My debut poetry pamphlet, As if we Were the Trees was published in 2015. My poems have also been published in lots of other places, including: Diamond Twigg, Appletree Writers, Blackbough Poetry, Re-side, Peeking Cat and Lunar Poetry.
More recently my work was included in ‘The Walkboook: Recipes for Walking and Wellbeing’ from Glasgow University, as well as in the ‘Badgered’ Poetry Pills produced by the Poetry Pharmacy in support of the Badger Trust.
I am a poet who also writes creative non-fiction and occasionally fiction. Below is a sample of my work.
Arran Chronology
Is it the scent of gorse or the light across the water of Lochranza
that liberates time?
We need to acknowledge the stationary heron,
and the Mondrian-blue sky against the castle wall.
We spend hours along the coast, searching for Hutton’s Unconformity.
There are rocks forced together like miniature mountains, and this is enough.
The smell of wild garlic makes us look to our camping stoves
and unknown birds turn us briefly into curious children:
the hole in the oak becomes a frame for looking further
and we find seakale and thrift.
The deer have their own timetable, moving without constraint.
They are stoic in the evening and have disappeared before dawn.
The ferries will continue to dock, and seals will haul out at low tide,
but there is no time here.
There is only the lapwings’ unhurried calling.
There is only the blossom on the breeze.
Isaac’s Tea Trail
The weather cannot be outpaced, so from Coldcleugh onwards it is wet feet, hoods up, leapfrogging from signpost to signpost, heading into the arms of the valley.
A hare scarpers and thoughts give chase, zigzagging down the hillside to the remnants of lead mining. Abandoned machines sit like sculptures, presiding over an untamed canvas, where skylarks trill.
Knapweed decorates the path towards Lovelady Shield and pausing for a moment you can imagine tea by the river, on a summer’s day, with Isaac, who never went to school, but with unwavering diligence served these villages. Linking person to place, like a dot-to-dot across the moors.
He says that there are buzzard chicks at Nenthall Farm, and in Alston there were triplets born, and have you seen the silver birch in bloom.
Creative Writing and Other Endeavours 