Hugh McMillan is a well published and anthologised poet living in south west Scotland. He believes that poetry should be accessible and reflect the realities of landscape, life and history.
Today I must turn a penny for my work.
There are things to sort out:
my girls must travel
beyond the rain and rage
to see the the sun turn
a million pebbles into fire.
So I have a poem
about trees: there is plenty imagery
in it, you might say it is bursting
with muscle. And I am
particularly pleased with this one
about the sea — it’s been
on a shelf for some time
pulsating weirdly. It has fish.
Then there is a box of family ones —
upset them and watch the words
spill brawling across the floor!
I will take them out on the street
and put them on a small
fold-up table marked POEMS
and tell passers-by
what they cost in time
that could have been spent
less painfully. I will have
a hand-written note that says
NO CARDS or CHEQUES
but I will let the poems go for what
they’re worth: a moment’s reading:
the time taken
for your life to touch mine.
✧ ✧ ✧
If you liked this poem, Hugh also has another poem, “George Catlin and the Moon Eyes”, in this print issue of takahē 95