Tag Archives: poet

silence 

In a world full of noise,

Time out.

Silence


Rotation, collision.

Sample the joy of

outer

space.

 

Not

a trickle,

breath from the breeze,

hanging raindrop off

growing leaves;

not

a

single

roar after dawn;

not

a

single

cry from

wild dogs, hyena, cheetah,

hunter’s own –

not

a

morning

sound from the land,

high pitch crossing legs from

hoppers clung to

the meaning of

grassland…


Now 

try harder.


Not

a

sound wave, echo from your

device to

mine;

golden

smiley gone

after nine,

as am explained the rule of

Pi in

a

lesson doused by

north sun;

where

gas & dust glide and

gather,

give

birth to new stars in

cradles, in the

most

natural motion,

cosmic and bright in a

circle.
© Nat Hall 2017


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worldwide

Excellent news from Nordland Publishing! A few days ago, I received a message from a blog reader regretting not to be able to order Compass Head directly from her own island-continent, Australia. I relayed the message to my publishers in Norway, who, not only were concerned, but have now made for amends. And they did more.

Now, this geopoetics in action and in full motion. That peerie yoal has already travelled far and wide. Let it reach YOU.

“Row, row your boat” as the tune says…

compass-head-book-cover From now on, dear reader, you can now reach out to Compass Head DIRECTLY from practically WORLDWIDE, including Australia, China, India, Brazil, as well as other amazing places on Earth! So jump on the boat and, fair wind, sailors, and join in all those who have already enjoyed the ADVENTUROUS journey from The Songs from the North 🙂 Just CLICK ON the LINKs!

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in my own words…

 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 onpaper-and-wordse 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.

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fluttering (2)

   
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. 

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impromptu 

    
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

Wild, 

impromptu, 

unwanted gale that

tossed our season inside out –

my westside windows 

filled with salt,

I imagine

silent skylarks

tucked in imaginary grass

voar needs to weave

in between 

storms

and

seas of glass…

Until Monday’s final hours,

body & heart inside Shetland’s

finest of wool.

© Nat Hall 2016 

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March extraordinaire

   I always have to make things up to distract my heart from this one.
Month of rainbows, dark and tears, March is the wild beast in my head. This year, for the very first time, it feels somewhat different.

Time-tight schedules, activities that keep my soul right off the edge of oblivion, March is flying like a comet.

   Some extraordinary meeting with amazing poets, including freshly former Makar (Scotland’s National Poet) Liz Lochhead – as pictured above – during a night of poetry at the Shetland Library; whilst reconvening with Welsh-born Emma van Woerkom, on a short-stay on the island for our local fire festival (SMUHA) proved so much light and breaths of fresh air!   

 Such two slices of life took me temporarily from my ivory tower,  as Compass Head is mutating into a book 🙂

     Light has returned on the island, and with it, the spirit of #voar, “planting season” as we know it on the windswept, wild 60N latitude.
There’s still a few miles to go, but it looks bright till publication. 

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nor, north, northern

Three, 

Always a trio of filled thoughts, poetic worlds – three books are gracing my Nordic bookshelf during long stormy winter nights.

  
One I know well, as a project curated “south” and yet so close to the tip of my fountain pen, inside which some of my heart flows, tattooed in black on blank pages… It is a world close to my home.

And yet I delve back inside time, familiar names without faces from a family of writers. The editor harnessed our verve inside a long house for nine months that would allow us to tie gods, Giants, dwarves, elves within stanzas, prose or music. How I loved each of those nine realms.

  
And then two more about the north.

   I feel avid and yet humble to discover two fellow poets from the house.
My every night filled with their words, universes bound inside pages so distinctive – songs from the north. You too can discover their realms, travelling prints through sun & snow.

  
Delectable through my northern edge, 60N. 

Both titles found on  Amazon 🙂

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