Stories from England's Northern Edge - May, 2026 Submissions
Awakening
Col Fleetwood
after Robert Frost
Col Fleetwood lives and writes in the wild and beautiful borderlands spanning Scotland and England. He is a prize-winning short story and essay writer and was delighted to have a recent poem featured in the highly respected webzine Ink, Sweat & Tears. Col is a long-standing supporter of Berwick Literary Festival and regular compere of the Berwick Writers’ Forum Cabaret of Words.
Of the submission, Col says, 'In November 2021, Storm Arwen had a devastating effect on much-loved woodlands in Northumberland and the Scottish Borders, and consequently on my own mental wellbeing. (The six day power cut didn’t help.) My poem, Awakening, was an attempt to see beyond the dead wood, to the trees that I know will eventually replace the fallen. I will leave the reader to decipher any other, personal echos.'
Awakening
after Robert Frost
the way storm disturbed the night and the burly tree crashed down
how a flood of sunlight warmed the cold clay ground
the way a seed threw off its veil pushing out a tiny shoot
how roots explored the soil and discovered it was good
the way branches found the sky and loved the freedom of the air
how sap began to rise pulsing through the quickened core
the way pink buds burst and the lovely petals glow
how you lie down on the earth to catch the blossom on your tongue
the way the screaming swift’s song rings
the way another path begins
The Walls Have Fears
Davey Payne
Davey Payne is from Dumfries, Scotland and based in Spittal, Berwick-upon-Tweed. His poetry and prose conveys the psychogeography of urban and rural spaces. By exploring the relationship between past and present places he challenges contemporay and historical issues.
Of the submission, Davey says, 'This was drawn from personal experience when I first visited Berwick-upon-Tweed in October 2022. The history was and remains tangible, it hangs in the air. As a Scot it feels both foreign and familiar.'
Listen to Davey perform the piece, below.
The Walls Have Fears
On a drastic bone-cold, blue December day I was first enticed by Berwicks backstreet spells. Conjurings of a dark, pervading past, glinting with the myth of a golden age, they beckoned me away from the town hall’s prying, jaundiced eye to walls built over the plundered carcasses of merchant palaces. Stone vestiges that persist like open wounds.
Legend tells us spook sentries keep vigil here at night, bolstered by the skirl of pipes. Was it them haranguing my senses that day, skulking in the nooks, deeking out from between the cracks of those ghost buildings? No. It was that weight of anchored capital that once laid a city to waste and that still haunts this town.
Massacres that bled into the Tweed continue to turn the wheels of its stasis, furtive as the tide. Psychopolitics pushing generation after generation through the mill, darkening the waters where an opaque crown jewel rests on a cushion of mud, its sparkle dulled with silt.
Loving You
Andrew Mears
Andrew Mears is a Poet who shares his time between Newcastle Upon Tyne and Berwick-Upon-Tweed. He has written three self published poetry books to help raise money for charities with a 4th 'Words On a NE Street a collection by one hundred North East poets on the theme of homelessness. He has been a regular performer at Caberet of Words at The Straw Yard and writes, predominantly, about life and reflections of humanity and nature.
Loving You
Silence is louder
In the spaces of my pain
Filling all the emptiness that
never felt like coming home
So tired of hiding from myself
Lips cannot hold onto the
words that didn't rhyme.
Chained to all the could have been's
waiting for hope to love you
I'm crying quieter
So you won't see the broken me
Keeping to myself in
the loneliness of my thoughts
Then you came, you listened
You told me it wasn't OK
Taught me to learn to share
Showed me another way
Gave me belief in myself
That was never there
Now I am found
No longer an orphan lost
You cleared my path, silenced my screams
I am human now
Not afraid to light the world
Change my ending
Now I know how to grow
Grief wears many coats
When your living someone else's dream
Pity hides in others' joy
When anger is an only child
Today as I view the reflection in my mirror
I don't' regret loving you
I was just afraid to be loved in return
A Vignette
Claire McIntosh
Claire McIntosh writes, 'I'm a woman who writes from my heart and entirely for fun; words are my playpark; my words are part of me. My poems and short pieces reflect on how I experience life and the world around me. If you read me, you meet me. I shared at the first Cabaret of Words some years ago, as a 'wild card' and continue to share and support this event at The Straw Yard. I support the Berwick Literary Festival and Berwick Writers' Forum by attending various events.
'This piece was inspired by the title of the Anthology.'
A Vignette
The path; it's narrow,
The road; it's long,
The hill; it's steep,
The mountain; it's vast,
The sea; it's deep.
Study the path;
Read the road;
Survey the hill;
Marvel at the mountain;
Skim the sea.
Listen to its story;
Explore its perspective;
Sense the meaning;
Taste its flavour;
Discover the way.
Taste and see that the earth is good.
Drink from its cup and pour some out.
Eat of its fruit and bear good deeds.
Find its meaning and share it out.
A Living Lowry
Jane Keenan
Jane lives in Berwick-upon-Tweed with her beautiful spaniel Wellington and was inspired by The Lowry Trail - and Lowry's little black dog - to write this piece.
A Living Lowry
Ann looks so innocent and bright
On Spittal Promenade
The sunshine glitters on the sands,
The boats, the blue,
The lighthouse and
A little black dog in the corner.
The black boat sits alone and then
The harbour looks toward the town
I think I see the Custom House
And here is Main Street, and of course
A little black dog in the corner.
I framed a postcard for my wall
Of Lowry’s work “Bridgend”
The vibrant colour the Barrels pub
Was it there at the time?
But no little pup – oh yes!
He’s crossing the street further up.
And from the window where I stay
Two buildings form a picture frame
Both grey and one has chimney pots,How did he capture that light, that force
Of Berwick on Tweed, the town where I live?
Stop at the Lion House and see
The house Lowry wanted also has views
Across the allotments to the sea.
Lowry and me, both solitary,
But I have a dog who loves to run free
And a window like a ‘living Lowry.'
(My dog won’t stay in the corner.)