Blog Archives

The Golf Course, by Guy Fletcher

26/6/2020

Under a deep blue Aegean sky
a thin layer of spring frost
lies on the silent golf course
like stubble on an old man’s face.
The lethargic sun rises and turns
it into shining diamonds and I find
the scene loosens the shackles of my mind.

Shadows dance from trees like ghosts
and a seagull dives into the pond
creating hypnotic transient ripples.
I imagine golfers here long ago
escaping from stress for a while
watching the white ball darting through the air,
their time has gone…but the sun does not care.

Books, by Adrian McRobb

26/6/2020

Falcon 9, by Guy Fletcher

19/6/2020

On these dark times a rocket launched
from the Kennedy space center
into an azure American sky soaring like
a shooting star to the ISS.
What a mixture of fear and adrenaline
For the two astronauts locked inside
following heroes in the sky who've died.

Yes, the spirit of adventure of these men
is a wonder to us earthbound ones,
the perils of the impervious universe
true isolation in a brittle machine,
the ultimate roller coaster ride
yet their eyes will be met with such a view
of the troubled, lovely planet of blue.

Graduation Day at Wagor High School, by Ian Fletcher

19/6/2020

Under burning rays
of a merciless sun
that beats down
from azure skies
they hurl their caps
into the air hoping
they will soar higher
and higher defying
the laws of gravity
as if they have not
a care in the world
so sure of the future
bring what it may
they would not heed
advice from such as I
for indeed this is their day
and my voyage is ending
while theirs has just begun.

Queueing, by Adrian McRobb

19/6/2020

Whenever you see one
you want to join the line
never even knowing
if they'll have it in this time
whatever your after
they'll have it on board?
You must do your penance
to earn your just reward
keeping social distance
fiddling with your phone
at least when your queueing
you know your not alone
finally...your at the front
it's time to buy that beer
the fire alarm starts sounding
"Please keep the building clear!"

My Kingdom, by Mary Wallace

12/6/2020

My kingdom is beneath the bridge
A shopping trolley
One wheel gone
Another contorted, looking to escape
I should tell him there's no escape
I've tried before, it's not possible

A striped companion
His zipper stronger than plastic
Is keeper of the treasury
His sturdiness attracts conflict
Beckons thieves
Invites hostility

They come
Avarice in their eyes
Snarling, we joust for my chattels
Broken umbrella thrusting
Screaming insanely
"Mine, they're mine"

They slink off...
The steel General and I victorious
His crooked wheels stood firm
We reign
For this night
In our Kingdom beneath the bridge

The Makeshift, by Irene Watson

12/6/2020

As was normal,
they stopped at 10am,
called it peacy time;
came down from scaffolding,
up from ground holes,
off from ladders.
They would leave gloves and hard hats
on makeshift tables;
boards strung between perches.
Flasks poured hot tea,
rolls came out of boxes,
jokes were shared,
hands warmed.
Their peace hut was wherever
they could make it.
When a house was watertight,
the peace hut moved indoors.
Then, there was this one time,
when curly fries
were cooked in an oven, shared hot.
Tea mugs were washed in the dishwasher.
They reminisced of that day.

The Squashed Rat, by Ian Fletcher

12/6/2020

I passed a squashed rat
on the road some truck
or car’s wheel having
flattened it into oblivion
like a steamrolled character
in an absurd Disney cartoon
though this poor creature
will never rise up again
its frenetic activity
erased in an instant
leading me to think
our little lives amount
to but this, more or less,
when all is said and done,
one moment full of purpose
scurrying about our business
yet in the twinkling of an eye
extinguished into nothingness.

