The Hill: Songs and Poems of Darkness and Light

No Time to Think

WP Hill

I have enjoyed some amazing and unexpected publicity for my book The Hill: Songs and Poems of Darkness and Light

since its launch in November.

This online at Hold the Front Page:

http://www.holdthefrontpage.co.uk/2014/news/ex-editors-past-inspires-first-poetry-book/

Plus four regional / local newspapers including a stunning piece in the Shropshire Star.

Radio BBC Bristol:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2N2X7t7awo

And on Russia Today TV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fU_4qJHIasc&list=UUbGif2gxFLxGDxG9CeA_fvg

I now have a Web Store at www.writeahead.co.uk where you can buy my book The Hill: Songs and Poems of Darkness and Light directly. I accept payments by debit and credit cards and PayPal through this store. The Hill: Songs and Poems of Darkness and Light is 100 pages of angst, joy, reflection and opinion. Order your copy now for just £3.99 plus £1.80 P&P (Europe: £3.70 P&P, Australia: £5.05 P&P and USA: £4.75 P&P with discounts on postage for multiple orders). I will personally sign your copy upon request. Your book will…

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The Songs and Poems of Nicolas Clare

When I first started writing poetry at the age of 19, I wrote under the pen-name Nicolas Clare – influenced by my then poetic hero John Clare.

Today, as the poems and songs begin to burgeon, I have resurrected the name and opened a new public Facebook portal exclusively for this work. It can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/nicolasclarepoems?fref=ts

I will try to upload half a dozen songs and poems each day until my vault is empty, while continuing to write new offerings.

Poem: Village of Lost Souls

Upon the hill the church bells chime

The graveyard whispers of another time

When lowly men and the land were one

And this ugly war had not begun

Above us the roof is full of holes

Searching this village of lost souls

 

John Keats is in the alley

Looking for a rhyme

Edward German walks by quickly

Lost in another time

I’m in the boot store

With a bootleg in my hand

Sipping Kraken quietly

Trying to make a stand

 

In the bull ring the artisans chatter

Newspaper headlines do not matter

To society fires of quiet rural lives

The verger preaches to lost young wives

Above us the roof is full of holes

Searching this village of lost souls

 

John Keats is in the alley

Looking for a rhyme

Edward German walks by quickly

Lost in another time

I’m in the boot store

With a bootleg in my hand

Sipping Kraken quietly

Trying to make a stand

 

By the waterside the barges float

The lock keeper paints his rotten boat

Flies buzz round fish heads and tails

The jolly joiner repairs his sails

Above us the roof is full of holes

Searching this village of lost souls

 

John Keats is in the alley

Looking for a rhyme

Edward German walks by quickly

Lost in another time

I’m in the boot store

With a bootleg in my hand

Sipping Kraken quietly

Trying to make a stand

 

In the Greyhound pub granddad drinks

The waitress watches as her spirit sinks

Punters come and wild wayfarers go

The world outside it moves too slow

Above us the roof is full of holes

Searching this village of lost souls

 

John Keats is in the alley

Looking for a rhyme

Edward German walks by quickly

Lost in another time

I’m in the boot store

With a bootleg in my hand

Sipping Kraken quietly

Trying to make a stand

 

Poem: Fanny by Gaslight

Fanny turn the gaslight up

And tell me what you see

Your vision has been clouded

Do you still remember me?

The lies and old malt whisky

Have poisoned all that’s good

Your captives have been clever

Don’t let us be misunderstood

 

Fanny turn the gaslight up

And cut the wick down low

Your memory has been twisted

And truth returns too slow

The lies and old malt whisky

Have poisoned all that’s good

Your captives have been clever

Don’t let us be misunderstood

 

Fanny turn the gaslight up

Now open the curtains wide

The horizon goes on forever

And I am on the other side

The lies and old malt whisky

Have poisoned all that’s good

Your captives have been clever

Don’t let us be misunderstood

 

Fanny turn the gaslight up

Pack your toothbrush and your comb

The train awaits on platform six

So make your way back home

The lies and old malt whisky

Have poisoned all that’s good

Your captives have been clever

Don’t let us be misunderstood

 

Poem: The False Widow

The dawn it screams in anger

How can it now be true?

How can the hope that dangled

Briefly

Be sewn with weeds anew?

 

The False Widow smiles insanely

Her web is woven tight

The Puppet Master dances

Madly

Until there is no fight

 

The morning conjures bleakly

How quickly life can change

They measured their options

Clearly

Behind the kitchen range

 

The False Widow smiles insanely

Her web is woven tight

The Puppet Master dances

Madly

Until there is no fight

 

The noontime sun advances

Their motives are quite clear

The marionette now stands

Sadly

Looking beyond the frozen sphere

 

The False Widow smiles insanely

Her web is woven tight

The Puppet Master dances

Madly

Until there is no fight

 

So evening calls more quietly

A vague hope it still clings

Touching love and life

Sincerely

And cutting webs and strings

 

The False Widow smiles insanely

Her web is woven tight

The Puppet Master dances

Madly

Until there is no fight

 

So dust the broom in moonlight

Keep it clean and new

The way ahead still lies

Clearly

Until morning’s early dew

 

Poem: September Song

Boots and bottles and a telescope reel

No-one knows just how I feel

Sitting blindly by a Catherine Wheel

I open my arms to you

 

Write me a song to sing all day long

Catch me a tune to howl at the moon

Watch me waltz on a silver spoon

I open my arms to you

 

My golden daughter does what she oughta

Reading medical books with whisky and water

The words get longer but never shorter

I open my arms to you

 

The breakdown came the breakdown went

Forty-four years they were paid and spent

I’ll pack up my shoes and buy a new tent

I open my arms to you

 

The sun still warms the September air

The grass is green and the day is fair

I look at my life with barely a care

I open my arms to you

 

The fox it will run and the bat does fly

The poacher stares at the empty sky

Time it passes with no reason to cry

I open my arms to you

 

Poem: Shadow Man

Shadow man

Fighting in the dark

Shadow man

Trying to light a spark

Drifting on a winter wind

Wondering where the paths begin

A face follows everywhere you look

Leaping from the pages of each new book

 

Cannot see the enemy

Cannot mark his claim

Cannot fightback anyway

Will not bow to shame

 

Shadow man

Waking in the dark

Shadow man

Rising with the lark

Seeing a ghost of the past

Reaching out for joy that did not last

A face follows everywhere you look

Leaping from the pages of each new book

 

Cannot see the enemy

Cannot mark his claim

Cannot fightback anyway

Will not play his game

 

Shadow man

Drowning in the dark

Shadow man

Walking in the park

Kicking at leaves upon the ground

Knowing what’s lost cannot be found

A face it follows everywhere you look

Leaping from the pages of each new book

 

Cannot see the enemy

Cannot mark his claim

Cannot fightback anyway

Where reason has a name