Tag Archives: verse

veritas 

  
What do we know of a people sheltered from old Roman dogma?

Isolated from old scriptures that shackled man off his own heart?

The Norsemen  lived under such terms, lived their own lives, free as the wind, so unafraid…

   
They treasured beliefs to the sea, where they would reach their Valhalla. To them, death had its own meaning, glorious to their reputation. 

Immortality through men’s songs… 

Here, as a song to their greatness, 

some brand fresh verse, in time for bed and your own dreams.
Viking 

They say

history down to us…

Like a

river of fire, 

they never feared alien God – 

whatever raid was meant to be, 

in the name of

skin trade & gold, what mattered 

was reputation.

Swing an axe or

a heavy oar,

everything done, 

forever written in your bones. 

© Nat Hall 2016

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poets in arms

auld enemies 1They came, they shared, they went…

Let’s re-phrase.

They came, they spoke, we shared, they went… We are now connected.

Visiting poets on our home turf – Mareel, Lerwick, Shetland for a few hours – met with familiar faces, thanks to Shetland Art’s Literature Development Officer, Donald Anderson. On a particular trail, that of “Auld Enemies“, the brainchild of Steven J Fowler and Ryan Van Winkle, who notably brought along Colin Herd and Ross Sutherland in the Green Room where a few dared to step for an hour of poetry. Their six date tour around Scotland – taking in Dundee, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Lerwick, and Kirkwall – concluded in London.

So we, the featured Shetland poets, L.J. Friedlander, D.S. Murray, J.A, Sinclair and I, joined our visiting poets in some battles of the spoken word before we ceased fire, chatted and smiled. Unique, electric, unusual & memorable event which enabled us to share in a different format, and, for James & I to actually write together for the first time since we have been united by literature. My thanks go to Steven and Ryan for providing such an opportunity. With very best wishes for the upcoming Auld Enemies – Ireland!!! 🙂

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Auld Enemies, Shetland 2014 - Photo courtesy of Steven J Fowler

Auld Enemies, Shetland 2014 – Photo courtesy of Steven J Fowler

What a trek! Before they came to us, they had pit-stopped in Aberdeen, where they blended with other familiar faces & voices, including those of Catriona McLeod and Haworth Hodgkinson – then they stayed a couple of days, to ensure Mr Melville was okay again – and then they joined in other familiar faces in Kirkwall, notably including Pam Beasant.

My thanks go to Steven and Ryan for providing such an opportunity, as well as to Donald Anderson & Shetland Arts for making it happen on our latitude.

With very best wishes for the upcoming Yes But Are We Enemies? -an Irish Enemies Project

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révolution

Bastille Day – a warm blue sky shines above my head on this very day, there is a sense of freedom, filled with birdsong, a gentle breath of SW’Lies… wonder day 🙂 Once a  prison as well as a symbol of oppression where folk ended up (included Voltaire himself!) in the face of utter despotism, the name “Bastille” is remembered as a symbol for a people’s uprising  against injustice, and is today an Opera. I think monsieur Voltaire would applaud to this 🙂

On this 14 July, my much more hbastille dayumble (and yet state-of-the-art) arts’ venue, Mareel,  is hosting the Shetland leg of Auld Enemies – the brainchild of poets Steven J Fowler & Ryan Van Winkle – in which tourist and local poets will set fire to Shetland with groundbreaking work, and we intend to have a blast!

As presented by Shetland Arts: a transnational poetry collaboration where six poets will work in rolling pairs to produce original works for readings across the breadth of Scotland. Each event will also feature numerous pairs of writers from the region, who will be presenting brand new poetry collaborations as well. Auld Enemies is a groundbreaking exploration of contemporary Scottish poetics through the potential of collaboration.

Featuring poets:

– Ross Sutherland
– Nick-e Melville
– Colin Herd
– SJ Fowler
– Ryan Van Winkle,
– Nat Hall
– James Sinclair
– Donald Murray
– Laura Jayne Friedlander & more

Auld Enemies is fundamentally about the creation of new collaborative works and the integration of differing poetic communties, and has only been possible through the generosity of a series of organisational partners, first and foremost Creative Scotland but also the Scottish Poetry Library, Literary Dundee, Summerhall, Shetland Arts, the Orkney Islands Council and Northlink Ferries.

The vibes so far are just thrilling to hear. We are next!

So, if you are still without a ticket for this free event, grab one at the Mareel Box Office!

We are looking forward to seeing you tonight 🙂

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Werewulf

Without question, verse from the dark side of the moon, as I spend moments inside black, in contemplation with absence – in meditation with a question mark.

How do you deal with solitude?
The other day in the classroom, I stared at Morgan’s poetry, stapled among a sea of blue background paper.
There, a carefully cut hyena, with a few lines from his poem.

And then, this line – I am the slave of darkness. The rest emerged from my black pen…

Whereas, part one deals with such folklore creature, part two & three zoom in further into fur & animal print.

