Gerry Loose

impromptu poem at Bac Giang, Vietnam
for Morven, as ever

here is the flower
I could not pick

I left it for the branch
I left it for the bee I saw

& now
here it is for you

Where the people cross
for the people of Vietnam

that walls are not always brick and mortar
that walls may be made of bomb craters

all walls fall
all bomb craters fill

first The Great Wall of China
Hadrian’s Wall, north England
Antonine wall, Scotland
the Berlin Wall
the wall across Palestine
Trump’s wall yet to happen

Bodhisattvas of Medellin

The fliers for massage parlours, two-for-one pizzas, bars, the losing lottery tickets, condoms, sweetie wrappers, empty cigarette packets, the minotaurs and the nymphs; the angels:
the street sweeper collects, files and labels them all. He sweeps and waits. Tomorrow there will be more.

In 54th Street, Caracas, at dusk, from the deep hole in the ground lined with wood, ascending the steel ladder left in place, they arrive: one, two, three & four & a fifth, tired, but they arrive.

Oh the laughter of the women of the house clearing dishes after the guests have gone to bed! Oh their tears! Oh their beards!

In the place of guns, she, her with dyed hair, lets off fire-crackers & laughs too

The flower seller has arranged the lilies. He rests on his broom. He is tired of sweeping decaying sentient beings

& the one who sells aphrodisiac ants from a small tray

Bodhisattvas of Medellin, walking on & walking through, I took a photograph of your heart


Part -2

on being in a place / on being in place (A nine day walk across Scotland)


we could have planted
an oar here
but we stitched
the land
a palimpsest
an ecology of utterance
place of heather

Houston Mill

a broken willow branch
& her blue eyes
walk with us
our time collapsed
our vanities
the Way
a route from here to there


visions of a land
denuded of history
leaving only parted lips
a gone song
for miners
for shepherds
pollen for bees

Cregg’s Wood

what’s the manifest
of timber
leaves and light
what’s manifest
in timber
cruck and book
and cradle cradle

Peffer Bank

in irony
seeds itself
at the gate
of the
Big House

North Woods

this is the way of it
war after war
deer scut
northern woods
grow slowly
round coastal concrete
defence blocks

Castle Garden of Water Beyond

the night sky
is studded
women are singing
a last song stolen from time
what is the ground
of making
of proving

Dalmeny, Long Green

and slow
the slow of millennia
move to this
this slow
and immediately

Wester Shore Wood

north sea walking
the littoral
moon pulled
acid blue
plastic rainbow
gull hull
model submitted


the eye’s
reverie and rest
each limb
of each tree
underlit in
evening in
luminous energy


right there
a high wind
hover folds
herself to earth
a vole is pierced
is claimed


when lucidity fails
the green leaf
becomes brown
the brown leaf
becomes blown
earth as one

Bar Hill

the stride
is longer
in the long grass
we ride the world
we tumble it
with our tread
caress of our feet


all the west
moves west
languages seed
and migrate
vowels stretch
here is a beginning
the curlew sings


the rhythm of moor
is determined by stones
the language is of tongues
in solitude
tones emerge
one walk
becomes another
Finglen Burn

this spider fishes
in pelagic air
for small fleeting lives
little bear or dog
swan and crab
bull under lion
who fishes for stars

Standing Stones

a letter to a lover
of exile’s shadow
or shadow’s unlifting
of the long sorrow of land
of the cuckoo
of how love
survives if we can


nothing is broken
a buzzard mewls
there are winds
treeline covers
the summit
sky softly


a collection of folds
cumulus cloud
gorse billow
sheep fank
fazed brain
of it all
time folded


as if there were
boundaries between
breast and breast
between where the deer
lies and the deer
lying in this field
and the fallen


the small thorns
catch us
each one impales
we arrive and depart
as if that were

Bannachra Woods

such kin
these woods
relatives to grow us
in glades in groves
mythic logic

Blackhill Plantation

walls of black-
bird calls
thickened light
leaf light leaf
dwell a

Gerry Loose is an award winning poet and peace activist. His poems are found inscribed in Botanic Gardens, wild landscapes, hospitals, and galleries as well as in his many books. His latest collection of poems is night exposures. He lives on a small island off the west coast of Scotland.

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