Inchcree, by Adrian McRobb

12/6/2020

A months rain
has fallen
in 24 hours
the water furious
plumes and cascades
forcing through
the rocks
pulverising
the stones below
who watch
nearly worn away
next year
they will be gone

nearer the top
hatchet nosed and angry
facing the full force
shouting silently
in water roaring debate
they face
the sawmill
of corrosive water
worn into angrier form
bared teeth
and wild eyes
their argument
continues

lower down
in swirling pools
algae grows
feeding dippers
birds and fish
as the rage relents
it sparkles
encouragingly
salmon spawn
herons angle
until the rain
comes again...

Déjà Vu, by Paloma Lenz

12/6/2020

the very fibers of the water,
trees, and plants
stretch, fold over themselves,
tear and rip apart

a gaping hole
left, the stars of the night sky
peeking through; entered
with hopes of understanding

transported to a garden
on the other side of the Earth,
the same solemn tree above
the listless water,
the dreary clouds
whose tears now stream
from my own eyes

relishing every second
of the confusion
until a step forward is taken -
no longer willingly chained
in place
I come to.

The Collector, by Adrian McRobb

5/6/2020

She walks the lonely woods
picking coloured pebbles
from a stream bed
a nest wind blown
goes into her bag
wooden shapes
like faces
pine cones
she will paint
later

the woods are quiet
no-one comes here
so things lie
undisturbed
once long ago
fingers protruded
now long moss grows
as birth creates renewal
so does decay
mushroom and wild garlic
patient years
and long shadows
until the collector

collecting the unusual
to decorate her home
her pockets are full
of feathers
a bird fascination
collaged into crows
to keep stuffed owls
and dancing mice company
the woods
are coming home...

Blue Ice by Guy Fletcher

5/6/2020

"Things fall apart" - Yeats.

All is calm under the antarctic sun:
seagulls and sea lions scavenge
then there's a crack like a giant creaking gate
and the towering ice sheet collapses
ensuring the sea is briefly wild.
The people in the boat have mixed feelings:
this is some scoop, a photograph to behold
but tragedy in the land of the cold.

Nothing is permanent, "thing's fall apart,"
and next day all is tranquil again,
distant clouds like the ghost
of the mighty ice-cliff that's fallen.
Icebergs drift and the blue ice
has retreated but still far from finished
yet thousands of miles away on the shore
the water creeps up... Just a little more.

Spaceship, by Guy Fletcher

5/6/2020

In these lonely troubled times
I feel I'm in a spaceship
drifting through the indifferent universe
just like the Earth itself.
I think I'm going slightly mad,
in the night I stare outside the bedroom
to view the stars and moon from my soft tomb.

Yes, I feel I'm in a spaceship,
Ground Control to Major Tom,
I can still contact Planet Earth
but it's a light year from face-to-face
and memories haunt my soul,
like many longing to be free again,
but for now in this spaceship ...I I remain

The Ballad of Kirstie and Tommy, by Gordon Lawrie

5/6/2020

Something a little different this week. Today, I was supposed to be attending the wedding of a lovely couple who had finally got around to doing the deed. Then along came coronavirus...

This is dedicated to couples everywhere whose plans have been similarly sent sideways.

How in the world did it come to this?
It wasn't meant to be
Instead of a wedding sealed with a kiss
There's only you and me
The party's cancelled, the band's left town
The guests have all stayed at home
We're left to party with no one around
So we'll celebrate on our own

It might be June, but it's pouring with rain
These empty glasses should be filled with wine
We're standing on the platform, having missed the train,
Don't worry, it'll all be fine.

Standing outside of our house by the sea,
Wondering what we did wrong
But look at the stars, what will be will be
It'll all be right before long
And there's always tomorrow, as you've always said
For all the things we planned
We still have each other, and the kids are in bed
So come on now, take my hand

It might be June, but it's pouring with rain
These empty glasses should be filled with wine
We're standing on the platform, having missed the train,
Don't worry, it'll work out fine.

They're lyrics to a song, of course. And here we are, a bit rough and ready for any number of reasons but particularly the haste, so I hope you'll make allowances. You'll get the idea, at any rate. Thanks to my wife Katherine for the impromptu backing vocals – GL

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