Poems of the Day

Lesley Duncan’s poetry column in The Herald newspaper, mirrored in her poetry blog (although Anne Connolly’s Friday one, while in the paper, hasn’t yet appeared in the blog), has printed poems by three Calder Wood Press authors this year (so far) as ‘Poems of the Day’. This is something which has, naturally, pleased the authors, and it has made me very happy indeed as their publisher. I knew they were good poets, and it’s great to see that Lesley likes them too. This sort of peer recognition gives me the impetus to promote the work of CWP authors, and to look for new work.

Here are the three poems. Copyright remains with the authors.

Confirmation Trees

Pear was planted first, uncertainly,
then moved to better ground. It bore
no blossom, hesitated in the spring,
stood tall and silent till the fourth season
stirred root and sap and tip of seeking buds.
Now in the autumn there will be fruit.
Fragrant. To be eaten slowly with satisfaction.

Apple was grafted strong and long-limbed,
perfect to cordon against a stout wall.
Instead it rambles out with random blooms
that fall their own way, ripen to crisp redness
when the right time comes. It needs a careful
pruning, but not too soon before it gathers
strength and height in the changing sun.

Plum is pure abundance. Energetic shoots
burst flower after flower for eager bees.
A haze of purple succulence appears
year upon year, enough to share with friends
and generosity. They are small, firm, sweet
and like the pear and apple hold unique
the secret, wayward promise of their kind.

Anne Connolly, from Downside Up

The Dawn Was All Around Me
For my Father

When I could have asked you,
I didn’t want to know.
I turned round for a moment,
And I didn’t see you go.
And now just when I need you,
I have to stumble on,
And grope unguided on the route
Where you’ve already gone.

When you were at my shoulder,
My ears were stuffed with youth,
The dawn was all around me
and I didn’t need the truth.
But now with an infinitude
Of things I need to know,
The dusk can give no answers,
And I didn’t see you go.

David C Purdie, from The Biggers


My dad planted potatoes
and grew peonies,
dividing his time equally
he blossomed with purpose.

Then came our harvest,
potatoes buttered,
peonies vased,
we sat
feasting our eyes
on their goodness.

My mother looked on
unlike us
she never found pleasure in waiting.

Jo Gibson, from The Heart Is Always Full


About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
This entry was posted in Calder Wood Press, Poems of the Day, The Herald. Bookmark the permalink.

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