Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Fragment from a winter bike ride

From the flicker of winter sun-shadowed trees
In the lane ahead
An adult buzzard glides from shade 
Into full sunlight,
Under-plumage a vivid blur
Of greys, white, black and browns.
Ghosts into the shadows of the copse.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Short poem about going out for a walk at sunset on a day soon after the onset of spring; a day on which the clear skies and sunshine of the day give way to a surprisingly chilly evening as the sun dips below the horizon

Sheep field.

Moist earth.

Mist-rise.

Dusk blue.

Cold moon.



Saturday, January 11, 2014

Beyond the Forest

Beyond the Forest

Heard the Radio 3 breakfast-show presenter refer to Transylvania this morning, in respect of Bela Bartok, 'today in 1919 being the day when Transylvania was annexed by Romania'. 

Having been brought up in the English-speaking cultural tradition, and not having examined enough of my accreted stereotypes, I couldn't help but see Bela Lugosi loom up out of the mist, intoning ominously in his faux-central European accent. 'Transylvania', in the shorthand of this culture, is an amalgam of Stoker's "Dracula", the Universal 'monster' movies of the 30s, and perhaps the Hammer films of the 60s and 70s: a gloomy, bucolic land of hills and forests, scattered with crudely rustic villages and castles denizened by aristocrats and ghouls.

Obviously this is a travesty of the region's long and rich history (Rome, Hungary, Austro-Hungarian Empire...), its beautiful landscapes, and immensely complex and diverse religious and ethnic history.

By the same token, the one-dimensional and toxic stereotypes of migrants from 'Eastern Europe' that dominate the press and much of popular consciousness/discourse rest on a narrow foundation of prejudice and simplification.Perpetuating them risks embedding them in the minds of  the young, the ignorant and the impressionable, and with more damaging effects than Bela Lugosi wrought on my subconscious.