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Oliver Lodge

Oliver is from Scotland where he lives with his wife and their two West Highland White Terriers. Oliver attended engineering classes at the Glasgow University, and continues his adventures in learning.  His writing style is eclectic with a wide emotional range and his touch with the pen, delicate to robust. He prefers raw, spontaneous work, "straight from the gut."- He also has a wicked sense of humor. His favourite poets are: George MacKay Brown, Hugh MacDiarmid, Edwin Muir, Robert Burns, Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon. Oliver’s work has appeared in Flashquake, as the Editor's choice in the Spring 2007 edition and he also won the Balticon 41 Science Fiction Poetry competition 2007, with his poem 'I, POD'. The Ex-BBC site Great Writing chose his poem as the "Pick of the Month".



I tried to keep you dry
in my tinderbox-heart.

Tears made damp
the cosseting place

Love-sparks, fragile,
kindled, dwindled.

Sickly fireflies died
too readily.

Did you cherish
The ember of me?



Pigeon Man

Propped against the gate he stands,
His miner’s hands clasped
To counteract dizziness
Staring skywards, his gaze
Arcing, like wartime searchlight
Following the morphing squadron
Now arrow, now curve, now square

Pride and wonder in his eyes
His smile, his heart
The tight formations
Like iron filings drawn
By a giant magnet behind
A blue paper sky
Funnel at last to the loft





(Note: Kenavara  (In Gaelic,called “Ceann a' Mhara” - Headland of the Sea)

Kenavara is a magnificent headland on the stunning island of Tiree which also boasts three Duns, and ancient chapel ruin and a swallow hole. The Skerryvore lighthouse makes a striking silhouette as the Barra islands and South Uist lie like pearls in the ocean. The sweep of Travee, curving round to Balephuil, is washed by opalescent water.

According to legend,a great Tiree piper wandered drunk into the “Piper’s Cave” intending to outplay “the little people.” Unfortunately, they enjoyed his playing so much, they decided to keep him forever.  Only his terrier dog emerged several days later, hairless and terrified.  On certain nights, when the wind blows from the Northwest, the haunting strains of his piping can still be heard by locals, echoing round the deserted coast.)




Wild and lovely Kenavara,
Towering o'er the raging foam,
From your cliffs my bonnie Barra,
Calls my broken heart to home.
Were I but a humble sea bird,
Scarce an hour would see me there,
Often flies my spirit seaward,
On the silent wings of prayer.
In the caves of Kenavara, 
Fairy pipers play lament,                   
Seals sing for my darling Sara,    
Soothe a heart so badly rent.                       
By Castlebay I left my true love, 
For to fish round Tiree's shore,
At a place my Father knew of,
Twixt Travee and Skerryvore.
Overturned amidst a squall,
Sudden, violent unforetold,
From the vessel I did fall,
Gulping water, sharp and cold.
As towards the ocean's floor,
Filled with brine my body fell,
Yet my spirit flew once more,
To wish my bonnie lass farewell.
On these cliffs of Kenavara,
Will my spirit ever bide,
Grieving for my bonnie Sara,
Yearning for my widowed bride.
We had been but two weeks married,
When the ocean claimed its toll,
Little did she know she carried,
In her womb my unborn soul.
Yet I've seen him in reflection,
Stared into my child's eyes,
Felt in him the resurrection,
Saw in him redemption's prize.






copyright © Oliver Lodge