 Indigo Dreams Press is a specialist poetry publisher offering many opportunities for publication. We publish two poetry magazines, anthologies and run annual poetry competitions. In addition we offer a booklet printing service with stapled, perfect or slotted bound booklets of your own work at incredible prices.
Reach is a monthly magazine now in its 10th year. It features new and established small press poets, a monthly cash prize for the top 3 poets voted for by the readers, many in-house competitions and anthologies and a popular letters section to exchange news and views.
The Dawntreader specialises in myth and legend, landscape and nature. It welcomes prose and articles as well as poetry and is published quarterly. It is a recent magazine, gaining excellent reviews and establishing a firm following.
 
Ronnie Goodyer is a well-known figure on the small press poetry circuit. He has 4 collections to his name, the current being New Words from an Old Hat. He has edited over 100 publications and featured in a host of anthologies. As Poetry Editor for bluechrome he was responsible for selecting and editing many successful publications by new and more established poets. He is a regular poetry adjudicator and also runs the specialist poetry site for the 50+ at laterlife.com Ronnie lives in the Wye Valley in Herefordshire, England with his permanent shadow, rescue border collie Soxx.
 
Indigo Dreams Press, 8 Reynolds Court, Hildersley, Ross-On-Wye
Herefordshire, HR9 7NE, U.K.
email: indigodreamspress@tiscali.co.uk
Being There – Ronnie Goodyer
On the morning-moist edge of Chase Woods
fallen conkers are protected in their
green sputnik cases, lying in a firebed
of wounded autumn leaves. Under the rising sun
the trees are black; to each side a painter
has daubed the canopy with diffused orange.
My dog is a steam train running against
a barrage of birdsong. I’m in a margin of nostalgia
in some spent photograph.
The sloping rows of blackcurrants drop an arc
to the meadow, the gaps between shining
as warming ice, as dew and light live their
daily awakening. There is a reproduction of shadows
in this molten sealing wax of vision.
On this church-chime Sunday, it doesn’t
matter if we loved once; it doesn’t matter
if we’ve never met; it doesn’t matter if our
paths will never cross again. What matters
is that when I exhale this, you sense the air,
my breath the failing breeze you feel;
when I look to the far spire you too will see
across the fields with me, there on the book
in your hand, on every single wall you own,
in whatever direction you care to look.
It’s the only important thing this ennobled moment:
Being there.
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