40 years ago English singer Kate Bush (b. 1958) released 'Wuthering Heights', a song influenced by English author Emily Brontë's (1818-1848) 1847 gothic novel of the same name. Now "Bush will join the poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy, the Scottish makar, or national poet, Jackie Kay and the novelist Jeanette Winterson in a summer project celebrating the Brontë sisters. All four have been commissioned to write a piece of poetry or prose which will then be engraved on stones positioned over the eight-mile route between the sisters’ birthplace and the family parsonage. Winterson will celebrate the Brontë legacy as a whole, Duffy will celebrate Charlotte, Kay has Anne and Bush has Emily." - Mark Brown for The Guardian, 26/04/18. Image: Katebushnews.com . #generallygothic #gothic #katebush #wutheringheights #emilybronte #thebrontës #thebrontes #thebrontësisters #thebrontesisters #charlottebronte #annebronte #carolannduffy #jeanettewinterson #jackiekay #gothicnovel #gothicfiction #englishliterature #bookworm #booknerd #bookstagram #literature #thearts #thorntonmoor #themoors #academic #influence #theguardian

Ngjit lëkurës sime, perlat e saj. Zonja ime këmbëngul t'i vesh, t'i ngroh deri sa të bjerë mbrëmja kur i laj flokët. Në gjashtë, ia qarkoj në qafën e saj të bardhë të ftohtë. Ditës gjithë e mendoj, teksa prehem në Dhomën e Verdhë, duke hamendësuar mëndafsh apo tafta, çfarë fustani sonte? Ajo adhuron veten, ndërsa unë punoj me kënaqësi e nxehtësia ime e ngadaltë hyn në çdo margaritar. Plogështueshëm zinxhiri i saj në qafën time. Ajo eshte e hijshme. E ëndërroj në shtratin tim në papafingo; e përfytyroj tek kërcen me burra shtatlartë, hutuar nga aroma ime e zbehtë dhe këmbëngulëse nën parfumin e saj francez gurët e saj të qumësht. I shpluhuros shpatullat me putrën e një lepuri, sodis skuqjen e butë që depërton nën lëkurë si një psherëtimë dembele. Në pasqyrën e saj buzët e mia ndahen sikur duan të flasin. Hënë e plotë. Karroca e saj e sjell në shtëpi. Shoh çdo lëvizje të sajën në kokën time ... Zhveshja, heqja e bizhuterive, dora e saj e hollake që zgjatet drejt kutizës mbajtëse, rrëshqitjen lakuriq midis çarçafëve, siç gjithmonë bën ... Dhe unë zgjuar këtu, duke ditur që edhe perlat tashmë po ftohen në dhomën ku fle zonja ime. Gjithë natën ndiej mungesën e tyre dhe digjem. Carol Ann Duffy Shqipërimi Rielna Paja #carolannduffy #instapoetry #pearls https://www.instagram.com/p/COfFydpHwFF/?igshid=5531pa72rhhd

Carol Ann Duffy

Carol Ann Duffy

Really enjoyed my evening with my amazing ladies, dinner at Viva Mexico and seeing Carol Ann Duffy at Edinburgh Book Festival ❤️ Also I love this poem because bees and Christmas 💁 #strongwomen #poetry #carolannduffy #feminist #feminism #thebees #edinburgh #edinburghbookfestival #love https://www.instagram.com/p/B1CklmsnT6S/?igshid=475tw4uy227f

Teach me, he said— we were lying in bed— how to care. I nibbled the purse of his ear. What do you mean? Tell me more. He sat up and reached for his beer I can rip out the roar from the throat of a tiger, or gargle with fire or sleep one whole night in the Minotaur's lair, or flay the bellowing fur from a bear, all for a dare. There's nothing I fear. Put your hand here— he guided my fingers over the scar over his heart, a four-medal wound from the war— but I cannot be gentle, or loving, or tender. I have to be strong. What is the cure? He fucked me again until he was sore, then we both took a shower. Then he lay with his head on my lap for a darkening hour; his voice, for a change, a soft burr I could just about hear. And, yes, I was sure that he wanted to change, my warrior. I was there. So when I felt him soften and sleep, when he started, as usual, to snore, I let him slip and slide and sprawl, handsome and huge, on the floor. And before I fetched and sharpened my scissors— snipping first at the black and biblical air— I fastened the chain to the door. That's the how and the why and the where. Then with deliberate, passionate hands I cut every lock of his hair.

Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy • • Valentine Not a red rose or a satin heart. • I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. • Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. • I am trying to be truthful. • Not a cute card or a kissogram. • I give you an onion. Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful as we are, for as long as we are. • Take it. Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring, if you like. • Lethal. Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife. • • • #nationalpoetryday #carolannduffy #scottishpoetry #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetrylovers https://www.instagram.com/p/BohmKqGHPEN/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=a22135ea6ay4

He's right, The Wardrobe is the most excellent of names for a bookshop. A place to get lost in and to inspire and store stories in... #ZaffarKunial #TheWardrobe #poetry #poems #Shore2Shore #anthologies #CarolAnnDuffy (at Bicester Zoo)