Published widely in such places as Laldy, Spindrift, Poems for Grenfell Tower, A Kist of Thistles, A Kind of Stupidity and Bridges or Walls?, Peter A won first prize at the 2016 Paisley Spree Fringe Poetry Competition. During 2020, his work was anthologised in Words from Battlefield, Poets Against Trump, Surfing, The Angry Manifesto and Black Lives Matter – Poems for a New World. Peter's debut chapbook, Art of Insomnia, was published by Hedgehog Poetry Press in 2021.
Found in France
Though you would have to concede
its picture perfect rural beauty
here for the record are the things
you wouldn’t like about the place.
The middle of the countryside
such a distance from anywhere.
The crowded transport
transferring from the airport.
The open windows to keep the place cool
The doorway dogs, the ever-darting
The lack of television.
The steps, useful for others,
which would be impossible for you.
Around those steps the lavender
which at home would aid your sleeping
but here for you a nightmare,
attracting wasps and bees.
The spider’s improbably small body,
impossibly spindly long legs,
waiting in the shower room, patiently.
Also the tiny white spider
– I bet you never saw an entirely white spider!
The mosquitoes, the hornets.
The blood-sucking horseflies
almost certainly lining up to feast upon
you in particular.
The bats awaiting
the chance to be entangled in
your lush long hair.
The swimming pool that would be out of bounds for you.
The conversation in which you would not wish to speak.
The revelation before bedtime
concerning the cleaner’s cat,
its trophy mice and
the minor flea infestation
– successfully eradicated we think
but let us know if you get bitten.
As for me,
the only aspect of the French place
I do not appreciate
not being here.
their last have
from here gone
it is said
will make the
earth their own
Do you see
some may be
from which all
are due to
after the black
the slaughter of
words and laughter
Found in France: Art of Insomnia (The Hedgehog Poetry Press)
After: Sci-Fi (Dreich Themes)
Late night teardrop: The Wee Book of Wee Poems
(Dreich Wee Books)
Late night teardrop
I should certainly stop
viewing old home movies,
not because of their patchiness
or participants’ awkwardness –
that’s all part of their charm.
Not because of their faded definition –
I always liked the Impressionists.
Not because they are silent cinema,
recorded with the cheapest camera,
but because they leave my heart haunted.