Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Hallsands (Plymouth)

In The London we’d talk of the Skerries, the herring and lobster, the Channel bluster stealing Ma Jones’ dizzy bells from the line –     and other important fripperies … Continue reading

January 14, 2019 · Leave a comment

The Wrong Forest

Mean aluminium trees – plastic vines circulating analgesic sap – fail to sway in the bare thoracic snap from tired, syncopating lungs.   Phoney canopy on geometric bough. Silent, motionless … Continue reading

January 8, 2019 · Leave a comment

Well, gosh!

I’m in the London Magazine, again! Two of my poems about Norway, ‘Tromsdalen’ and ‘Losna (Winter)’ appear in the December/January issue which is available via by clicking on this link  … Continue reading

December 10, 2018 · 1 Comment

Bailey Bank

No Bailey takes us from mainland and over the Faeroes to open seas above Rosemary Seamount Crater that gapes, dormant but screaming, as she is force fed distressed ships and … Continue reading

December 4, 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

News, apologies, excitement (slight return)

If I’ve seemed a bit quiet of late, there are a number of good reasons. Firstly, I’ve been chasing up a PhD for myself and after several months, I’ve got … Continue reading

May 28, 2018 · Leave a comment

Dungeness – March 9th, 2018.

Brut concrete lines, aged and crinkled, adding ersatz shingles to a saved and solemn beach.   Beech gantries lead to stern signposts warning of ripped seas warmed, given unexpected life … Continue reading

May 2, 2018 · Leave a comment

Flesh and Feather

Drab brown drag bustling with the snap and jitter of twelve frames a second. Squabble tweedling with dickering kin scrabble-flickering for errant grain.   The farmers sons with .22 strength … Continue reading

March 30, 2018 · Leave a comment

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

February 7, 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

January 5, 2018 · Leave a comment