Thrilled, humbled and honoured to join in a trio of fine Shetland writers (prose & poetry) to an evening of the spoken word & stories bound by the centenary of George McKay Brown at WordPlay, Scotland’s most northerly book festival.
The writing of the great Stromness man of letters has fashioned and influenced island writing as it has influenced the way we speak and celebrate our Northern Isles and beyond.
Each one of us nestled our work among the celebration of the word through the announcement of winners from the 2021 Young Writers of the Year Awards, the very cradle of Shetland’s future writers.
When one’s love of a great author nestles admiration, her creative spirit and verve on paper to a fabulous collective and ends up in a major literary body of work.
I, the poet, feel humbled by such accolade & participation to the great edifice – brainchild from friend and fellow poet, Makar at our Federation Writers (Scotland) and compagnon d’écriture, Jim Mackintosh, through time.
Together, we celebrate George Mackay Brown’s centenary through a wonderful anthology titled very aptly Beyond the Swelkie now ready to pre-order.
In such extraordinary and industrious comes a first fruit, which has ripened well.
Now official :
I am very honoured and privileged to map Shetland at COP26 Glasgow through The Great Scottish Canvas this September with the publication for the great event later this autumn, and live reading of my selected poem to our Scottish MSPs as part of Climate Fringe, which will go live in due time.
I am very humbled this poem, very close to my heart, is journeying in so many directions so far. Shortlisting it at such level was so unexpected. Tis also voice recorded for the purpose of the exhibition. Happy poet. 🙂
So much water run through da burn (stream) down to the sea and the ocean, gushing, flowing through da burra, hedder (heather) an paets (peat/turf) keeping us lush beyond nightless nights, Simmer Dim, our eclipsed stars for a moment.
The island has recovered its magical colour palette, Van Gogh luminous style. Through May and June, yellow dominated our roadsides, anchored on water (like Marygold) or mires…
Hues of pink, shades of our Earth preceded white, blotching the greens of our meadows. Delicate petals decorate the narrowness of the landscape; and yet homing our seasonal opera house to the delight of wanderers.
Tis a privilege to listen.
Our ground nesters braved continents, gales, rain and hail to duplicate love in their genes . They picked ancestral patches of peatland, brae (hillside) or grass where they disappear until July…
Wild home world
And yet summer feels short for us all on the island, humans and avifauna.
Banks’ broos (cliffs) lochs an lochans (lakes, big and small) have been teeming with life too, as parenthood fledged around irises or thrift and sea mayweed.
Fresh water world
A privilege to hear them call, or watch them so vulnerable. Our headlands turn operatic till mid-July.
Life on the precarious edge of ocean…
And already, in this season of abundance, da hairst (harvest) has begun, as silage tumbled and wrapped for da winter.
We, islanders on such northern latitude, are privileged with a single hundred days of crop growth in open ground. Silage cut offers open air restaurants to both local and migrating birds from all around the boreal region. Our position in the ocean remains pivotal in their survival for the great trek back south.
Preparing for winter whilst sharing with nature.
And until night returns and we veer back towards the autumn equinox, tis a window of teeming life and overgrowth, on the land, on beaches where colours thrive; inside our wicks an voes (wide and narrow inlets of sea) wildlife flourishes and flows.
Tis simply magic!
Life on this dear Auld Rock.
Now I am fully reconnected with it all.
And wishing you, each and everyone, a wonderful summer fae 60N!
We are never fully aware of things until they skelp (slap) you in the face.
My first drive back north to catch the sunset at Mavis Grind – the gateway to Northmavine, the north end of the main island – turned far darker as I caught windfarm ground work in progress with trucks at rest at the foot of hills along the A970 off Sandwater Loch. My heart sank. So far, I had only gazed at stills and drone footage in social media… All of the sudden, it became real.
For years, I have marvelled at Central Mainland – Sandwater, Kergord, da Lang Kames… Nesting, Voe – legendary places of wilderness teeming with rich and varied life. For years, we have been wrestling with a nightmare that will change life and lives – wild as well as human – forever.
For years, I have walked the shore and shared it openly: take a picture of it all before it is changed for ever.
We have lost a battle.
Yet instead of the expected pictures taken from the roadside, I thought of friend & artist Paul Bloomer’s current project entitled Shadowed Valley.
Whilst Paul has been developing his response on canvas through the main medium of charcoal, selected recent pieces of his work struck me over recent time.
Shadowed Valley by Paul BloomerShadowed Valley by Paul Bloomer
In turn, I am expressing in words as my response to his work. With gracious thanks, Paul, for your kindness & powerful work.
Da Death Valley
Winds of change,
listen to the silent valley.
Through the darklands we now wander –
round da paets’ broos, where
whimbrels nest,
gigantic claws obey men’s will;
among heather & crowberries where
merlins hide their love and genes,
metallic claws slash & plunder deep through
this land where
redshanks call, protect their youngs between a loch and
Peta’s print,
way past the ridges of wir Kames,
Lottie’s Half-Way Hoose and
Nesting.
Shackled men to demon-money only
see gold, far away vaults,
far too oblivious to
ravens,
whimbrels, merlins or
mystic mountain hares, Heather Ling or rich purple bells,
the divine sanctuary of life.
Men dunna ken,
they come with trucks as giant claws rage through wir laand,
da paets’ broos: (Shetland dialect) the edge of eroded peat (turf); da Laang Kames (place-name): the long valley shaped from Sandwater Loch to the Village of Voe and Nesting area; Peta: (from O.N. & Shetland folklore) name given to a giant that fell asleep in the valley of da Laang Kames; “Men dunna ken”: (from Shetland dialect) expression meaning “people don’t know”; wir laand: our homeland.
