My Blog

Category: Poetry

  • Jigtime

    Corporation Road II   On my red swing I swept high as its iron chains allowed, the sky   I rushed toward disdained to gather me; I birded up, dizzied by its blue, its ungovernable clouds –   come back, said the Earth I have your shadow.   Kathleen Jamie,  The Bonniest Companie, Picador 2015…

  • Adamantine

    After a jolly nice scone with coffee at an Edinburgh garden centre, and a good blether with Rosemary and Susan,  I was reminded of this lovely poem by D H Lawrence. Bavarian Gentians Not every man has gentians in his house in Soft September, at slow, Sad Michaelmas. Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark…

  • Summer-y

    Oh good grief, I was sure I had posted at least once  in June, outwith Dad’s birthday, but I see the last one was May 28th.   Poor old BTW always suffers the most appalling neglect in the summer, it’s shocking behaviour and someone somewhere needs a strongly worded email.   In our defence I see that…

  • Fly pie

    I reckon about a month is a long enough gap, jings, who knew?  The intervening period has seen the usual blend of life and all its pleasures, vicissitudes, ironies and fleeting glamours. Stand out items include: making your niece, nephew and sister in law walk along Aberdour beach in a howling gale, whilst happed up…

  • Tolling

    No man is an island, Entire of itself, Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main.. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thy friend’s Or of thine own were:…

  • National Poetry Day

    Rosemary and I exchanged poems yesterday, both by Norman MacCaig. Blue tit on a string of peanuts A cubic inch of some stars weighs a hundred tons – Blue tit, who could measure the power of your tiny spark of energy?  Your hair-thin legs (one north-east, one due west) support a scrap of volcano, four…

  • Equinoctial thoughts

    The January man he goes around in woolen coat and boots of leather. The February man still shakes the snow from off his clothes and blows his hands. The man of March he sees the Spring and wonders what the year will bring, and hopes for better weather.Through April rain the man goes down to…

  • When I Consider How My Light is Spent

    When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; “Doth God exact day-labour, light…

  • Vision Off

    Enduring some antics on behalf of the PC, erstwhile abode of the photo archive.  The in house tech team has marshalled all his resources and performed miracles in restoring a semblance of normality, at a particularly trying time work wise for both of us, so yet again huge respect is due. Updating BTW on the…

  • Downside

    It would appear that our PC has given up the ghost, the deus ex machina is taking an extended leave of absence, the hamster in the wheel has taken the huff.  I shan’t be able to post any more 2016 pictures (who said hooray?) unless I upload them to the laptop and for the record…