HeyJaredTony’s Substack
Thoughts on the world we live in with poetry and a touch of humour
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 13
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- Sep 25, 2026
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- Jul 3, 2026
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Loss, fear, gratitude (opens the original)
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People ask where I get the ideas from to write this each week and the answer is ‘randomly’. This week I’ve been prompted by my father-in-law’s birthday and realising he would have been 111 now. It’s somehow difficult to think of those you’ve lost as not being as you remember them. Added to this, I’m now the about same age as he and my mother-in-law when they died, and much, much older than my mother. A strange inversion.As a result of this, I’ve been thinking about death and loss, about differen
In the Port (opens the original)
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Two contrasting sides of human nature – those who join mobs and those who help others. The first get lots of publicity, the second less so – but I cling on to the belief that there are more of us who care than there are those who stir up violence. Plenty of evidence of both in the last coupIe of weeks, with the mobs in the news and the day to day helpfulness and caring observable on a day to day, even hour to hour, basis in real life.I was away last week, enjoying the Austrian Alps, and a little
The Peace of Wild Things (opens the original)
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Sometimes, when wondering how to cope with the world, how to respond, a few words or a poem from an established writer come to mind. A Heaney or a Frost, an Eliot or an Auden. I find the insights and the wisdom in a range of these masters tremendously helpful - and one of the I turn to often is Wendell Berry who sadly died recently. Specifically, his poem ‘The Peace of Wild Things’ is a touchstone of peace, acceptance, and beauty. He will be much missed - but the words live onText within this bl
Overwhelmed? (opens the original)
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Every now and then I find myself overwhelmed by the tragedies of the world – the wars, the senseless killings, the very fact that there are people in power who have a complete disregard for human life. And then there are the ‘natural’ disasters and our part in creating scenarios in which they become both more likely and more frequent, not least the floods and wildfires. The sense of being overwhelmed is made worse by feeling completely powerless and yet, at the same time, responsible. I feel I s
Ekphrasis and the Foraging Pigs (opens the original)
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My mind has been on ekphrasis this week, ekphrasis being the reflection of one art form in another – typically a poem about, or inspired by, a work of visual art. The reason for my focus on it is an evening with the Foraging Pigs in Billingshurst. Foraging Pigs? I hear you ask. That is the name of a poetry group, so called as a nod to the history of the area – coastal folk used to bring their pigs to the local oak woodland to forage in the winter. The Foraging Pigs are holding (will have held by
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