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Kit Wright

Posted 12-05-2010 at 03:05 AM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 02-17-2011 at 05:32 AM by Steve Bucknell
I wake up back in the upstairs room of the George and Dragon. I’m leaning back on my chair with a pint of John Smith’s in front of me as I puff poetically on a Marlboro. Kit Wright is standing before us looking unfeasibly tall and blonde and he’s reading :


Red Boots On


Way down Geneva,
All down Vine,
Deeper than the snow drift
Love’s eyes shine.

Mary Lou’s walking
In the winter time.

She’s got...
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Harold Massingham

Posted 12-04-2010 at 04:26 PM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 04-07-2011 at 10:49 AM by Steve Bucknell
I remember the upstairs room at the George and Dragon in Wath-upon-Dearne, a meeting of Wath Writers: Ian McMillan, Martyn Wiley, John Turner, David Harmer...Peter , Keith and me...Listening to Harold Massingham reading his “Ballad of Trees” and his “Impressions of Canvases by Van Gogh.” Both were later published in Sonatas & Dreams, Littlewood Arc 1992. I agree with Ian that Massingham, born in Mexborough in 1932, is “one of the great lost Yorkshire writers; a proto-Martian poet before Craig...
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A book of the winter

Posted 12-03-2010 at 08:54 AM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 12-03-2010 at 03:45 PM by Steve Bucknell
Thanks Ed, don't know R.P.W's work. A pleasure to read. I'm trying to post a few photos from the garden and a walk up to Wind Hill crags I went on today.







...
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John Clare

Posted 12-02-2010 at 11:40 AM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 12-03-2010 at 03:18 AM by Steve Bucknell
Confused about snow-depth I take out a tape and find it 16 inches deep on the back lawn (40cms). I spend two hours clearing the drive and the path around the house. The snow-shovel cuts and lifts satisfyingly square blocks like white turves. Displaced mounds accumulate at the side of the house, in the garden and at the roadside. Step by step and block by block the drive becomes a way out again onto the lane.

More snow forecast, more snow falling and the roads still white. I decide...
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Arthur Rimbaud

Posted 12-01-2010 at 12:25 PM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 12-01-2010 at 12:34 PM by Steve Bucknell
I work the afternoon shift, but can’t get home. As the evening progresses all roads are blocked. I stay and work the night shift, getting three hours fitful sleep between one and four in the morning on the floor of a meeting-room. I work the morning shift until midday, and then get a lift in a 4X4 home. The white roads are empty of traffic. Pedestrians struggle along with bags of shopping. It is a gently apocalyptic scene. The snow piles high at the sides of everything.

These...
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