Friend of Poetry Space Annual Membership

Tuesday, 4 February 2014


Become a “Friend of Poetry Space” for just £25 per year. 

You will receive a complimentary copy of each showcase -printed edition (4 per year )

You will be entitled to 2 for the price of 1  entry to Poetry Space Competition (closing date June 30th each year)

Member only offers will also  include

  • exclusive member only competitions
  • discounts on events
  • opportunities to buy selected signed books from the Poetry Space catalogue
  • discounts on books
  • occasional free gifts to claim.

Friends of  Poetry Space annual membership helps us to continue to produce high quality publications and widen participation in poetry related activities and  you reap rewards for your support!


Members’ Only Competitions

March 2017

Walls make an interesting subject for a poem. Walls can contain, divide or protect. Walls can be painted on, used to build houses. Walls can be modern brick or made of stone. walls can be solid entities, or simply barriers in your imagination.

Building the wall


first you mix the days of the week

not so alarming


then morning and   evening    day and    night

     we don’t mention  the time


meanings of words       drift        away       baffling


            talk is plain


familiar objects lose their names 




                            we point at things


other people   move        into the house          into our bed

            I am   me       and          


       someone else


a simple event             becomes   a      tale                  




your               doily     memory                       


                                                            breeds              suspicion   

                        I am silent to avoid distress


When we met we laughed and laughed.

Sixty years to catch up, we told each other stories.

We’ll never run out of conversation, we said,

When we’re old and forgetful

We can tell the same stories over and over…


It has not been as we imagined,


building this wall.


Diane Jackman


All Shall Be Well


We saw the message every morning,

clear in letters maybe six feet high,

white paint along the wall beside the roundabout

on our hectic way to Bangor for work and school.


An old wall this one, enclosing all

the grounds and manor of Y Faenol

where so much more than a century of seeming change

had taken issue with its keep-out-peasants height.


Of course, the road we travelled there

and the letters on the wall were young.

All this I knew and understood, as well as that this message

came from writing many years before the wall was built,


and that even here, so sharp against the grey,

that it could never be especially for me,

just that it still in some way had a meaning that made sense,

a tiny shall and well of hope to calm the madness of another day.


Denni Turp