changing the world
in the charity sector -
glued to computers.

local festival -
why is the beer tent so far
from the music stage?


Edinburgh Tree Fest

Shells

(Morecambe Bay, February 2004)

Grey skies, cold and bitter wind
a share of a damp mattress
in an unheated room.

You follow orders from the brother
to the man who let your cousin die
in a truck approaching Dover.

Your parents wait back home
with nothing but pain and a photo of you
smiling through the English rain.

Shells held to your ear
murmured promises, but they are empty
here in devil’s beach.

Treacherous sands shift
impossible to know where is safe
where will suck away your life.


Speaking freely for Read Write Poem

reposted for Refugee Week

What does Home mean to You?

From film festivals to football tournaments, comedy nights to carnivals, exhibitions, workshops, parties and much, much more, Refugee Week Scotland (15-21 June 2009) is an exciting programme of events happening across the country to celebrate diversity and raise awareness of refugee issues.

This year the theme of Refugee Week is HOME. For many refugees and asylum seekers, a new home in Scotland means safety from persecution and a life without fear. But what does home mean to you?

Home for me is Edinburgh, Crafty Green Boyfriend, goth clubs, the Filmhouse bar and of course the natural environment. You can read more about that last over on Crafty Green Poet, which is my natural blogging home.

I'll be posting poetry on the theme of Home during Refugee Week.

Meanwhile what does home mean to you? If you're in Scotland and want to include your thoughts on home in your blog, please include the first two paragraphs and link to Refugee Week Scotland 09 in your post.

Scots in Malaŵi

I recognised my student Rose
by the Bank of Scotland t-shirt she chose
to wear to class before her uniform arrived.

I found my way around the map
by following traces of a certain chap
called Livingstone as we have presumed.

From Mzuzu to Malindi
the place is full of Scots of inde-
pendent spirit and enquiring mind.

Even Banda was a Scot
by formation as near as not.

But the shops sell Coca Cola and never Irn Bru.




previously published in my pamphlet Bougainvillea Dancing

for more about the connections between Scotland and Malawi, visit the Scotland Malawi Partnership website.

Hyperlinking my poetry for Read Write Poem. The best idea is to read the poem all the way through and then follow the links to find out more. I'm not sure how much creative, rather than informative value there is in adding hyperlinks to poetry, but i think its worth looking into. What do you think?

St Cuthbert's Churchyard, Edinburgh

More photos from the same walk on Crafty Green Poet here.

Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn

This is a wonderful book, extremely clever in both concept and execution! It is set in a fictional island whose residents are gradually deprived of the use of certainl letters of the alphabet. The story is told through letters, written by residents of the island, which naturally don't contain the banned letters. The language therefore becomes more and more restricted. The whole narrative is a reflection on the insidiousness of censorship and the way that censorship and wider political repression affect people's lives, how people react and how they adapt to censorship. A vital and entertaining read for our times.

Skin Deep - an update

I got my contributor's copy of Skin Deep yesterday and it's beautiful! I mean even if you never read the poems in this book, its a work of art to treasure. Even better, the poems are excellent too!

You can buy a copy here!

Many thanks to Claire, for producing such a gorgeous book and for including one of my poems in it!

gallery quiet -
shattered by loud opinions
of old ladies.

My Life as a Mafia Widow

It's something about the Italian shape of your nose
something that lurks in the shadows in oddly compelling Mafia films
the unexpected gia visto of Sciasca's sentences
that I absorb untaught in the original

old nightmares of being chased down cobbled streets to my death
start to make some kind of sense

and my face on my passport photo
looks like some Sicilian widow
as I was when Cosa Nostra stole you away
in our last life

and still in this one
you never speak to me
while your girl
practices mourning,

Mafia style

gia visto - deja vu

Cosa Nostra - Mafia

Re-imagining my life for Read Write Poem