Latest in: Creative Corner

MONDAY Day stretches its arms Crisp air slices tender skin, Early morning sun TUESDAY Fingers clasped tightly Steam rises from coffee cups Hunched shoulders, long breath WEDNESDAY Light – bursts through curtains The alarm rings, kettle sings Slow patter of feet THURSDAY Clouds sit on hangers, Pale faces pinched...

Lauren’s poetry is inspired by the nature she sees on campus and around Wollaton Park. Take a look at her wonderful words and photography as she explores the changing seasons in Nottingham… Regeneration Malevolent Mother Nature, her storm-threatening winter winds gnaw down to your bones and sever seemingly sturdy...

Lauren’s poetry is inspired by the nature she sees on campus and around Wollaton Park. Enjoy her poetic musings and beautiful photography on the subject of weather… Weather As inconsistent as a fickle lover, who murmurs promises to stay, whilst pulling the bedsheets from you, awakening cold and alone. Lauren...

Lauren’s poetry is inspired by the nature she sees on campus and around Wollaton Park. Take a look at her beautiful words and photography as she describes the feel of winter in Nottingham… Snowfall Serenity settles in the atmosphere like the crêpe-paper covering upon this landscape, as if your...

In response to our recent controversial article, which asked if Shakespeare is that big a deal any more, Impact Arts’ Esther has a very decided opinion… For the ‘Credulous Fools’ Who Dare Challenge Shakespeare: This ‘upstart crow’ that you refer to Whose reputation you’ve marred Wrote 154 sonnets for his true...

Grief is difficult to explain. Its presence is always noticeable, but the strength of this presence is mutable. Overtime the momentum increases and once the heartache becomes too much to contain, conceal and ignore the wave breaks. How I hate those breaking waves, I dread waiting for them to...

The Glass Story I walked passed the street we always took & the palpable glass we looked. This time you weren’t there, And the transparent glass had a story to tell. It was the composition, ‘twas ethereal, Of you and me living lives surreal. You’ll ceaselessly have me, As...