A Poem by our Writer in Residence, David Gilbert
Forgiveness It’s not such hard work to forgive.We tend to think of it as freight.But conscience, like air, is so light. All sorts of truths, imaginaryor real, are easily put right.Mother, you were right too, to turn away when I was ill.What mattered was what littleyou had left to give. I knew. But it took […]
A Poem by our Writer in Residence, David Gilbert
By The Way She pulls herself up the white steps,as if cajoling a self-made soul and knowing that I’m the last personto be persuaded of the strengthwe possess, I offer her my arm.She waves me away, then levers herself into the low green wicker chair. ‘I admire your determination’ I say. She cups her hand to her earand shouts: ‘I’m afraid […]
A Poem by our Writer in Residence, David Gilbert
The Experiment Buoyancy is a consolation for this impossible home. Kate Rambridge We have all been called this or that over the years. Now we are who we are. From Inland, Tea Obrecht — Streetlights – the night mist – my shadows thrown in four directions at once, we criss-cross the empty avenues, witness to […]
A Poem by our Writer in Residence, David Gilbert
On the 17th Day Well, you wouldn’t be herewere it not for the unrecognisedkindnesses you’ve shown yourself. You think it was god?You think love is all ra-ra-ra?You need a cosmic white light? Still you’d doubtthe quietness in your browas you let your eyes fallbehind the lids. And your body sink Yet this is as real […]
A Poem by David Gilbert on World Poetry Day
You Didn’t Tell Me You didn’t tell me there would be days when I could walk outon a garden by a low stone wall and breeze from the Baltic. You didn’t tell me there would be chaffinches in the oakand gentle hill curving down to the reeds, lake and an empty boat. You […]
A Poem by David Gilbert on Valentine’s Day
All Along Love does what love does best –keeps itself going in the background for when it’s needed.Old Mr Reliable. Like our black-and-white telly, late afternoons,the simmering casserole or my grandfather mumbling prayerswe couldn’t hear, let alone understand or a child’s bedside light left on. Apollo,the budgerigar, chuckling into his mirror. His little bell. My […]