Andrew Jamison

Read an exclusive poem from Andrew's third collection Swans We Cannot See , which you can buy a signed, first edition of here:

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Read a poem exclusively from Andrew Jamison's second collection 'Stay', which you can buy signed, first editions of here .

Listening to Kings of Convenience In the arpeggioed, folky early stuff like ‘Toxic Girl’ the bass drum’s dumph-dumph-dumph which signals the lead solo stands out a mile, the timing of it almost as comical as the dink-dink-dink of the opening harmonic— somewhere between idyllic and ironic— and the bassline saunters, bum-bums along, like all good basslines, only noticed when they’re gone. This poem featured in Andrew's first collection Happy Hour , published by Gallery Press in

Pictured: The Quoile Bridge, Downpatrick.

Autumning There’s bound to be something in this, this autumning of August, this unsummering of the garden, and the sky that meant so much...

Read a poem exclusively from Andrew's third collection Swans We Cannot See .

Youth Club On a trip to Dundonald Ice Bowl once run by the Presbyterian Church I’ll never forget I found my brother with his mate Mervyn...

Heaven as a Newsagents In heaven there is Mary Miscampbell selling Turkish Delight and Gold and Silver Benson and Hedges, looking down,...

The Party after Chekhov I can see you in the sunlight, Olga, Olga Mikhaylovna, Olga Mikhaylovna, a name that glimmers with its own sense...

September Night ushers in September and streetlights flicker-flicker, the last long evening leaves but nobody grieves when the last leaf...

Words for Summer I’ve wondered if there are words for it, the end of August, all this loving you. Blackberries at Burrington, the sea at...

All the Pretty Horses Tonight I’m saddling up with John Grady on a grey white horse he’s broken in but doesn’t want to lose. For dinner...

"as natural as wildflowers/ that punctuate late summer's uncut lawn." In Praise of Blank Verse The thing I love about blank verse is...

A new poem from Andrew Jamison exclusively for paid subscribers to his blog.

Current   How long is the life of a human  within the universe’s span?   How long is the moment a river otter breaks then unbreaks the...

On Looking Through the Backdoor On Looking Through the Backdoor   The wind buffeted solitary red kite,  sunlight’s single momentary...

Afterlife     Is it true that poets become little birds, palm-sized, black and white, twittering away all day in the beech, peeping out...

Where?   Through the gorse bushes, over the hedges and barred gates there is a path, past the rabbits, a clearing beyond demands,...

New Poem by Andrew Jamison Why? by Andrew Jamison For quiet in the kitchen before the school pickup. For the bluetit busy in the copper...