Right now, the lower end of a certain large meadow should be thronging with Southern Marsh Orchids- Alas, meadow no…
We have lost a friend:She who’d happily accompany,Whenever we ventured this way. She might slip alongsideWith quiet laugh, silver smiles;Other…
Fifty years and more I have known that track:The hurry down to the sea, a slower haul backWith children on…
Should have been music at the Brook this evening: this dates from April 2016…Our backdrop an encouraging sunset, we drive…
An old photo glimpsed Basketed barley water, apples, egg and cress;Straw-hatted plaits, and pleated dresses;Dull black pumps with flat, flat…
Mysteriously willingly wakeful, both,In the before of that late June dawn… Wearing only skin-soft air– No more needed in such…
RAGGED ROBIN BLUES © Christopher Jessop 2020 Dedicated to Mr Robin Black.Composed while walking down to Marloes Sands, Sunday afternoon…
Poems seem to write themselves, phrases coming from nowhere. Out walking, into my pocket recorder; working round the house, grab…
Here’s a song I wrote earlier this year, dedicated to the Lobster Pot; thanks to Pete Bounds for his help.…
You’d think, from the first few entries in this journal, that I was fixated on seaweed; not so. It’s just…