eBook - ePub
A to B
About this book
Whatbegan asa singlepoem written on a long drive into the countryside north of Glasgow has evolved into an imaginative collection exploringmemory, journey, vulnerability, and love. This book of haunting verse ranges in theme, with observations on everything from a plane's ascent into the evening sky to imagined piano notes being absorbed by the earth.The beauty of Scotland combines with a sense of human fragility asthe poemsexamine the relationship of an old Spanish exileand his wife, the memory of a father's voice, and much more.
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Yes, you can access A to B by Gerry McGrath in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & Canadian Poetry. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
II
Pointing North
Frequent showers
mean the room blushes
then turns pale
in quicker than quick
succession. It’s
while I’m watching all this
going on
the little starling re-appears.
Watchful, it travels back and
forth, smuggling food
to its young
who are in a nest somewhere
inside the wall.
Tolstoy was wrong about Chekhov
but he didn’t care. Last
Saturday I saw a fledgling
by the kerb, skin all pink
and tough, like chewing gum.
The little yellow nib of a beak
pointing north.
The first thing I thought about
was the starling and its chorus of chicks,
then about beautiful days. Then Time.
Then poetry. History.
In that order.
The Colour of Water
On glassy Turnberry beach
we went looking
for a world without stars.
From sand you magicked
a castle; moat, portcullis,
ramparts, turrets
ie the lot
while my cheap feet made
do with carving the date
and our names
beside a feathery burn.
See, poetry, what you can do
when you try?
If I was feeling brave, poetic,
painterly, I might say:
take one potato (halved)
a few watercolours
and attempt to draw
this threesome –
hand that weighs, judges
man’s equine shiver
a charnel house of shells
Dry Flood
Today unlike yesterday
the wind was only audible
as rain bundling into trees.
Understudy, it mouthed
its lines behind wet lips. But
yesterday was another story.
A dry flood, it turned leaves
silver, dented fields of grass.
Dwarves had to hold on to their hats.
Zany butterflies beat their wings
inside the stomachs of giants.
It was something, to say the least.
Bats were phoning their friends up.
The earth plugged an ear, hummed
a foreign tune. Schubert quintet.
Rain when it fell, hardly disquieted
the fish basking in glimmery shadows.
Then the wind died. Covered its mouth.
Tomorrow was suddenly unploughable.
Everyone stood o...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Acknowledgements
- Table of Contents
- I
- II
- III
- About the Author
- Copyright