poetry Archives - Page 2 of 8

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before- Week 0

Rufus' first column of the term reviews All-Purpose Poem for State Occasions by Wendy Cope. He will be introducing a different poem to readers alongside each edition of Cherwell.

Adidas, Auden, and the author: on Zoom with Mark Ford

The emails I exchanged with Mark Ford had the paw prints of a poet: frequent ellipses and the sparing sign-off ‘M’, like our interview,...

Cherwell Food dines at Lula’s Ethiopian and Eritrean Cuisine

I knew it would be good when we were sat opposite Lula’s poetry library. On a warm afternoon in early June, my friend and I...

“It’s about having the courage to say what you mean”: In conversation with Gwyneth Lewis

Gwyneth Lewis is the former National Poet of Wales, the first writer to be given the Welsh laureateship and was recently appointed Member of...

The Source, HT23, Week 5

Featuring poetry from Nicole Gibbons and Charlotte Lai.

The Source, HT23 Week 3

"You are lost and found, and lost again"

Knee Deep

the night to hear the sky to let the world run through the veins to let it all of it run through the veins Image Credit: Debby Hudson via Unsplash.

Things Forough Farrokhzad taught me

"She taught me never to be ashamed of living a bold life"

Once Long Ago

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

Dresse me my harpe

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 modern cult of the Girl Boss’ – Review: She Felt Fear

"Surrounded by the pressure to be beautiful, to craft a beautiful life, and to appreciate beauty, is it any wonder that Kathy goes a bit crazy? She Felt Fear is a portrait of hysteria in the twenty-first century."

The Demolished School

"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."

As the smoke burns down to my fingers

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

Tag: poetry