Bob Woodroofe was born & bred & still living in the Vale of Evesham. His work appears in many poetry magazines & is performed locally. Inspired by the natural world, the landscape, local tradition & earth’s mysteries, he attemptsto bring the magic of nature & its healing powers to a wider audience.
Sue Johnson is a poet, short story writer & novelist. She is inspired by Nature, fairy tales & overheard conversations. Her other interests include reading, walking & yoga. Sue is a Writing Magazine Creative Writing Tutor & also runs her own brand of writing workshops.
oxford october“crow gymnastics across a big blue matorange split pink shock of spindleberry”bob woodroofe
st michel“above us a buzzardsurfs the thermals”sue johnson
2021 - ‘Pathways.’ A third joint poetry collection of paired poems from Sue & Bob about the paths they have taken together over the years.2020 - ‘Another Lad of Evesham Vale.’ Bob’s second hardback poetry collection. This edition also includes a CD of the local ‘Asum grammar’ dialect poems.2019 - To celebrate 25 years publishing new impressions of all Bob’s work. Now also available from Amazon in Paperback or as e-books on Kindle.2018 - ‘A Town like Evesham,’ a CD of Poems & songs.A joint recording by Sue & Bob with local singer-songwriter Colin Pitts.2017 - ‘Journey,’ the second joint collection of paired poems about their travels. ‘Curious Women’ A poetry collection from Sue.‘Pick of the Crop.’ Bob’s first hardback poetry collection.2007 - ‘Something Stirred’ Bob’s collection in search of Greenness.2005 - ‘The Writer’s Toolkit,’ Sue’s series of four creative writing booklets & 2 CD’s. 2004 -‘Tales of Trees,’ their first joint collection of paired family poems.1998 - Bob joined by Sue Johnson. 1993 - Greenwood Press created by Bob Woodroofe.A trilogy of poetry collections based on life in & aroundthe Vale of Evesham published over several years.
To contact Bob or Sue to say hello or if you would like to purchase a book or CD, please feel free to contact them using the details below:email: email@example.com: (01386) 446477.the greenwood press38, birch avenueeveshamworcestershirewr11 1yjorchard‘red admiral drunk on fermented juicethe drowsy wasp hums inside the hollowed skin’bob woodroofe
PathwaysSue Johnson & Bob WoodroofeWe have followed many pathways, both real and imaginary over the years.They are included here as paired poems arising from the same experience.Published Summer 2021 ISBN 978-0-9957290-5-6 - PaperbackPrice £6.99Postage and packing £ 1.50
Another Lad of Evesham ValeBob WoodroofePoems about growing up in Evesham, picking fruit & vegetables, working the land. Evesham’s history and changes over time.Out & around the Vale and up to the present day.Published Spring 2020ISBN 978-0-9957290-4-9 - PaperbackPrice £ 6.99ISBN 978-0-9957290-3-2 - HardbackPrice £12.00 - CD included with hardback bookPostage and packing £ 1.50
Pick of the CropBob WoodroofeRural & countryside, Nature, Famous poems, Worcester & the Cathedral, Evesham & the Vale, Croome Park & Other Inspirations.Published Autumn 2017ISBN 978-0-9957290-1-8 - HardbackPrice £7.50ISBN 978-0-9957290-2-5 - PaperbackPrice £5.00Postage and packing £ 1.50
JourneySue Johnson & Bob Woodroofe“the paths we have takenthe things we have seenthe words we have foundthis is our journey”Published April 2017ISBN 978-0-9521165-9-2 - PaperbackPrice £5.00Postage and packing £ 1.50
Something StirredBob WoodroofeIn search of greenness.An exploration of our awareness of the natural world & the mysteries of our ancient sites.ISBN 978-0-9521165-7-8 - PaperbackPrice £4.00Postage and packing £ 1.50
Reflections of the ValeBob WoodroofeInspired by the landscape, people and places of the Vale of Evesham & beyond. A snapshot of local life.ISBN 978-0-9521165-1-6 - PaperbackPrice £4.00Postage and packing £ 1.50
Tales of TreesSue Johnson & Bob WoodroofeA joint collection of paired poems.Family trees seen from different perspectivesfemale/male - art/science. Two families, two landscapes.ISBN 978-0-9521165-3-0 - PaperbackPrice £4.00Postage and packing £ 1.50
Another Lad of Evesham Vale - CD & BookBob WoodroofePoems in the local dialect ‘Asum grammar’ picking fruit & vegetables, working the land. Recorded Spring 2020Price £12.00 - Hardback book included with CDPostage and packing £ 1.50
