​
'There is no one else writing like Chloe Balcomb, no one else who can render huge themes - feminism, death, our life with other animals into such finely observed and delicately wrought vignettes, vibrant with original diction and vocbaulary'  
​Roselle Angwin
​greenbottlepress.com
‘beautiful unshowy language; a precisely controlled tone that allows for an expert build up of narrative suspense.’ 
Amy Wack, Poetry Editor, Seren Press ​
My poetry began with the processing and telling of my own family’s stories
but increasingly the voices and tales of others, particularly of those who have taken a different or daring path, draw me to them. ​I am interested in exploring the intricacies of relationships and the inner and outer journeys we take in order to maksense of the world.  ​ Primarily a narrative poet, I also take inspiration from social history, the natural world and myth. 
 
Please follow these links to my latest publications online:
​theinterpretershouse.org/balcomb-70
​​allthesins.co.uk/2018/04/20/issue-7-small-art-is-live/

Culture

On trips to France Dad tried to show us Culture.
But we were busy playing cards or vying 
for room in the endless shifting, sibling shuffle. 
 
On the campsite, like overexcited Labradors
scenting water, we scattered in all directions, 
returned hours later, reeking of chlorine. 
 
Trapped in the heat of the camper van, 
Dad fashioned gadgets for the shower,
yearned for cities, Mozart, the Test Match on 4.
 
Inside his head was order. He could ignore 
the dropped toilet rolls, the damp towels,
our feral limbs draped on the upholstery. 
 
Ever hopeful, he toured the great chateaux,
awaited a spark of intellectual curiosity.
He remarked on the architecture, the play
 
of light on water. We talked of chips,
of Beat your Neighbour and Crazy 8s.
The perfect pool, with just us in it.
 
 














Extract from 'Lepus':

Between the greenhouse and the amilanchier,
the hare hunkers, slick pelt gleaming, lanceolate
ears great silky plumes.  It is still early, dew
shimmering like  frost, the familiar house sleepy.
 
Just yesterday, he’d been a man and now this;
his surprise is absolute, the elegance of his sleek
new body, a perfect wonder.  He tests a back leg
experimentally, its musculature is taut as wire...
 

ABOUT ME

I am a writer, bodywork practitioner and teacher based in Sheffield, South Yorkshire. I have loved reading and listening to stories and poems since childhood and their magical ability to transport me to another life or experience.  

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