Alongside writing poetry, I am currently studying for a PhD at Nottingham University in Literary Linguistics (aka being really geeky about other people's writing).
My topic is empathy in literature - what is it that makes us feel real emotions (or not) for characters who don't really exist? I'm running a survey: if you have read (or listened to) any novel in the last three months, I would appreciate your response: www.aboutbooks.co.uk
Tuesday 24 July 2018
Tuesday 29 May 2018
Trespass
I should not know
that the grass that grows
on the other side of the barbed wire fence
really is more green.
I should not have been
to the top of the steepest field
before climbing down
on hands and heels.
And I should not have seen
the place, where in between
the rocks grow orchids, like a forest
of tiny, curling trees.
These are my trespasses.
Forgive me.
©2018 Lucy Peacock
This poem is from HILL: The story of one Derbyshire hill. Visit www.hillproject.uk for more details.
that the grass that grows
on the other side of the barbed wire fence
really is more green.
I should not have been
to the top of the steepest field
before climbing down
on hands and heels.
And I should not have seen
the place, where in between
the rocks grow orchids, like a forest
of tiny, curling trees.
These are my trespasses.
Forgive me.
©2018 Lucy Peacock
This poem is from HILL: The story of one Derbyshire hill. Visit www.hillproject.uk for more details.
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