From “Pathways” - St Catherine’s ChapelTake the path up St Catherine’s Hillto the chapel that overlooks Chesil Beach and the Isle of Portlandbuilt by the monks of Abbotsbury Abbeyas a pilgrimage chapel. It is dedicated to St Catherine of Alexandriapatron saint of spinsters and virgins.Local women once came here to prayfor help with finding a good husband.‘A husband St CatherineA handsome one St CatherineA rich one St CatherineA kind one St CatherineAnd soon St Catherine.’For many years a navigation light was kept burning at the top of the stair turretto guide sailors safely across Lyme Bay.On our visit there were no visitorsno wishes being madeonly the cooing of doves in the rafters.Sue Johnson
From “Pathways” - Saint Catherine’s dovesThe glass long gone from the windowthat once was coloured and stained.The Portland stone is carved into ornate arches and graceful curves.How on earth did they cut and fitglass into those intricate shapes?Sunbeams highlight dust motes that,stirred by the flutter of dove’s wings,dance in the air currents under the roof.A feather from an angel floats gently down.The doves coo softly to each other, a pair settle on the raised bosses of stone.They rest in near perfect symmetry,silhouetted by the morning sunas it streams through the window.A purely random act or could it be that they share the same visionthat we have found in both our hearts.Bob Woodroofe
From “Another Lad of Evesham Vale” - GhostsThe waist high white mist hovered over the flood meadows. All was still and eerily quiet aswe sat hunched over our rods.Already too dark to see the tremble of the rod tipin the gathering dusk,we held the line betweenfingers, felt for a bite.We fished where the currentcurled round in a slow eddyat the entrance to the backwaterknown as ‘Dead Man’s Ait.’In the battle long ago De Monfort’s soldiers, trapped in the river’s loop,were slaughtered or drowned. Sat there I thoughtI saw movement, shapes in the swirling mist, and then a white owlghosted out on silent wings,floated away along the bankinto the mist once more.Left us sat there,summoning up the courage,to pack up and walk home. Bob Woodroofe
From “Another Lad of Evesham Vale” - Passin thruAsum’s allus a bit congested yew,like whenever yew wantz tu drive straight through,It doan matter iffun yew gus fast or slow, yew’ll nevur get seven green lights in a row.We’em deep intur thu red light district ere,air’s turned a little bit bluer I fear,wait, wait for it, thu change to amber glow,green at larst, and orf we bloody well go.Yew might wantur take thu scenic route rownd,join the queues on the bypass I’ll be bound,tain’t nuthin but a glorified car park,yew’ll likely be thur till well artur dark.An when they divertz from the moturwayyou’m likely tu be stuck most a the day,whether yew’m a drivin bubble car or Jag,make sure yew takes thermos an sleepin bag.So, if yew shud visit Asum’s fine town,don’t want yew to end up a feelin down,jus take a tip, catch a bus or a train,else yew wunt wanna visit Asum again.Bob Woodroofe
From Journey - Calanaisthe tall stones stand proud against cloud capped mountain and mirrored lochsleeping beauty drowses on the skylinethe bubble of curlew honk of geeseand eerie feathered drum of snipeis magnified by the dusk quietnesspale lichen beards the edgeof each craggy individualtonight we are alone with themfinally come to pay our respectsit has been a long time buildingbut nothing compared to their standingthe pull has strengthened for many yearsuntil it could not be resisted anymorea faint buzz sounds around the stonesthere is a background hiss in the airlike static from electricity pylonsIn amongst them now feel their warmthvibrations from deep within the earthpulse upwards to the surfacerecharge our spent batteriesBob Woodroofe
From Journey - CallanishFor years you kept a postcard of the stoneson your bureau until that magical midsummerwhen we were able to visit. We stayedin a B & B with a view of the stones from our window. On those June nights it didn’tget truly dark. We walked up the lane past derelict cottages after ten o’clock to wander amongst the stones. The visitors centre was closed. We did notneed a torch. The stones waited likesilent figures conveying a sense of peaceand tranquillity. We were not alone,the ancient spirits of the place were with us.They will remain there long after our timeon this earth has ended, still exudingvibrations of energy and life.The next morning, the new Canadian visitorswere more fascinated by the Monday morninglaundry blowing on the local washing lineslike a repeating image across the windsweptcountryside with its stunted trees and bushes.“Do they often do this?” “Why don’t they use their driers?” He shakes his head, looks mystified.The ancient stones make no impression at all.Sue Johnson