Jane's Writing Shed.

Last night whilst reading The Music of what happens, Poems from The Listener 1965 - 1980, edited by Derwent May, I came across this poem by Edwin Morgan, which feels very fitting for our fabulous and (almost) too hot summer. A Too Hot Summer A car came hooting slowly not upended and it was a summer lane with limes dusted down. Lazy boys yawned in tree-forts, tumbled suddenly to the impertinence of the windshield and the horn, for looking out it was a dog. How acoustic the recording-room was till they slid back a noisy panel, shrubbery girls in fishnets looked up with sandwiches, chewing the shirt-sleeves of the producer there surely but looking out it was a dog. The first pony stood, shook its reins. The butcher's daughters cried sweetly to it to advance, came off to tug, then showed their rougher natures by the betting shop and looking out it was a dog. Two lovers took the wood to pieces running out of the quarrelling time from the landmark trunk the lightn

YES for self-determination, we have our parliament, we are a nation. YES to alleviating poverty, caring before profit, a lot more humanity. YES to keep the NHS, free tuition, oil and gas. YES to well-funded childcare, a living wage, decent pensions and welfare. YES to a nuclear-free future, more renewables, from wind, sun and sea. YES to jobs for all the kids, give them hope, and apprenticeships. YES to holding out a hand to immigrants, from every land. It's not about the SNP, Tories, Labour, UKIP, the Greens or any other party, it's bigger than all of them, YES for Scotland's future, you and me.

If only for the reason that I've seen very little publicity given to the Royal Army Medical Corps during the Second World War in comparison with all the material generated about the fighting forces during 1939-1945, I'm posting this poem. Tragically there are still so many conflicts throughout the world, Ukraine, Gaza, South Sudan, Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan and medics still perform miracles whenever they are caught up in these terrible events. My father was 22 years old when he wrote the diary entry on board the medical ship Dempo, off the Italian coast. Dave off in five. Your diary says on 17 May 1944, 'was a lovely sunny day.' At 9.55 am your troop-ship Dempo  was torpedoed,  starboard side aft. As you watched that deadly chevron  coming straight for you,  who but you  would have  run back for his greatcoat, before jumping into the lifeboat? Did this really only take five minutes? And how long did that two hours feel before being rescued by the destroyer

Just arrived, my copy of 'Let in the Stars' New Poetry for Children, which includes one of my poems . This beautifully produced anthology is a collaboration between The Manchester Writing School at MMU and the Manchester School of Art at MMU and the poems were judged by Imtiaz Dharker and Philip Gross for the Manchester Writing for Children Prize. I'm delighted to be among so many talented poets and would recommend this book for anyone with children in their life. There are lots of funny/sad/sparky poems for kids of all ages. 

I subscribe to and support several poetry magazines and have just caught up with Butcher's Dog issue 3. There's something very energising about reading these poems written by a wide selection of British poets. Each of the 20 poets featured including Jo Brandon, Rosie Garland,Julie Mellor, Danny O'Connor has one poem published and they are beautifully typeset giving each poem plenty of space on the page. How democratic! The whole magazine feels high quality. Mentioning the poets,the co-editors Sophie Baker, Jake Campbell and Amy MacKelden write in the Editors' Note,  ' We invite you to look out at the world from their perspectives and feel the earth shift, a little.' Highly recommended.