The Source

Featuring poetry from Nicole Gibbons and Charlotte Lai.

"You are lost and found, and lost again"

Dear Foxe I sing a song of love to you, Whose shell shines like the half compass of heaven, My beloved Foxe, take this to be...

Under the covers, inside the walls,The wind shuffles in from the West,Rabbits potter in the grass,And the pheasants lay down to rest. This is the...

I rise from my screen and enter the horizontal darkness above its frame, itself over the river I do not see. Why is it...

In Once Long Ago, Jenny Robinson invites us to listen to the “dead tales of old gods long gone” struggling to find their place...

Poet's Note: "One of my favourite things to do whenever I visit new areas with my friends is to come up with ridiculous "histories"...

The speaker in Anna Cowan’s poem herself undertakes a myth-making activity in playing her harp. “It is time”, she declares, as she unshackles the...

"The river near the house welcomes my anger. A ray of drowned sunlight charges the water with colour. I ritually trace my childhood steps"

"Spending years of loneliness sitting on that toilet seat, a haven from slow lunch times with no friends, I knew the peeling paint as if it were my own palm, cream cracking, exposing the avocado green of the seventies."

To blink a bloodshot world away And drink in rough, and burn, and heat Until she comes to kiss the dark.

Something crawls up my throat, more bitter than honey.

Death comes, and they draw the curtains – Not in Spain. In Spain they open them.

Go, then - O girl, O derivative of...