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My Edinburgh Press

My Edinburgh Press

everyday stories and observations about life in Edinburgh

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Category: Poetry

So What?

March 27, 2022May 24, 2022 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 2 Comments

Bed early one night this week, exhausted from busy day. Body collapsed into deep sleep. Woke at 6am and read more Raymond Carver short stories. Read two in a row, both about alcoholism. ‘Careful’, then, ‘Where I’m Calling From’. Used to have a copy of a thick anthology of that name – ‘Where I’m Calling … Continue reading So What?

The Nightmare of Dreams

March 20, 2022May 23, 2022 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 1 Comment

On my computer is a file named 'Interesting Writing Articles' in which I have saved snippets, essays, and interviews that I have read and liked. I knew there was one in there with Joan Didion, an interview with The Paris Review, which, following her death in December, I went back to read. The article is … Continue reading The Nightmare of Dreams

Dublinesque

March 6, 2022May 24, 2022 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 2 Comments

-esque: in the style of, resembling (suffix, forming adjectives). There is no mistaking it, I am in Dublin. To borrow from a poem of Philip Larkin,, Dublin is so 'Dublinesque'. I disembark at Connolly, emerge into bright spring sunshine, and Dublin and I immediately remember each other. Here it comes, this vibrant feeling as I … Continue reading Dublinesque

Letting Go

February 6, 2022May 24, 2022 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 8 Comments

I’m still in Portrush. Gales and more gales blow through, one trailing the other, bowling balls careening down a polished rink, on they roll, another, another, another. The wind abates for a day or two, then I’ll be lying in my upstairs bedroom at night and hear it gather speed, listen to it rise, rip, … Continue reading Letting Go

All Gone into the World of Light

December 24, 2021 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 4 Comments

I love Christmas Eve, the daytime, full of visits and last minutes chores, the evening narrowing towards quiet solitude. I feel content being alone on Christmas Eve, lighting candles, being quiet. I might switch on the radio, let the silence swaddles me like soft cotton blankets settling a baby for sleep. Silence brings thoughts, ideas, … Continue reading All Gone into the World of Light

I Love Trains

November 20, 2021 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 1 Comment

I’ve been travelling on trains these last few weeks. First, an early morning train from Antrim to Portrush, the sun not long up, mist lying in patches on the fields. It looks like the land is draped in a soft, white muslin cloth, which makes everything appear dreamy: half-real, half-apparition. A slick of dew coats … Continue reading I Love Trains

Under the October Twilight

October 28, 2021 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 3 Comments

It is a letting go time of year. The light and leaves are dropping, the colours are fading, the fruits all gone, the seed pods blown. When I’m out walking or driving east along the coast, I see huge flocks of geese fly in formation, resolute in their destination. They fly so high that the … Continue reading Under the October Twilight

Silver Apples of the Moon, Golden Apples of the Sun

October 16, 2021 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 6 Comments

My great-uncle Gerry grew it from seed. He liked to eat apples, must have eaten a particularly nice one on the day he decided to plant the pip and grow his own, which, they say, is a hard thing to do. But he had no knowledge that to propagate an apple tree from seed is … Continue reading Silver Apples of the Moon, Golden Apples of the Sun

Gotta Dance

August 31, 2021May 24, 2022 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 1 Comment

Five people holding hands and dancing in a circle. Dance (La Danse) is a 1910 painting by Matisse. The bodies are painted red, they dance on a mound of green, the backdrop behind them (sky?) is blue, and they are naked. The colours are vibrant – two primary colours, one secondary – and the simple, primitive style … Continue reading Gotta Dance

Seamus Heaney’s Grave

August 21, 2021October 24, 2021 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 1 Comment

I visited Heaney’s grave with my friend last week. First, we went to The Homeplace, the arts centre in Bellaghy that celebrates his poetry. I’d been before and I love it. Loved seeing how a poem moves through multiple iterations of scoring and scribbles and shifting around before he gets to something he’s happy with. … Continue reading Seamus Heaney’s Grave

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About my blog

I hope my online Edinburgh Press will, in time, hold a similar collection in words to that which is in my Edinburgh Press at home.  I will add to it as often as I can building a collection of memories and observations bubbling up from below, breaking the surface of my mind. I’ll send them out into the world where you can, if you want, share them. Welcome to My Edinburgh Press.

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Recent Posts

  • Every End Is A New Beginning June 30, 2022
  • I Love You Barry Manilow June 25, 2022
  • Between June 22, 2022
  • One About Love June 12, 2022
  • The Game of Life June 3, 2022
  • Into The Unknown May 27, 2022
  • Mrs. Traquair May 20, 2022
  • Warriston Cemetery May 15, 2022
  • Off The Rails (II) May 8, 2022
  • Off The Rails (I) May 6, 2022
  • Set In Your Ways April 29, 2022
  • We Should Speak of the Dead April 13, 2022
  • The Sunny Side of Life April 9, 2022
  • Monologue with Life April 5, 2022
  • Precarious March 31, 2022
  • So What? March 27, 2022
  • The Nightmare of Dreams March 20, 2022
  • Goodnight, John-Boy March 13, 2022
  • Dublinesque March 6, 2022
  • How People Cope March 2, 2022
  • Work Work Chop Chop Busy Busy Bang Bang February 24, 2022
  • People Are People February 15, 2022
  • Letting Go February 6, 2022
  • When The Sky Falls In January 27, 2022
  • Winter Feet January 22, 2022

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Recent Posts

  • Every End Is A New Beginning June 30, 2022
  • I Love You Barry Manilow June 25, 2022
  • Between June 22, 2022
  • One About Love June 12, 2022
  • The Game of Life June 3, 2022
  • Into The Unknown May 27, 2022
  • Mrs. Traquair May 20, 2022
  • Warriston Cemetery May 15, 2022

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