Islander - by
A few treeless meadows awaited your text
amid the overtones of Rackwick where next
to scriptory herds, you sermonised to shoals
how poetry’s an archipelago of souls:
Orkney Islands
Hoy Sound - by
Artist’s publication
Hoy Sound - by
Scroll
Well Park Lane - by
We all
/ Expect
/ Literature to
/ Look special…
A Memory of Death - by
Nineteen fifty six was a momentous year,
/ The year of Suez…
Seivin Verses for GMB - by
They are fermin the fower winds:
/ Five grey- stemmed daffodils
/ on the hill abuin Eynhallow
/ that whirlmagig air intil pouer.
/
/ Aa Simmerdim on Flotta…
Bela Lugosi in Stornoway - by
I was definitely typed, doomed
to be an exponent of evil
Pish - by
Privilege or necessity of age
/ this twice or thrice nightly quitting
/ warm pit for a slash in the dark?
/
/ Not that…
The Scale of Things - by
There’s a whole country at the foot of the stone
/ If you care to look
/ These are the stones we have instead…
Beachcomber - by
Sunday, for fear of the elders,
I sit on my bum.
What’s heaven? A sea chest with a thousand gold coins.
The Year of the Whale - by
The old go, one by one, like guttered flames.
/ This past winter
/ …
Hamnavoe Market - by
They drove to the Market with ringing pockets.
/
/ Folster found a girl
/ Who put wounds on his face and throat,
/ Small and…