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  • Liverpool poets come to the cornerHOUSE in Surbiton

    Liverpool poets come to the cornerHOUSE in Surbiton0

    People’s Poet Roger McGough, pictured above, is to perform at the cornerHOUSE this Friday, November 26. Dubbed the patron saint of poetry by former poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy, Liverpool poet McGough, who hosts Poetry Please on Radio 4, will be reading from his latest book, Safety in Numbers, and taking a wry and whimsical

  • International poetry reading features cornerHOUSE poet

    International poetry reading features cornerHOUSE poet0

    Poet Hilary Walker will read her poem We Are One at an international book launch tomorrow (Thursday). Hilary, who is representing the UK, was one of only six poets to be chosen to read their poems at this prestigious online Montreal Poetry Prize Anthology 2020 event. We Are One is about being connected together as

  • cornerHOUSE arts centre welcomes your New Year poem

    cornerHOUSE arts centre welcomes your New Year poem0

    Write a poem to welcome in the New Year and submit it to The cornerHOUSE to be featured on the arts centre’s website. Your poem should be about what the New Year means to you either by reflecting on the past 12 months (I’m sure we’ve all got rather a lot to say about that!),

  • Wrong Number

    Wrong Number0

    I’ve grown to hate my landline, I dread each time it rings. It’s never Eve or Mildred… It’s people flogging things Or conmen trying to trick me, Or saying: “Your laptop’s slow” Or kidding me their survey Will improve my status quo The preference scheme is useless, It doesn’t stop the calls And if you

  • Kiosk Lament

    Kiosk Lament0

    Unloved, unnoticed, Barbie pink This pavement obelisk’s in sync With nothing… and yet here it waits: A monolith bereft of mates. Twelve years ago the kiosk came, An iPlus net phone booth, by name. It would, they said, transform our lives, The proud installers swapped high fives. Report graffiti, pay a fine, A streetlight’s out,

  • The Vital Cup

    The Vital Cup0

    We clutch our coffee cups to us As if they hold our very soul, We grasp them, grip them, cling to them And cart them everywhere we stroll We sip from them, we swig from them, We carry them on bus and train, And yet when we have emptied them Our attitude is inhumane We

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