Monthly Archives: July 2020

Morning Swim in the North Sea, by Peppy Scott

This poem was published in Folio#72 in 2018. 
Peppy Scott is a member of the Kent and Sussex 
Poetry Society. Her website is at and on 
Twitter she is @PeppyScott, and describes herself 
as follows. Ex-waitress. Dabbles in poetry, 
humorous verse, illustration, cartoons, 
spoken word. Sometimes sings in public, badly. 
(Sings brilliantly in the car.)

Morning Swim in the North Sea

We picked a path across the pebbles
past the last high water mark
and popped the pods of bladder wrack
beneath our shingle-toughened feet
before, drawn East toward the shore
and morning's ritual immersion,
we bore the breathless shock of waves
that broke to wash our numbing skin,
baptised us with a salted sting,
called us, committed, deeper in.

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Cherry Blossom, by Geraldine Cousins

Geraldine’s poem was selected and published in our Folio #72, in 2018.

Cherry Blossom

On our doormat
my two shoes
made from lasts
and lasting thirty years
lie plastered with clay
one cast on its side
fraying laces loop
through eyelets
Tongues without speech

Through double glazing
and spattered rainbow droplets
I dream I see my father's shoes
neatly placed side by side
as it he wants to remind me
how his slender left hand
was inside one shoe
like a glove
while the right hand
brushed on cherry blossom
polish till they shone

Perhaps his pleasure
came from memories of years
dug into muddy trenches
I grieve to think
I can no longer 
reach him

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Summer of Hope

We are going ahead with our annual Open Air meeting on July 21st 2020 at the Enchanted Place in the Ashdown Forest, weather permitting.

We have been there before and there is space to spread out.

The Theme is Hope. Bring along your portable chair, whatever masks or gloves you think you need and be ready to declaim your chosen poem on this theme. You may of course write one for the occasion yourself.

We’ll meet in the car park at 7.50 pm, ready to walk along for an 8.00 pm start. We won’t retire to the pub this year, so if it rains, it’s all off. Let’s hope for a fine night!

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Tea at Furlongs, By John Arnold

John now lives in Suffolk, but remains an active member of the Society as he has been for many years. This poem was selected for inclusion in Folio #72 in 2018.

Tea at Furlongs
1939. After Eric Ravilious, 1903-1942

Even as I painted, I knew
it was about to end:

the tea things laid for two 
on your garden table;

beyond the old flint wall,
a field of corn ripe for harvest.

The Southdown scarp reared up
into a still blue sky,

but read like a world up-ended,
its contents sliding into hell.

We clung on while we could.
I panicked, cheated Tirzah,

screwed Helen then Di.
But now those days are spent...

Dear Peggy, when you write
please lie, convince me

that the corn is still ungathered
and the table's set for tea. 

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