Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

Category Archives: poem of the day

Not Gold

A rucksack, mugger torn, spills a life to the floor. Gathering the remnants; wallet, money, destination gone;   no choice but a park bench; enamelled metal and stale beer sticky; … Continue reading →

07/02/2018 · Leave a comment

A Prayer to the Bean

07/02/2018 · Leave a comment

A Deserted Village

An Architect would no doubt weep at the maze of tumbled rock found sad, lonely, lost beneath the sweep of beaten bracken paths. Summer brings bright silence with each new … Continue reading →

06/02/2018 · Leave a comment

Lunar Tattoos

In the next few days, I’ll be releasing a chapbook on Amazon. It’ll be available as a kindle book and a print on demand item. I’ll also be having a … Continue reading →

05/02/2018 · Leave a comment

Church Ope Cove

Tethered kelp shakes angry algal fists at boy racer waves reaching for shore. Slow-time tides beat lunar tattoos. Oil black mackerel taunt the shore bound; Slick and shifting. Wind whips; … Continue reading →

05/02/2018 · Leave a comment

Kiss Me Again Jack

So many years since I felt the hoar caress my cheek with needle teeth. Not breaking the skin but bringing it to rude life . . . Kiss me again, … Continue reading →

05/02/2018 · Leave a comment

A Dream

To see the sky with no tangent vapours marking its jetted limits…   To see the land unboxed, its concertina scars flooded and weeping…   To see the mirror-straits deepest … Continue reading →

05/01/2018 · Leave a comment

Losna (Winter)

From beside a sun- paled bridge – enamel petals falling, brickle and bleached – I watch the mounting satellite –   wan-creeping above bitter horizon – over looking-glass spatters of … Continue reading →

19/12/2017 · Leave a comment

Tromsdalen

There was a time when a small shack, – unused in decades – stood here, shaking under a barrage of wind and hail;   door barely hanging on by it’s friable rust devoured hinges; charged … Continue reading →

12/12/2017 · Leave a comment

ursus maritimus

Her head low and eyes fixed on mine. Loping from floe   to sea to dolerite schist; crackling on the lime rich shore;   following stale musk. Per shakes my … Continue reading →

09/12/2017 · Leave a comment