The Dragons' Complete Works

A Bee's Breakfast

This anthology hums around the area currently known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It might, in future decide to call itself several different things. Quite a few people have rather different names for it already. The events of June 2016 showed that referenda have stings in their tails...

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Not A Drop...

Back when ancient mariners sailed the seven seas (water everywhere and nor any drop to drink) they didn’t know what they were missing... To whit, at least a hundred other salty deeps. Now they each have a poem to call their own. Life jackets on? Even safe waters rock the Beautiful Dragons. Bon Voyage...

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My Dear Watson

Think of the periodic table. To those of a scientific disposition it is a tool. To the rest of us, mysterious, a code to unlock another world. Fair game, then, for poetry. But how do you find a poet to interpret every element on the table. You  invite them. Elementary, My Dear Watson.

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Heavenly Bodies

There are 88 constellations in the sky, or thousands, or none. Depends who's looking. Whatever... now, they each have their own poet and  star dust shines on their poems. Be gently, gently, dazzled.

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The Witching Hour

After the longest day, the darkest night. April 30. May Eve, if you like. St Walpurgis Eve, if you dare. And now  a coven of poems...

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Solstice

Solstice. A poem for each hour of the longest day of the year, each by a different poet. The result: midsummer any time you pick it up.

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