by Jan Hedger | Aug 30, 2026 | Letters
In the last letter mummy had from France, daddy said he loved us and would be home soon.Daddy lied; he didn’t come home and he must have lied about loving us, cos’ if he really loved us, he would have come home, wouldn’t he – if he could.Mummy said he was just...
by Jan Hedger | Jun 24, 2026 | Poetry
Sinuous in my silk gown, I slip seamlessly though the enveloping white mist, its droplets, glinting like diamonds, caught in the tendrils of my hair. The mist is ice cold, alive and swirling and I am flung around like spun sugar. Scarlet streams of blood, leave my...
by Jan Hedger | Jun 24, 2026 | Poetry
Let them lie where they fell when the gales ripped them from their ancient birth; fractured roots exposed, like nerve endings. Let them lie where they fell a rest for a weary walker and a scramble and leap for a frisky tongue lolling dog; a seat for lovers. Let them...
by Jan Hedger | Jun 24, 2026 | Poetry
There’s an old nest in the hedge, forgotten, deserted. It rests in criss-cross privet, a sculptural memorial of eggs cracking, hatching, new life out of dead twigs, dried moss and lifeless grass. The breath left it long ago. A gaping...
by Jan Hedger | Oct 18, 2024 | Poetry
Sinuous in my silk gown, I slip seamlessly though the enveloping white mist, its droplets, glinting like diamonds, caught in the tendrils of my hair. The mist is ice cold, alive and swirling and I am flung around like spun sugar. Scarlet streams of blood, leave my...