Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Mine

One of probably three poems skirting around the story of the Shetland Bus and part of the Shipping Forecast Areas project – these will be part of Fair Isle, Viking … Continue reading

Featured · Leave a comment

Aurochs (Irish Sea)

Through the trees, a rum tang of brine encroaching; a brackish lick insinuates itself into a bed   of coarse reeds that wither with its saline sting. Aurochs sensing their time is … Continue reading

August 27, 2019 · Leave a comment

Oil and Algae

We tramped through narrow dew set paths lined with gorse, it’s barbed wire limbs waving warning trophies of rent clothing; a BMX, abandoned in the no man’s land of briar … Continue reading

April 22, 2019 · Leave a comment

Bullshit Detector

1983 and faux anarchic romanticism seduces me. Squatting for peace dreaming that the threat of Threads is gone and Barefoot Gen can sleep unhindered; ashen shadows confined to graffiti.   … Continue reading

April 13, 2019 · Leave a comment

Nairn Beach (Impressionist)

Saltwater seethes from the Black Isle to tease an endless beach; sea touching sky with a palette of blue green and haze grey. Rothko shimmers quickening the landscape   painting … Continue reading

April 10, 2019 · 4 Comments

Via

nameless child nameless child mother earless mumchance   isle-bound by the grace of a king – to search for the divine idiolect – communion with the light of lights   … Continue reading

April 9, 2019 · Leave a comment

Tickets Please, Mr Auden

It wasn’t the Savile taint of the Age of the Train or the jaw dropping sexism of travelling like the men do, but the efficiency of engines that killed the … Continue reading

March 29, 2019 · Leave a comment

Stavanger Sketches

1. Dismas and Gestas stare at the swords and wonder if anyone remembers them.   2. Haar drapes the cobbles stone work shimmering under it’s glister. From the tunnel between … Continue reading

February 7, 2019 · Leave a comment

Tidal

In silt and sand awaiting the thellasic lick of high water, flaccid buoys – tethered to mark the edge of aphrodisiac beds – rise in time for the smack and … Continue reading

January 29, 2019 · Leave a comment

Kings

With fingers stained and sticky From the juice of scrumped berries I peel enamel scales from the top of the weathered climbing frame.     From its ramparts, my pink … Continue reading

January 27, 2019 · Leave a comment