Monsoon Then - as diamonds - stratospherical broadcasts, cast out live across the sea. His homeland glinted, dressed up in bijouterie, but - held to the light - the faultlines of el último respiro. Breathed in, the elements became fast, masters of magical acts: somehow, on a back street of history - blockaded, … Continue reading A poem by Andrew F Giles
Tag: Scottish Writing
Two poems by Richie McCaffery
The truth so far In the chalky trough under the blackboard, lessons dusted and already forgotten. The teacher is squawking away once more, scratching into the tabula rasa the truths so far about God and arithmetic with the expungible white of fossil shells. (first published in The Rialto; from Spinning Plates, Happenstance Press, … Continue reading Two poems by Richie McCaffery
‘Child’ by Marion McCready
Child The field has drowned and turned into a tideless sea. Flower shapes rise from a toddler’s broken ribs. Beyond the head of a loch a broken swing hangs from a tree. His body bruises in the dark, he has learned to be quiet. Clouds drag their shadows over hills, ridges, fields of sheep. … Continue reading ‘Child’ by Marion McCready
‘Now Read On’ by John Glenday
Now Read On read something no one has ever written down the heartfelt lies the downright truths read all the gathered silences in the drop of ink that marks where this sentence ends and your life begins. John Glenday is the author of three collections of poetry. The most recent, Grain (Picador, 2009) … Continue reading ‘Now Read On’ by John Glenday
‘The Babies’ by Bill Herbert
The Babies I’m driving at night through the countryside trying to decide what it is the countryside is to the side of. Since we all already share a perfectly good roadside – perhaps it’s beside this. Certainly there is more to it than verge: it also has an underneath of sexton beetle, a canopy of … Continue reading ‘The Babies’ by Bill Herbert
‘Solstice’ by Pippa Little
The shortest day: dusk falls like a stone to earth. Yellow, with greenness of lemons in it. Carpet of snow the long night, a lopped pelt, dog or wolf. Yet, light in unexpected places. “I have come through.” My house, a traveller returned, baring the small, lit window of its heart. In-gathering of … Continue reading ‘Solstice’ by Pippa Little
A poem by Andrew F Giles
Astrology You’d ordered it, the sky – unpacked it at dawn, decanted the moon into your hipflask: the things we are led to believe stars grown in sleeves like flowers, signs in a scrapbook, as in science. The stratosphere arches its humpback, that much is true, yawns massively … Continue reading A poem by Andrew F Giles
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