Month: August 2015

Stu The Shrew

Stu the shrewHaze found this little fella on our walk this Sunday afternoon up on the Coastal Path.

He wasn’t called Stu. Although he was a shrew.
I placed him on that seabench.
(Haze did the daisy)
It’s the kind of thing you do
To honour the dead
Little things.
Give them some glamour.
I don’t expect his last moments
Alive were particularly pleasant.
A hound could have snaffled him
In the gorsegrass
His snuffle-scurry full
Of crazy terror
And clamour.
Although he could have snuffed it
From lack of chow to fill
His snout with.
In too much of a helter-skelter hurry
To stuff his mush
He keeled over
In frenzied rush.
Cardiac arrest possibly
From not noticing
Where his heart was
– its pitter-patter beat
Just that little bit too far
Away from home.
Below is another look at Stu
When he was still being himself.
Alive in Haze’s imagination.
Goodbye then – little shrew.

Stu the ShrewIllustration: Hazel Brown Words: Ian Nisbet

Plumed Moth

Plumed moth edit

Illustration: Hazel Brown

Less moth more
Seek fleeting being

Of spectral seaming
Transparent as breathing

Convolvulus feeding
Faerie fragile fine feeling

Those Microlite wings
All too easy to shred

So snappable as thread
On leaf left laying

Cotton corpse like in bed
Outspread, playing dead

The White Queens
Marriage dress


 – Words: Ian Nisbet

Poplar Hawkmoth

Poplar HawkmothIllustration: Hazel Brown

You could be a tree
bark inconspicuously.

You could be the lintel
upon that gate
still, but wide awake.

You could be the stalker
in my head
that backs up

You could be the dream
of float and flight
that steals my

You could be the lady
of this lamp
across the street

that I might

You could be the Faerie
of zoom and blind
I feel to find

that enchants
my mind.

Words: Ian Nisbet

Nori Rolls on the Cliffs

This Saturday evening we’re up to The Woods again. Doing what is becoming our usual circular walk (writes Ian).

The evening is chilled out with Autumnal twinges.

Sat on the bench overlooking the sea where we’d seen the blue moon of a couple of Saturdays ago we ate our picnic: a box of nori rolls stuffed with rice and tuna, a box of salad, a flask of tea.

The dimp is dropping down. A bit of ‘space junk’ (satellite) shuttles by. Very few twinklies. None of those ‘Percy Edwards’ shooting stars we’d come looking for.

There’s no full moon to light our way back either. No bats are out. Hardly any moths. The camera is lamely pointed at some white bindweed popped about.

There has been nothing much up here to see tonight. And our dim torches are running out of battery. So it’s time to get off home.

‘The kettle still feels warm’ exclaims Haze when we get back.

Yeah, warmer than it was up there. Brrrr!!!

So no pictures to show and no video to see in this post.

Just the taste of those nori rolls.

Bumble bee

Bumble bee 2 edit

drops… drones
to gaudy girls

Fluttering “come-on”
colourbright eyes

Bumble tongue
laps and licks up

Gillyflower girls
giggle and swoon!

Bee bumbles on to
juicier events

Bee-fore his
daydrone time is done

He had a good one though!

Bumble bee 1 edit

Illustrations & Poem: Hazel Brown

A little back garden, being summerly

An afternoon of Summer Saturdaying (writes Ian).

Of laying down a rug, having tea from cups and saucers, dipping in home-made sesame seed flapjacks.

The white Lily cat drowsing in the shady bushes.

Low flying aircraft droning in from about 40 years away.

Various wasps and bees and bumbles droning in and out of the purply flowers.

Comes a big rare Red Admiral butterfly. I’m up with camera to slowly, quietly, capture it avidly drinking.

I’m pointing and playing this camera over all these tiny sunshine guests in this little back garden, being summerly.

Its getting hot. Haze has flopped under a wide brimmed straw hat.

Three or fours hours have passed. Nothing much has needed to happen. And yet everything presently has been here, been instantly and immediately available.

The afternoon has been pregnant with being. Being delightful.

Video: Ian Nisbet