Author Archives: colinhopkirk

Through dirty windows  with kick-out glass, in case of derailment, or worse,  the Trent is everywhere. The river is the field is the river. Open country,  villages,  open country, towns, open country, City. Water, willow banks,  old horses in jackets, stacked lumber, yellow gorse,  down at heel farms,  a Traveller site, blue tarpaulins hiding  something,Continue reading “Newark to Nottingham, Wintertime”

New book of collected poems due May/June 2020. Launch party to be announced soon, at The Gallery at St Martins, Lincoln. All welcome. Cover image from a nude study by Phil Bowman. Gallery@stmartins.co.uk

He’s back again, taping off pavement, chalks out, a cheeky smile for the punters. Portraits are popular. He gives them Vermeer, Michelangelo, a touch of perspective, turn of the head, a bit of cleverness. ‘But keep it easy on the eye.’ He pays attention to the eyes. ’People like eyes’, he says, ‘and red. Carmine,Continue reading “Pavement Artist”

At my signal – are you paying attention? At my signal, we shoot in, fast and low under the radar, strafe the marsh, sidestep on layered air, hit air brakes, stop drop imagine ourselves gone. Questions?

I am always pulled back to Murray’s poetry. For me, his poems are startling, generous, compelling. I love writers who invite you in – look, see this, isn’t it wonderful ? Pay attention! Notice the world. Try an early poem like “Driving Through Sawmill Towns” and go from there. For another way in, there’s podcasts.Continue reading “Les Murray”

This bridge holds two cities, blinks like an eye. From a Kittiwake’s wing it is heart shaped. We crossed from the Baltic, climbed Regency streets through makeshift lawns to the monument. Italian ice cream A book by Herzog Sunlight everywhere.

We were walking on the path through the wood my son had named. Did I say the day was bright, the air clear after rain? It was. The birds were singing. Water ran underground, new bracken uncurled beneath the trees, which began to shake, knew before we did. If I said, “the rotors clattered”, I’dContinue reading “Goober Wood”

Keep an eye out for Hexameter in 2020/21. Performing Poets across the East Midlands. And the forthcoming book from Colin Hopkirk and Vernon Goddard, readings at the Gallery at St. Martins, Lincoln, Easter 2020. More to follow.

The racing kayak is long and lean, a rocket, with a boy sized hole where my son fits. I don’t know how he does it, honing his technique, the incremental adjustments, fine tuning, paddle in just-so, ahead and close, core strength, correct rotation. It’s technical. He could explain it, and sometimes he tries, smiling, asContinue reading “Boy in a Kayak”

I saw a Kingfisher recently. Such a small bird, one forgets how small, so fast and bright, it’s blueness lit a grey day. Kingfisher Pulse of whirring light, this iridescent arrow, cobalt shot, straight and low, no sooner here than gone, hardly seen, but seen enough, impossible enough to fix in the memory, for eachContinue reading “Kingfisher”