Night Populous – A Little Self Promotion…

A great, short poetic video about the homeless in my hometown of Manchester.

theslippedinkblog

 

Not normally one to self promote like this but I worked on a project with some very talented people and the final result is this poem short film that I think the guys have done a great job with.  Night Populous was written by me a while ago about homelessness in Manchester, and when my friend asked about doing a creative project together I instantly thought of this piece and the guys who did the film and sound ran with it.  The end result is something I am really proud of – my part is small, I provided the words, but the filming and sound etc was my friends’ great work.  Please watch this.

 

View original post

Advertisements

In Vain, We Stand, Before The Dying Sun

Late afternoon: my son and daughter, on the way home from school, try to get warm in the anaemic, atomic flush.

On A Wistful New Year’s Day

Thought I would share this from last year’s New Year’s Day. I started this year much as I did in 2016: having a brew stood on the step, watching the rain and a gliding gull overhead. But last year I went on to make a sad discovery in the local woods.

City Jackdaw

I sat outside in the back garden with a hot cup of tea, coat fastened, watching the milky coming of dawn. I can do this as I don’t drink these days, my New Year’s Day vigil no longer debilitated by the night before.

All of the neighbouring houses were in darkness, the windows dark, sightless eyes. There was no sign of life at all. Human life, that is.

The morning was scored by the constant rattle of a magpie, hidden from view. They nest in a huge tree beyond one of the houses, but the tree appeared bare, empty both of leaves and birds.

The call went on. Perhaps the chatter-rattle was bird-talk for come on-it’s morning!

In the spring and summer I plant flowers for the birds and bees, then switch  my allegiance to the birds in autumn and winter, putting out food at dawn and dusk. I hadn’t…

View original post 669 more words

nor, north, northern

My book and a glimpse of a poem, along with two other books, feature in this post by Nat Hall, the next and soon-to-be crowned Songs Of The North poet. I will let you guys know when her book is out. In the meanwhile, check out her post on the link below.

Source: nor, north, northern

As I Walked Out One Evening

The evening in question was some weeks ago, when summer still reigned and the evenings were balmy. Through the twisted coils of a barbed wire fence, we looked on towards the local cricket ground, the grass barely stirring in the light, confidential breeze.

image

Within sight of hard-earned victories of edged fours and triumphant sixes, where better, when the light is fading, than a lonely cemetery? It is not often, in crepuscular twilight, that the eye is drawn to the ground, and rewarded by life in silent, still form.

image

The stillness was broken by the call of birds returning to roost in routine rounds: blackbirds and starlings and, yes, jackdaws, crossing the sky in large, raucous numbers. Black, canvas flags, loose and adrift.

image

The day passed the baton to night in faltering glory. The air sweet and temperate, prophets were not yet speaking of russets and absence, as the light died blissfully and unresisting. Our sleep was restful; our dreams fired.

image

When The Winds Gust, The Leaves Turn

Today is the Autumn Equinox. From now on, the days become shorter, the nights grow longer.

But I don’t lament: Winter is my favourite season, and Autumn heralds the beginning of my favourite half of the year. I stock up on my books as we turn inwards, batten down the hatches, light the fire. Begin to revel in the dark and the storms.

This year, please, let there be snow.

image