I toy with the thought of
touching the Moon that
hangs out in
this dark blue sky;
tide turns in
your favour, on that last weekend of
I feel its pull, rolled up in
I lit a tea light in your name, and
let the lantern on the deck, for
you to find me in
mørke, mørkin, in murky night, where
the Moon shies here in
thin clouds, between my world and
summer tides – where Angle shades fly to the flame, where your voice vanishes with
© Nat Hall
Sandwick, 26 July 2018.
Note: Mørkin, from the Norwegian, mørke, dark(ness)
Filed under 2018, 60N, Arcania, arts, colours, earth, fire, geopoetics, home, humanity, irishness, island, life, light, literature, north, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, summer, verse, verse poetry, woman, world, writing
Six wonderful days in the great Scottish city of culture.
Reconvening with friends, meeting old and new ones – treading on flagstones and cobbles uncharted till then…
Book launch, Open Mic’ reading… Now Compass Head introduced, well received and since well shelved in Renfrew Street.
With gracious thanks to Christie Williamson and Hazel Frew for rolling the ball, Chris Tait for a great crack, Basil for homing the verse at tell it slant and orchestrating that marvellous night at the Project Café, and to E for being here all along.
So lovely to meet up with Elizabeth Rimmer at the Clutha Bar for Jim Ferguson’s book launch and blending with Glasgow poets that same night.
So chuffed to share such precious slices of life with precious friends.
Felt so welcomed at the Project Café as well as any public place treaded into. Glasgow shines through the folk who make the place!
Till my next visit, Sláinte, Glesga!
Filed under 2018, 60N, Arcania, arts, blogging, book, celebration, colours, community, Compass_Head, earth, geopoetics, home, images, island, launch, life, light, literature, north, poet, poetry, poets, scotland, shetland, spirit, spring
Compass Head has come home, or should I rather use “returned” home yesterday, as I found my own copy in the postbox.
Funny enough, I had tidied up my main writing table the night before, when I notably found the original paper manuscript, still inside its blue plastic binder, with each piece tightly typed and protected by a plastic pocket.
What a journey it has taken, from regular wandering in between writers’ groups right from the start… Ninian’s Café in Bigton, Bowlers’ Bar in Lerwick and various private houses in between Weisdale and West Burrafirth, before we (as the Westside Writers) settled at the Whiteness & Weisdale Hall. Until last December, it was confined within the delimited coastline of the Auld Rock.
And then the digital manuscript turned a galley, as it travelled East, across tides of our shared North Sea, to Norway. It slid across that much loved latitude of 60N.
You could think of the auld Viking trails and sea routes, amazing waterways as those borrowed by the Northmen… I love this concept.
So, if we follow such line of thought, we could mention a homecoming, or, as we call it here in Shetland, a hamefarin.
Welcome back home, Compass Head.
Compass Head, as viewed from Sumburgh Head.
Filed under 2016, 60N, Arcania, blogging, celebration, earth, geopoetics, home, island, lerwick, library, literature, migration, north, poet, poetry, project, roots, shetland, shetlandarts, shore, spirit, spring, verse, verse poetry, vikings, welcome
If I went wild on Saturday with my gang of kindred spirits right on the edge of the island, admiring with awe the raw beauty of returning Red-Throated Divers reinstated on their summer lochs & lochans, those everlasting mesmerising cliffs battered by time, salt & ocean, and listened to skylarks at the narrowest isthmus- yes, the world famous Mavis Grind – where the strongest of us might be able to throw a stone in both the North Sea & Atlantic, Sunday was tossed like a pancake, with Force 12 winds battering us as if we were still in winter…
To sum it up, here comes a short piece from my pen.
Easter by the Hearth
unwanted gale that
tossed our season inside out –
my westside windows
filled with salt,
tucked in imaginary grass
voar needs to weave
seas of glass…
Until Monday’s final hours,
body & heart inside Shetland’s
finest of wool.
© Nat Hall 2016
Filed under 2016, 60N, Arcania, atlantic, blogging, earth, fire, geopoetics, home, island, life, north, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, spring, wind