Thundering Atlantic

Another Golden Shovel poem, with opening lines from Seamus Heaney’s poem ‘North’.   You and I have finally returned. We found our way back to roots and branches of a family tree, long buried in a small churchyard near a strand in the wave-hammered storm-swept curve and wind-whispering embrace of a west coast bay. We […]

Digging for poems

My response to dVerse Meeting the Bar: the Golden Shovel Form   Above, below and in between I trace familiar features with my Fumbling, feathery finger. Up, down, under and Over, I feel well-worn skin with my Tentative thumb Memorising the Tensions before I squat Over the ink pot, filling a pen That rarely rests Knowing […]