sunniest spots.Orchids abound on the
The Wonders Of The Wight by Kate L. Young Read More »