Cheerio!

Now that sites for The Charles Causley Trust and Cyprus Well are online, it is time to say thank you again, and cheerio. Please visit our new sites. Best wishes from Cyprus Well Stories.

"The poet works continuously at the conveyor-belt of his imagination. As soon as he gets peace of mind at having completed one set of verses, fresh shapes are apt to rise in his head once more. And if he is true to his art, he picks up his pen and goes on struggling to make something fresh in words of what he sees." - Charles Causley, 1962

Cyprus Well has a new website

Cyprus Well has a new website and is now recruiting for trustees: www.cypruswell.org

New website for The Charles Causley Trust

The Charles Causley Trust has a new website at www.thecharlescausleytrust.org

Charles Causley Trust Website Launch

New Blog for The Charles Causley Trust

The Charles Causley Trust has a new blog:

www.thecharlescausleytrust.wordpress.com

The blog will be an important part of the new Charles Causley Trust website, and will be used to update on news and events. Drop by for a visit!

Thank you, and watch this space ...

Cyprus Well Stories is about to head off in two very different directions. Both Cyprus Well, the new literature charity for South West England, and The Charles Causley Trust have new websites imminent. It will be sad to say cheerio to our temporary home here at blogspot, but we're looking forward a lot to the new websites when they arrive. When they're up, we'll put another message up here.

Meantime, thank you for reading, and especially, to the poets of the month, thank you for letting us read your work. We hope that the Poet of the Month feature will carry over into one of the new sites and we can keep that going.

Best wishes and see you soon!

Mother, Diving by Andrew Forster

The high diving board at the open-air pool

taunted my Mother like a tongue. While young boys

leapt from the first board, clenched like stones,

she held herself in by the pool-rail.

Then one day she just shrugged off the shallows,

strode like Johnny Weismuller to the deep end.

I had no idea what she was climbing towards

but she reached the top, balanced above

the craning necks, and stretched. A short run

and she sprang into the charged air,

making new shapes for herself: twisting

and turning like a dolphin, plunging into the water -

a guillemot, sending out relentless waves

that will keep on nudging me off balance.