On This Day My Book Was Born

My debut poetry collection is three years old today.

Happy Birthday Heading North!


Working on a young sibling for you.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Heading-North-2-Songs/dp/8283310097/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1544134083&sr=1-1&keywords=heading+north

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Spider Webs

From my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Spider Webs

A paucity of lines 
to begin with,

held by examples 
of faith
unattached
to a creed,

forming into white,
frosted webs,
rising to be
a tangle of sky,

prone to bead
on dew-dusted mornings,

each tremulous
strand

born of hunger
and longing.





©AndrewJamesMurray

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Crows

Crows

A disheartening of crows
gathered in winter fields.

Naked trees 
from disused rail road tracks,

dark stains
on white linen.

In trust we are led
through this stark terrain,

senses soaked
in sparse liquor,

a hungry air tasting our flesh,

a murmuring 
of hardened, thirsting 
soil.

They rise, wheeling,
across the sky,

black flecks of mortality
in widening whites of eyes.





©AndrewJamesMurray

Word Jam #7

Quote

From my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Drum snare rainfall

an electric wildfire 
swept over insane asylums

scattering survivors
of cold reason
to hinterlands of smoulder

If my numbers come up tonight
she will declare undying love

and I shall stake claims
in the sand
sentimental fool that I am






©AndrewJamesMurray

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Orkney Odyssey 3: Time Tells

Feeling the need to return.

City Jackdaw

There is a romanticism and a melancholy to the islands.

An echo of times past. A hint of meaning that lies just beyond the wind. Meaning whose origin is adorned by labels: Norse, Pictish, Neolithic. A procession of markers that will outlive us all.

I wonder if living here day after day, year after year, causes you to be blasé about it all? Do the markers become invisible, blending in with the rest of the storm-shaped landscape?

I remember seeing a documentary a few years back about people living in the Scottish Highlands. Among all that natural beauty and dramatic vistas, the young ones were bored to death. They said that visitors would tell them how lucky they were to be living there. They would reply that there was never anything to do. They would amuse themselves by sending travelling tourists in the opposite direction of the landmarks that they…

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