Jane's Writing Shed.

Library displays rare Robert Burns Ae Fond Kiss letter - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-35373097

Rachel McCarthy: the climate change scientist and poet unlocking elemental forces http://gu.com/p/4fjdt?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Blogger

Liz Lochhead to receive Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-35153588

Winter Solstice At the dog-end of the year, as darkness seeps into the day, and we are short-changed on light, a robin sings out the night. Jane Aldous

Michael Donaghy  Collected Poems. Published by Picador 2015. Paperback. I read and re-read this complete collection of Michael Donaghy's poems throughout the summer, outside on the garden bench on warm days, at the kitchen table on cooler days. Even when we had visitors to stay I escaped now and again to read some of my favorites. Donaghy's poems first captivated me when I bought a second hand copy of 'Conjure' published in 2000 so when I read a review of the recently published collection, I went straight out to buy a copy. With an excellent introduction by Sean O'Brien, the three previously published collections, 'Shibboleth', 'Errata' and 'Conjure' are joined by 'Safest' which would have been his newest collection plus a bonus of some uncollected poems. I find his poetry sometimes hard edged, sometimes yearning, often filmic, darkly humorous, political, prosaic, enigmatic. And it is this last quality that takes me back and bac...

Now in its tenth year, Northwords Now is still going strong (I hope)! and amazingly is still free. It's such a great read. I like the format and there are always plenty of poems, short stories and book reviews to satisfy prose and poetry lovers. Hope it remains in the Scottish literary scene for many decades to come. This poem is published in the current issue and was written earlier this year during a holiday to one of our favourite places in the North West Highlands. A Dead Lamb in Polbain How long the lamb had lived, how long its fleece sodden by the rain, lent covering for its body lying by the wall, while other sheep and lambs ranged over the steep hillside, opposite Tanera Mor, only its mother knew. And as she moved away to feed, the farmer in his camouflage boiler suit, stepped over the low stone wall and kneeling beside the lamb, tied its back legs together with twine. As the lifeless animal was pulled gently over stones, grass and reeds, its mother f...

Written in support of all the refugees travelling to Europe who are desperately seeking new lives. Somewhere, not here If we were birds we’d heed no borders, if I, if we, if war, if poverty, if trafficked, war weary people, if corpses locked in lorries, washed up on indifferent tides, if death is better than torture, barrel bombs, leaving everything better than staying, walking with hundreds and hundreds for hundreds of miles, but we are humans, who all came from, came from, came from, all refugees from somewhere, not here, every single one.