Author Archive

Hare today, hare tomorrow

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Hare today, hare tomorrow

One of the two things I learned at school and can still remember (the other was that Samuel Johnson had a cat called Hodge whom he fed on oysters and described as “a very fine cat indeed”) was that young hares in their first year are called leverets. With this fountain of General Knowledge to draw upon, it…

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In this moment

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  Silence heard through the din of crickets   the serene broken only by the unseen.   A metallic flash the kingfisher’s splash   into the green. Paradise.   I have been here all my  life,   alive in this moment.   For Derek Walcott (d. 17th March 2017). His Midsummer, Tobago inspired this poem.

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The seven year itch

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The seven year itch

  It started with a shriek. A shriek that became an itch, an itch that gave me the germ of an idea that became the Greyhares blog. The shriek came from the direction of the shower one morning in late October 2009. My wife had noticed that Pears soap, a soap we’d both been using since…

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Air Mail

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Expect nothing, you said and nothing is what arrived this morning in the first post.   Nothing. Enclosed in a box ten inches by ten by ten all wrapped up in used brown paper and salvaged string.   Expect nothing, you said Not a penny if you marry that spender of misfortunes that good for nothing,…

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To Stevie, with love

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There he was;

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Approximately ten things found in a schoolboy’s pocket

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a catapult; unsprung a gob of purple bubblegum a yard of string knotted; in three places a map of those three places a penknife; worn a breast torn from the pages of Playboy a woodpecker feather; lesser spotted a tasty piece of sausage half a handkerchief semi-snotted pieces of eight – one and thruppence in…

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Bygone

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I come from a chalk-white, sun-streaked street where skinny children stick-rattle and hopscotch away careless summer days.   I come from the domain of bus drivers and bricklayers, where ferret-keeping, earth-salty sorts artfully tend their vegetables and their kneeling house wives with scrubbing brush and Vim nag at the linoleum within.   I come from…

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Scene in the sky

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a lonely cloud wandering a red balloon bobbing a jumbo bound for Brooklyn vapour trail exhaling a paper kite parading a flight of young geese gosling a solitary starling a kestrel that’s amazing a swarm of bees just being a bubble tempting fate a yellow biplane towing a banner proclaiming L U L U   L…

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About the author

Alan West is a marketeer, software developer, blogger and would-be poet. Though he has created and edited a number of blogs on behalf of others, the greyhares blog has been a personal mission and a particular pleasure. Outside of trying not to retire just yet, Alan enjoys languages, writing poetry, and practising the dying art of discourse which, he says, is best enjoyed with food and drink and the company of friends.

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