Tag Archives: poem

Hiroshima

No siren or red flag,

high from blue sky without warning.

I should have read each 

little sign, but

June began

bright, so

hazy – 

bluebells 

untouched in the garden,

air filled with 

     song from summer birds –

curlews, skylarks and

                        bold blackbirds.

In between Lino and floorboards,

our frantic feet would

slide through time;

and imagined 

                yours on tarmac about to

                       to leap out through

             thick clouds.

High from

blue sky without 

warning,

one 

     single ring,

                your frantic voice,

                      shaped one single cloud

champignon,

          and felt that bright light,

                       blasted heart –

one final blow without 

warning. 

Nat Hall 2017

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Vagvísir

Now, to a darker one…

Have you chosen your place of death?

Is it in the shade of blossoms, 

where the 

wind 

blows to carry words

no 

one will 

know? Or 

is it outside a

lighthouse – where 

whiteness stands so 

close to

gold,

where

maalies* glide,

the great wild bairn* 

free and 

shameless?

Now, in

the 

eye of

the compass,

you see the meaning of

your birth –

your talisman 

in between breasts,

the 

tattoo of

staves in circles;

what’s left of

It lives inside you,

deep inside

the womb of the dead, and 

yet you need me

as a

guide – as

no one points to

their last 

breath.
Notes:

(From Shetland dialect)

maalies: fulmar petrels 

bairn: child 
© Nat Hall 2016 

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Filed under 60N, Arcania, geopoetics, home, island, life, literature, north, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, verse, verse poetry, vikings, winter, wordplay

Heading North Is Here!

Here, here, poetry from fellow poet Andy Murray: available for your bookshelf. His initial post read as follows:

The day has finally arrived: my poetry collection, Heading North, is published today by Nordland Publishing. I’ve seen a preview copy and I’m really pleased with it, and proud of its inclusion into Nordland’s Songs Of The North series. The blurb on the back of the book reads: Andrew James Murray is a writer and poet from Manchester, […]

https://cityjackdaw.wordpress.com/2015/12/06/heading-north-is-here/

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blue

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blue on the orange cloud

blue

Isa,
rune of ice,
written as I,
in prey to time, there,
motionless;
found in blue boreal forest,
rooted inside depth of winter,
where frost records
prints of our souls in icicles.
As you descend into
our world,
trees bear homage to
your static sense of ego –
they may recite those words for
snow, so many eyes
deep in cold air,
born of lone
clouds in
a blind
sky.
That woman’s voice in
the forest, with
a piano,
calls
for
her child
somebody
turn in a snowflake.

© Nat Hall 2015

2 Comments

August 26, 2015 · 11:20 pm

together

Here,
as gales gradually sweep away the harshness of winter, and birds begin to fill our sky with slightly bolder songs, a poem of love 🙂

Together

Now come undone.

Into
the garden
they gathered,
in between branches and
dawn’s pearls, as
blue dominated their
world, and
blackbirds dreamt
deep in ivy;

Asleep
they fell on satin
leaves,
as sunrise
burnt their game of
lust,
entangled in
jet black
iris
that
fell to prey,
pleasure & dust…

As furtive as dawn may vanish,
they will nestle in secret
leaves,
feel
warmth from an
afternoon
sun,
flutter
along sweet
summer breeze,
in an orchard charged with
apples, cherries & love.

© Nat Hall 2015

through the green

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Filed under 2015, 60N, Arcania, birds, celebration, colours, earth, fire, geopoetics, home, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, spring, verse poetry, wind, world, writing

Giants

A poem in anticipation to spring tides 🙂

Earth Giants

Tell me the story of the stone.

Behind each
rock stands a giant.

Old Man of Storr has a brother
on an island North by
North East,
lost
in
darkness
most of winter,
who
answers to
Old Man of Hoy –

Ancient headlands
now separated
by a shore;
how do they
grow is a mystery
only water carves deep in
time…

And if you
obey your compass,

you will
enter the dragon’s
den & face its
teeth,
polished by
sleek North Atlantic & ballroom
moon laced inside
tides;
salt,
satin sari
Nordic style.

They are immobile
travellers in
the face
of
seafaring stars.

© Nat Hall 2015

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stirring

Les prémices
(Early Stirrings)

It
has
begun.

Earthly
murmurs,
February in 2 digits,
that’s when town birds begin to
sing –
twenty
past nine,
sparrows engage in
real chatter,
starlings
gather at the
gutter to yarn & sip from
last night’s rain…
Echoing gulls round
Bressay Sound
call to a sky
made
of
graphite
inside a world of
statistics,
like his pencil on
plain paper.

© Nat Hall 2015

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Filed under 2015, 60N, Arcania, birds, colours, earth, geopoetics, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, spring, verse, verse poetry, writing