May Update …

So, time ticks on and I’m about six months away from leaving my teaching career as a deputy head. By the end of 2020 I will have completed 32 years employed in primary schools by Cumbria County Council, having also spent 1984 until 1988 at Charlotte Mason College in Ambleside on the recommendation of a…

Inspiration

This time of year, when the field out the back of our house is teeming with wildlife, inspiration to write poetry manifests itself in many forms. Recently, I’ve had the pleasure of watching a queen wasp construct a nest from wood pulp chewed off the outside of Fiona’s shed; blackbirds, sparrows, bluetits and (gasp) bullfinches…

NorthernJim Poetry

Over on that YouTube, I’ve re-opened my poetry channel and uploaded half a dozen poems. Please go and have a look (link below), subscribe and/or leave a comment if you wish. The recordings were done either side of a severe shaving but I’m pleased to say the beard is returning now that I’ve given the…

This Work Is Done

This is an old feeling, standing by this evening’s field, these dark rags hanging, strung on wire, beaks silent and unmoving under a stretched sky. So which lore or gods apply? Would it help to free your feathers, wake thought and memory in cold skulls, wear a black cape in silhouetted brotherhood? Should I take…

Leveret (after Carolyn Jess-Cooke)

Forty weeks I wondered what would happen. Bought a tiny cardigan while waiting, embroidered with some meadow hares in sunshine and wee blue shoes that you would never wear. With little witchy hand you grasped my finger, your body wrapped in heirloom knitted cloth, each breath I watched and worried in the pauses and worried…

Poetry Workshops

Last year, after taking the decision to reduce my teaching hours in order to concentrate on poetry, I set a few aims on what I’d like to try and achieve in 2020. The proposed publication of a pamphlet has so far been the most exciting development, with Maytree Press confirming an August launch of Fledge…

Mouse

Schrödinger’s Mouse Your love of my raspberries has resulted in this late evening walk in headtorch, to hedges of hazel and blackthorn, far enough from home to foil ideas of return. Aware of owls ripping through moonlight, I kneel in damp fescue and sedge, clutching this tilt trap of quantum uncertainty; mouse or no mouse?…

The Safety Of Clouds

On hard wet ground, exposed like a pulsing nerve, half a yard from the comfort of grass, it writhed unsteadily to unheard music, while the connoisseur’s eye judged its girth from a bush. Rainwater marinated and near wasted after a night of passion, casting tired letter shapes as the sun split clouds overhead, this six…

Elegy For A Peevish Bee

Elegy For A Peevish Bee by Jonathan Humble Temper rising, she becomes a blur of business, works at glass and frame, vents a blast of angry wings in search of phantom gaps or phased matter. Close outside, snapdragons sway encouragingly, zinnias gesture from plastic boxes beyond the window, rays of light refract, reflect and raise…