The Future - by
Doncha see the future
brightening like a golden sunset?
poems about poets
Fishing With Norman MacCaig - by
Each time I called for him he was perfectly ready,equipment checked and in smooth order,pared to essentials. And I, cluttered with gadgets,would clatter behind as he led the way downstairs. In the boat, as befits a sedulous angler,he was taciturn, though between essential wordshe would give that courteous, gentle smilethat was his signature, before his […]
three fish - by
Box work
In Memoriam 1971 - by
Certain women. And some young boys.
/ Women with some uncertainties
/ but something they knew about
/ that made them need to say something.
/ Two of…
Except for Iain - by
Except for Iain, who looks both found & lost, / already haunted by his own baffled ghost…
The Interior - by
A lifetime of work to own a house / then you end up diminished by it.
Craiglockhart - by
Sassoon, the elder, Sunday golfer; / Owen, bookish, gangly, pale – mingling / with the queue for the refectory.
In the Mid-Midwinter - by
the light comes back
the light always comes back
Laugharne Churchyard in 1954 - by
Three thousand miles and nearly half a year
/ Away from a drab November afternoon, hysterics
/ Of friends forgotten, and also the plain…
For Willie Soutar, October 1943 - by
Twenty year beddit, and nou
/ the mort-claith.
/ This suld gar ilk ane grue,
/ …
Cemetery By the Sea - by
Remembering Tessa Ransford, 1938–2015
/
/
/ When Gavin circulated the news
/ I shed a tear or two that early autumn day.
/ What else…
A delivery of dung - by
No piece of art is perfect. / All it has to do is stay around / for two hundred, or…