Ian Stuart

Carona

Adieu ! Farewell Earth’s blissThis world uncertain is. Carona’s come, the Queen of Deathwho halts a nation. with her breath.The fearful sick must hope and waitalone, they must self-isolate. I am sick. I must die.Lord, have mercy on us. The media tells us what to doin hopes that it will see us through.Put on aContinue reading “Carona”

Swans

No-one saw them sky in –twelve swans freshfrom nowhere. They sail in convoy,bow waves curlalong their flanks,wings catch the wind,curved necks signalling SSSSSSSSSSSS Later, in the afternoonsome rest so stillyou see each featherin their reflections.Others snake below the surfacelooking for small fish, frogs and weed. They were still there at dusk –twelve jack o’lanterns glowingContinue reading “Swans”

Walnuts

Plump as plums they hang in a green shade. Pick one. Peel back the husk and find a shell there, pocked and wrinkled like some distant world. You’ll need a knife. Just press your blade against the lateral line then prise the halves apart and there, in a nutshell is a brain. Packed tight intoContinue reading “Walnuts”

Windfarm

Winnowing the wind long swooping sails sift voltage out of gusts and gales.

The Shepherd’s Hut

You always find surprises in a second hand bookshop. I found this the other day – and it’s a poetry anthology with a difference. “The Shepherd”s Hut” is a collection designed especially for slow, contemplative reading. “Take time for each word Give room to white space, Listen for the beat, Tune to the weather, RekindleContinue reading “The Shepherd’s Hut”

Born again

Born again A man botched up from sticks and bones – all angles, elbows pointing out, and one leg twisted round its mate like ivy round a tree. As we come abreast of him, I see the sleeveless denim jacket, skinny arms, pale and freckle -spotted, his white face wet with effort, clenched like aContinue reading “Born again”

Lost Child

The loss of a child has always been a terrible blow

Unhappy ending

In the books store between Economics and European History, a woman is weeping silently because bookstores, like empty churches and doctors’ waiting rooms are holy places and to be respected. Face buried in her hands she stands, convulsed by grief too real for this warm place humming with words. A boy in a red shirt,Continue reading “Unhappy ending”

The Stone Circle

A circle of stones – an offering to the waters

I spy

I’ve noticed the warning every time I’ve logged into my WordPress site: “Your ID is being used to sign in to a device in South Manchester” and there’s a little map to show the area my shadowy companion inhabits. And I’ve done nothing about it, for the moment anyway. Who do I know in theContinue reading “I spy”