Last Tuesday night, I heard the shalders call in flight well after dusk for the first time. Too well known avian voices that notably signal a return to warmer days and crystalline dusks… How many days to the Vernal Equinox? For months on end, my nearby playing field filled with silence. And as Mother Earth lives in cycles, hissing gales are gradually giving way to a more clement earthsong. Tis the time for familiar crooners, such as the curlews and oystercatchers, we, on the island, call shalders.
There is an air of impatience, as blackbirds begin to advertise their will to love on chimney stacks – sparrows quarrel around willows, and even robins play dare-devils out of their hide-away stone walls. And if we are still to get away from treacherous March (with its last spells of icicles) rose bushes have begun to display their first leaves. Already, a few daring migrants have made their way to the Island, such as a stonechat in the Westside yesterday… Wildflowers too begin to bud and display their colour, such as the Lesser Celendine and the Coltsfoot showing a bit early!
On our way to Aith Meadows
The daily trip home at the end of the day can now divert away from the main tarmac artery that links South to North. At last, longer days allows us to meander around much more timeless corners of the shared wild and civilised. A drive along the coast, meadows and still heavily waterclogged fields to catch a glimpse of a skylark still to sing. Life is creeping back around our shores. Already golden plovers’ and curlews’ calls fill the still crisp air. So enchanting.
The first sight of a black guillemot in full regalia always feels a priviledge.
Sunrise over Mousa
This will to get out of darkness, witness a glowing sun after eight above a well loved offshore island is contagious.
March remains our month of rainbows, with its cortege of shine and hail, squallid showers & icicles. And as Imbolc now feels a distant memory, our dear great celestial star begins to dominate our world with less shame. It is wakening this hemisphere of Mother Earth with its flamboyant warmth, only to strenghen as we speak and cross the Vernal Equinox, when night and day cross swords to reach out parity. This dormant world needs to emerge and reveal its beauty! For Mother Earth has only one goal, life.
I write because I have things to say. When I don’t, I listen to the world – the wind, the ocean, birds and auroras – and I look up to the stars. The one who stops looking at them forgets. The one who keeps looking at the stars will find his/her footprints in he snow. I live on an extraordinary island that feeds my spirit and imagination. Come and discover my journey, as I have lived my life with a compass in my head.
When writers meet, share and offer work, words and more, Poetics shine.
On the ninth day of July, such thing was done. Inside the stones of the long house, by the harbour, we gathered on shiny floorboards on the first floor, where a mix of faces beamed with delight.
Familiar ones – Kevin, Doug, Marsali, James and Debra… And then new ones who smiled and unleashed most kind words. Among them, the co-editor of Shetland Create, Angie, the grand orchestrator of it all, welcomed us all, eager to meet us in the flesh.
What a splendid night we all had.
One by one we shared words created on the very island where we walk and draw inspiration from.
With such theme as home, selected verse from Compass Head felt so very apt on the night.
Fabulous slice of life shared in the warmth of Lerwick’s Peerie Shop Café – a place where I still come to write – in fabulous company.
Havra, celebrated once more, shining in the limelight, this time thanks to Scottish poet Sally Evans via her blog & brainchild, keeppoemsalive, and featured along other poets Sally enjoys.
Always a peculiar feeling when you taste something different.
Hordaland, Bergen, Bryggen, Straume, Krokeide, Fana, Os. This other side of the North Sea, the western fringe of Norway, along my very 60N latitude, I longed to see, feel, taste with my own heart, turned reality at the start of summer.
All this for the wedding of friends. That leap eastwards for an extended weekend flung new doors wide open. A leap that proved more than a mere one. To reconvene with Anita and François felt such a joy, as much as with Catherine and Iris in Bergen for the celebration, unimaginable, only years ago! We, da peerie Shetland contingent, were made so much welcome by our respective hosts. Magic! I had promised Any a beer in Bergen. We crossed the sea together, I would fulfil my promise; and we did just that. Whereas time vanished like lit gun powder, we made the most of it.
Any and her promised beer
Saturday was Anita and François’ Day, and we had fun! Wonderful, multi-lingual ceremony followed by a great party. Though I was conscious this too would be swallowed by time…
To stop the clock when we are connected in the moment is every man’s dream.
How I too wish to hold our planet still for a while… That race against time cannot be won. I left my friends at the barn in Fana to be reunited with another kindred spirit I had not hugged for a good four years. Precious time.
She, like Annbjørg in Straume, offered me her home as a base. Norwegian hospitality feels as warm as on my side of the North Sea. We yarned very late, slept very little, but shared such a precious slice of life.
Sunday inside her fjord, farm and world. I wished for sea eagles, and Ragni gave me so much more.
Magic Sunday found inside blue, the majesty of Heime, the local équivalent of “hame” (home), starting point of a second collection of poetry now in motion.
So much I have found in such a short time spent on the other side of the sea. So fruitful, inspirational, now I know there is a home on either side of the North Sea.
Poetry is flowing, and, for the very first time, in Norwegian too.
It feels a brand new adventure in the making. My heart now beats on both sides.
Four weeks away from the book launch at the Shetland Library in Lerwick, and heaving a memorable night of celebration, reading and signing on Friday 20 May 2016. Our librarians are fantastic!
There will be special guests, some poets, others, artists (or poets with an instrument).
enjoy Compass Head, and please please please do not forget to bring your copy on 20 May, as I will be more than happy and honoured to sign it at the end of the event.
e who stops looking at them forgets. The one who keeps looking at the stars will find his/her footprints in he snow. I live on an extraordinary island that feeds my spirit and imagination. Come and discover my journey, as I have lived my life with 
nordicblackbird 