It's just about the enjoyment of distilling an idea or image into a few short lines or paragraphs, capturing a scene through a filter of self. Mostly I'm inspired by vast landscapes, mountains, city walks and how they play into that day's preoccupations. I'm not sure there's any kind of linking theme, or indeed style, but they're hugely cathartic to write.
Written while reflecting on the shapes of gullies and runnels that funnel debris down crags in winter.
A poem inspired by an afternoon’s birdwatching and the idea of interconnectedness. I was watching a heron stood stark still at the side of the lake before it launched itself at a passing fish.
One of a couple of poems I wrote after a week spent traversing areas of the Cairngorm plateau in winter and complete whiteout conditions.
A poem about a wonderful mountain in the NW Highlands, whose name translates as something like 'The Anvil'. It's a narrow ridge with towers of Torridonian sandstone, perfect for winter mountaineering on a calm day.
One of several poems I've written about Humberston Fitties, the salt flats and marshes just beyond Cleethorpes where I'd spend Sunday afternoons birdwatching with my Dad.