Tag: robin houghton

Blog/

Pamphlet launch night

Launch of poetry pamphlets at Printers Playhouse Eastbourne

Stephen Bone and I had a blast last Thursday launching our pamphlets in Eastbourne, at the brilliant Printers Playhouse. The audience was a sea of fantastic poet friends, non-poet friends and supportive other-halves… we had excellent guest readings from our good friends Sarah Barnsley and Antony Mair, and what else can I say except massive thankyous to everyone who came, read, listened and bought.

If you couldn’t make it but would like to buy a signed copy of All the Relevant Gods, you can do so through this link – please just put your name and address in the ‘note to seller’ – and thank you!

Antony Mair at the launch of All the Relevant Gods
Antony Mair
Sarah Barnsley at the launch of All the Relevant Gods
Sarah Barnsley
Stephen Bone at the launch of Plainsong
Stephen Bone reads from his new pamphlet ‘Plainsong’ from Indigo Dreams

 

Robin Houghton at the launch of All the Relevant Gods
I think I was having a bit too much fun at this point!
Pamphlets/

The pamphlet is here, hurrah!

The Great Vowel Shift pamphlet

Just taken delivery today of my new short pamphlet, The Great Vowel Shift. I’m very pleased with how it looks, and feeling kind of freed up to focus now on new writing.

If you’re so inclined, you can buy a copy here … just £4 plus 50p postage. Bargain! And signed by the poet!!

Thanks ever so. x

Mags & Blogs/

Invasion

It took three rows of barbed wire coiled round stakes,
hammered at angles into sand and shingle. The beach
packed and leaking like keddle nets of cockles in green
buckets, for six summers.

Wading off in gumboots, baitdiggers beyond the rocks
held occasional wakes, observed by boys belly-down
in the dunes with binoculars, swapping quiet jokes
and stale crackers.

Over on the mud flats lugworms blew their coiled casts
as shellfish slept peacefully, and tides took time to warp
the weed-wrapped posts, as crippled as the knees
of sentries denied their leave.

After the war, low-slung homes stood watch: black-eyed,
slammed cold up against marram grass and buckthorn,
demanding their sea defences. Then came Pontins
and the caravans.

 

published in Interpreter’s House, February 2012