We can now share with you our final two of five highly commended poems from the Charles Causley International Poetry Competition 2016. Our highly commended winners were selected by our head judge Sir Andrew Motion as having strong potential as poets. They will be offered a virtual mentoring session with ... Read More
We are delighted to begin sharing with you the first three of our five highly commended poets in the Charles Causley International Poetry Competition 2016. Our head judge Sir Andrew Motion singled out these poets as having signs of strong potential in their writing. They will have the opportunity to ... Read More
Liz Breslin is the 3rd prize winner for this year’s Charles Causley International Poetry Competition. Her winning poem is ‘Walk A Mile/ Stepping Out’ and was selected by our head judge Sir Andrew Motion.
As a child in the UK, Liz Breslin memorised Charles Causley’s poems, sitting in the bath. She ... Read More
The winner of the 2nd prize in the Charles Causley International Poetry Competition is Joanne Key with her poem ‘The Year You Turned Into A Fish’.
Joanne lives in Crewe in Cheshire where she writes poetry and short fiction. Her poems have appeared in various places online and in print including ... Read More
Friday was a special day.
North Cornwall looked resplendent in autumn sunlight as we drove from Launceston to the North Cornwall Book Festival. Our Chairman, David Fryer, pointed out the sights to our new poet and illustrator in residence at Cyprus Well, Charlotte Walker, as we passed the slate quarry and ... Read More
My first week here is already over. Seven nights gone during which I’ve established a sort of pygmy evening routine. It is shorter and more to the point than my usual one at home in Bristol, mostly due to the subtraction of family rituals of cooking, clearing, children's’ music practice ... Read More
The Seasons in North Cornwall
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O Spring has set off her green fuses
Down by the Tamar today,
And careless, like tide-marks, the hedges,
Are bursting with almond and may.
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Here lie I waiting for old summer,
A red face and straw-coloured hair has he:
I shall meet him on the road from Marazion
And the Mediterranean Sea.
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September ... Read More