Author Archives: david davidson

I passed a woman on myearly morning walk todayand as I did I said, ‘Morning’.She looked up from her little dogwho was peeing against a tree and said,‘Mornin’, then we went our separate ways,she with her dog and me with my thoughts. I walked on, over the railway bridge,past the purple buddleia growing out oftheContinue reading “Passing”

My head feels like a sack full of brown beer bottles and horseshoes in the back of a truck on a bumpy road, there’s just too much movement and clatter to take aim properly. There’s nothing I can do about it, I’m the passenger, not the driver, the driver is out of his mind onContinue reading “Church music”

  What would it be like to have known the scent of roses your whole life long without ever having seen one? Then how would it be if one dewy summer morning towards the end of your years you found the key to a secret garden, unlocked the door and there, for the first time,Continue reading “Rose”

I was looking through some old photographs when I came across the most perfect picture I have ever taken, if the truth be known it probably took me, as I looked at it the memories swam back like a great tanker emerging from the sea mist, the picture was of a sunset reflected on aContinue reading “Kelp”

When I opened my computer this morning the screensaver showed a photograph of American Buffalo grazing in the snow, at one time they were almost wiped out by white men with guns, men who knew nothing of the ways of the people. When they’d finished with the Buffalo they started on the native people, whoContinue reading “White men”

All my life I’ve lived with failure and the feeling that I’m not enough, I have spent hours and hours with therapists who have told me that it’s to do with my mother, my childhood, my family or growing up in post war Britain and I have agreed with them all. But now I think that theyContinue reading “Failure”

As I was reading the work of another poet I thought, ‘I could have written that.’ But I couldn’t, it was hers, not mine, it was she who burgled my house not I who burgled hers, it was she who left her prints on the light switch, her feet light on the stairs, her hand on the doorContinue reading “Mary Oliver”

Why is nothing working anymore? Maybe it’s because the Gods want something different from us now, something new, something fresh, something we haven’t thought of before or once knew but have forgotten. But nobody is asking what it might be, just applying the same old same old, things that set one against the other, seekContinue reading “Broken”