Poem: The hare’s field.

My immortal eyes,

across pastures glide

Beyond the crow cloaked oak

and woodfire smoke.

To hear the small dryw cry

For the White Hart’s rise.

Swarms Me ©2016

In March of 2016 we went on a short trip to Llandygwydd, Cardiganshire, Wales where we met local artist, David Beattie. You can see his works on his Facebook page here. David kindly opened up his studio to let us have a look round. It was a veritable cornucopia for the eyes and mind, every available surface was covered in his work and works in progress. He was very welcoming and happy to talk about his work, processes and research, he has a true artist’s character.

He was, at that time working on a number of pieces for his university portfolio and hares feature very strongly in his work. So the combination of this, the surroundings and long walks and the natural inspiration of Wales led to this poem.


First poem out there and I chose murder and posted on YouTube.

So I took the plunge after some encouraging nagment from Bee and recorded a murder poem I wrote back in the summer and posted it on YouTube here. Yes that’s right a murder poem. It didn’t start out that way, I was just enjoying the walks we took on a local nature reserve where we would bake in the sun along a particularly quiet stretch where the gorse has overtaken the area and has created a passageway. I was quite surprised to realise that the bright sunshine mimicking flowers of the gorse smell a little bit  like coconut and candy floss. Mix that in with me reading a bit on the history of the area and finding a couple of gruesome stories at that same sort of time and this is what happened. Actually it’s not quite that cut and dry, but a tale for another time.

Follow me down.

Follow me down
Where the sun beats the rhythm
and join me basking near rocks with lizards.
The gorse will hide us in it’s own sunshine
with crackling shells and tropical smells.
We can share with the hoverflies and bees near hawthorn trees.
Won’t you follow me here and beside me lie?
You can show me the clouds
and I will smile and listen as this symphony thickens.
Won’t you follow me down and smile and lie and dream and laugh before you die?
My hands are as soft as the moss we lie on and your throat will be handled with care.
But first let’s take the time to stop and stare
Don’t want you to be aware
I’d rather see the surprise in your eyes and your questions why
as my soft hands kiss your skin so shy.
Follow me down,
Follow me down and die.

by Swarms Me 2016