home blind man came to the isle, said now I have parameters I hear the surf I hear the birds my eyes can’t map which way they come my hands can’t tell their shape the voices of the wind and birdsong tell me all I need to …
The Snow Man One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of the January sun; and not to think …
Hearsay At the back of my mind, there is always the freight-line that no longer runs in a powder of snow and footprints from that story we would tell of the girl from the next house but one who should have been tucked up in bed when she went astray, a huddle of wool in …
In Praise of Being Peripheral Without philosophy, tragedy, history, a red squirrel looks very busy. Light as a soul released from a painting by Bosch, its greens and vermilions stripped off it. He climbs a tree that is equally ahistoric. His heart beats harder. Jane Hirshfield (1953 – ) from The Beauty (Bloodaxe:2015) To me …
This year National Poetry Day is on Thursday 6 October 2022 and the theme is The Environment. National Poetry Day is the annual celebration on the first Thursday of October that encourages everyone to make, experience and share poetry with family and friends. To mark National poetry day, the Scottish Poetry Library is working with …
Prelude no.2 Two truths draw nearer each other. One moves from inside, one moves from outside and where they meet we have a chance to see ourselves. He who notices what is happening cries despairingly: “Stop! Whatever you like, if only I avoid knowing myself.” And there is a boat that wants to put in …
Living with the News Can I get used to it day after day a little at a time while the tide keeps coming in faster the waves get bigger building on each other breaking records this is not the world that I remember then comes the day when I open the box that I remember …
As the trees around Arran are being harvested, Voice reader Elizabeth Ross sent in this poem. Thank you Elizabeth, for sharing your work… Trees They stood in whispering silence, fifty years tall. When they were born so were my children Who grew with energy, running and shouting, While the trees just stood, quiet, moved only …
The Fired Schoolteacher Three characters of proven banality accost each other with diverse poetical phrases (got a match, I beg of you, what time is it, how many leagues to the next town?), in an indifferent countryside and engage in a conversation whose echoes will never reach us. Before you is the twenty-acre field: I …
By Alice Maxwell On Friday 13th May the Scottish poet Stuart B Campbell led a trek up the Goatfell valley from Corrie, with a group of would-be poets, myself included. Stuart was born in Lanark and was commissioned to write the poetry for the book The Great Mountain Crags of Scotland and for the award-winning …