Guernsey Poets

The world’s last Pangolin played a plaintive violin: tunes by Handel and Mozart, as the planet fell apart, mellow music for the soul ...

No man’s an island, wrote the Bard Conversely, no island’s one man: it’s sixty-thousand trying hard to social-distance if they can. D...

Don’t want to think About dying just yet, But when the daily death toll rises There’s no safe bet, Who’d have thought A venture outsi...

The bastards wake us up before six in the morning screeching and squawking bloody murder outside the house. I stagger out of bed and sla...

Image: Jill Chadwick In a lonely place Deprived of the chance Of a shop-bought flat white; I watch the waves dance It’s time to re...