This triptych is entitled:Werewulf

With grateful thanks to Edwin Morgan’s Hyena.

1.
Late old English.

I am darkness,
I am the dark side of the blue,
I am so afraid of colours,
I am the killer of
purple,
crimson,
twilight –

I am the howler,
moon’s
hunter,

I am the sharp ivory fangs

I am the saliva heaver,
I am orange eyed inside black,
I am the hunchback of bleak lands,
where heather burns but never blooms;

I am manimal nocturnal,
the outsider with
chiselled
claws,

I am intruder in
your
dreams,

I am the slave in darkness

——-
2.
Wolverine

heavily built,
short-legged meat eater with
a long coat, brown in
colour,
winter-eyed,
bushy-tailed –
native to
tundra & forests,

Gulo gulo,
deep inside white.

———-
3.
dactylogram

an impression of five fingers
on a rock face,
heather,
icecap
or
fresh
snowflakes,

digital dream,
a signature left to
ponder,

dactylographic formula.

© Nat Hall 2014

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noir

I love “creative” accidents.

A day dreamer par excellence, I sometimes lock myself inside a page and lose utter track of time. Such accident certainly happened yesterday late afternoon as I settled on a brown sofa facing Hay’s Dock. Rain was tap dancing on flagstones & roof tops, sliding in a nonchalant manner against Mareel’s long glass panes.
By the time James walked by, little did I know I was just about to return to the Lerwick Writers. And what better timing, as I was polishing a piece inspired & initially scribbled in haste at the end of the school day. James led me to the meeting room where I reconvened with both new & familiar faces, including friend & fellow poet Christian S Tait. Boannie night of fine prose, poetry & song, as Donald Anderson freed the guitar from its sarcophagus.

.
The pieces I shared with the group rubberbanded down to South Africa (Madiba Forever) and pre-70 Glasgow, with this latest poem entitled Lollipop Lass.
It is a much darker, abrasive piece in a free-style form, which emanating from a social history lesson & a 1961 picture of the Old Gorbals, Glasgow’s notorious slums (now gone).

Amazing as the mind works, but the poem currently reads as follows,

Lollipop Lass

Whatever colour of gutter,
squalid Gorbals or
sordid stairs,
she comes flying
down in a
flash,
she,
darting
tarnished
kingfisher to
satisfy hunger from
sap, white nectar, opium for
seamen…
Whatever hour of
day, night,
she spends
minutes at her
dresser, put on eyelashes,
eyeliner, a bit of rouge
after sunset
cheap,
cheerful,
splashed
eau-de-toilette to
let her forget of pavements,
green graffiti sprayed,
dogs’ urine,
crashed
triple X cans in
drunk hands,
dark south banks from
mystical Clyde.
She,
tongue
teaser, tosses
pleasure like a pancake.

© Nat Hall 2014
-/–

The theme is certainly unusual, and such choice somewhat surprised the assembly. However, it got me out of my comfort zone and it also allowed the exploration of much darker avenues. Furthermore, the piece was well received.

All in all, a very pleasant night 🙂

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mathematica-poetica

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Who said mathematics was void of poetics?
I dedicate this triptych to Mademoiselle Wuscher, my most human teacher of maths, back in Pertuis, Provence (1983-84) – as well as my peerie African sister, who embraced them as poetry 🙂
Thales & Pythagoras deciphered the mystics with flair.

Here, as shared with both the Westside Writers & then my peerie sister from the heart , as well as in anticipation to tomorrow’s Higher Mathematics’ exam for all pupils: (as inspired from a recent Prelim)

dreamer

blue morning light on
Bressay Sound,
cheery starlings chuckle
in style,
pupil’s
eyebrows
wrestle with pi,
between questions,
rippled silence –
eyes wander
through
parallel worlds:
wired cherry trees for Japan,
leaning giraffe,
shelved
boomerang,
red Australia…
through sashed
window,
my
Nordic
world –
Leirna’s
constant
criss-crossing
game
through
stretch of
blue dividing isles,
rolling backbones on green
hillsides, where stones
shelter wrens
from gales,
storms;
as
time
holds your
heart with two hands,
I’ll frame Friday through that window.
In true spirit,
Je suis l’enfant de Claude Roy,
celui qui battait la
campagne.

Note:
Claude Roy: French poet & essayist (1915-1997)

———————– 18/4/2014

Prelim –
algebraic world from
deeper space,
stikkit mist,
nebulae –
so many sighs in a cold room.
#micropoetry #geopoetics fae #60N

——-

Mathematica –
too many letters,
squared or
hugged
inside
parentheses,
let loose around
numbers…
x + 3
a factor of cubic expression.
#micropoetry

With renewed thanks to Shetland Times‘ Columnist Doug Forrest for the kind words below:

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Poetry by Candlelight

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March 28, 2014 · 1:23 pm