Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

A Psalm of Stone

1. A merlin whiffles and surveys a ditch and bank, grateful for now open land and prey;   leaving bark and sap and leaf unsheathed; replaced by rootless fruit   … Continue reading

December 15, 2018 · Leave a comment

Lunar Tattoos – Available Now

I’m thrilled to announce that my first poetry chapbook – called Lunar Tattoos – is now available from Amazon in both eBook and physical form. It’s a collection poems about … Continue reading

August 1, 2018 · Leave a comment

Two of the reasons I’m doing a PhD

A Confessional Prose Poem of sorts. i) Martin came  by to babysit.        I was three and had heard          Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys     on the radio that morning   … Continue reading

July 12, 2018 · Leave a comment

Dais

The wrong shoes impede my ascent and I struggle-slip through grass and gorse.   The keen thorned shrubs tug on too thin clothes and claw at barely waxed haversack   … Continue reading

June 2, 2018 · Leave a comment

Carrot

  There is   a car   rot on   the lawn;   the on   ly ev   idence   that we   once had   snow. Win   … Continue reading

March 1, 2018 · Leave a comment

Lullaby

The frenetic signal lost from Luxemburg at 0045 hours nightly, gave me time to retune the transistor radio to the long wave, ghost whining of empty air.   White mono … Continue reading

February 24, 2018 · 1 Comment

Camille

Sweat and hands and passion shape an uncarved block   in his name; his reputation ensured by your devotion.   Each success bruising her affection. Each denial inflaming her desire. … Continue reading

February 20, 2018 · Leave a comment

Davy’s of Dover

Tottering on the stub and clack, my Mum, replete in navy slacks, ushers us to Davy’s van to buy us fish and chips.   The salt and fat and ketchup … Continue reading

February 9, 2018 · Leave a comment

Hotel. Birmingham. 19.8.17. 03:17.am

Birmingham sleeps, its illuminated building works, a shadow jungle to trap the drunk and wary.   Lost in the plastic and sodium labyrinth; infernal circles traced in brick dust, he … Continue reading

February 8, 2018 · Leave a comment

Hotel. Birmingham. 18.8.17. The Treachery of Mirrors

It’s stifling, even with the window open. The bloody workmen have woken me with drills and diggers with alarms that sound like they will break into ‘Jingle Bells.’ Every few … Continue reading

February 7, 2018 · Leave a comment