Sunday In September How pleasant it is to sit under an oak tree in September. How ripe, how still. The shadows are No-one’s but my own. Leaves still weave a canopy from the sun. The harvested fields beyond, brown and bare Lie in calm repose,Read more…
Scale The greatest thing about this world is scale: Scale is the height of the Himalayan Mountains The depth of the Pacific trench The detail in a moth’s wings The teeth in a leaf’s margin – As an engineer and scientist I can build withRead more…
Here is an excerpt from The Aeneid of Virgil (from the translation into English by E. Fairfax-Taylor) that caught my eye recently: It is from book 1, verses XII and XIII: XII. So spake the God and with her hest complied, And turned the massive sceptre inRead more…
Today is National Poetry Day! (8th October) So I thought for that reason I’d share with you a new poem I wrote especially for this season, and it is one I have fairly recently been working on. I hope you enjoy reading it! * *Read more…
Our love is so far away Our love is so far away now it’s like looking on another galaxy, And I feel sad it’s light years since we met; Acres of space apart from it now, Manifoldly distant, Otherworldly; Remotely, I note now just theRead more…
Musings of reality vs. fantasy as I start out and commence the heady world of self-employment, written back in 2006. Before me – literally – lay a blank, empty page. Rabbit-in-the-headlights stasis. Before I had a plan. (Do I now? – is the constant question.)Read more…
Today is the vernal equinox – equal night and day! So here’s my poem, Spring. Spring Gold on blueness, Pinkless cool. Surging newness Of a thing. It’s spring. Birds sing. Nearly April – Green-tinged hue Of grass and bud and dew. Blossoms white fill StemsRead more…
National Poetry Day today, apparently. Here goes, a quickie: On Minds “My mind is a monastery, And I am its monk.” – John Keats. What a load of bunk. My mind’s a jumble sale, And everything’s a pound. Old stuff, new stuff, mainly junk. RollRead more…
Google [conceived while lying in bed one night, trying – in vain – to sleep.] – with apologies to John Betjeman Whatever will rhyme with Google? There’s only the Scottish name ‘Dougal’; Why! in Scots I shall try With my words to get by, IfRead more…
