Valerie Faith Irvine-Fortescue 1925-2016
Poem for her eightieth birthday

You read your poems
like a pleased child;
party pieces,
sometimes naughty,
wicked even,
always surprising.

Lines unfold
their inner flowers,
snowdrops shining
through a winter
of shyness.

Thoughts startle
like a jack-in-a-box,
stray revealing images
of tabernacled secrets,
then breaking into song,
a final smile, a laugh.

God must wonder
at your mind's journey,
its magical visitations.

You help us
believe in angels.

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KENNETH ROY
Home

The inspector is about to call, and this time he's calling on us

WALTER HUMES
Diary
Better the 'faceless bureaucrats' than the cabal lying in wait

DAVID TORRANCE
Notebook
The man in the library who had me staring into a brownie

GERRY HASSAN
Essay of the week
Whatever happens, Britain has already left the building

ALICE FLORENCE ORR
New Voices
If we leave Europe, the young will leave Britain

ROSE GALT
Favourites
A personal selection of things of value

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Books
The reinvention of Jean Armour is worth reading twice

PAUL TRITSCHLER
Life and letters
Bagging the Munros (plays, not mountains) and what might yet be

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Sport
Dominoes a sport? I'm a convert to the idea. Just don't cough

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New Voices
Let's not be 'fat' or 'skinny'. Let's just be ourselves

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Fetch the sick bag, Alice, before it's too late

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Jo was magical. A hurricane. She ran towards the fire

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The real culprit is the word 'passion'

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The unnoticed statue of Birstall

Jo
Six short essays on her death and its implications

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GERRY HASSAN

JEAN BARR

BOB CANT

ANTHONY SILKOFF

ANGUS SKINNER

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