Tony Kirk is a poet living in South West France. He is currently working on his new collection which he hopes to launch in 2024. His work has been published etcetera magazine, Poetry Kit (poetry in plague year 2020/2021) and he was recently commended for the Pen Nib International poetry competition in 2021.
Much of his inspiration comes from his travels through the Charente and the Dordogne regions of South West France
from the people he meets, the things he sees and his close obsevation of the natural world.
Do feel free to make contact and collaborate.
[email protected]
"COMMENDED"FOR THE PEN NIB INTERNATIONAL WRITING COMPETITION-POETRY 2021 Katherine Gallagher - Judge 30th January 2022 Cape Cod morning 1950. Painting by Hopper in this blue house a woman looks out of a window time is her only currency the morning sun fills all the spaces right up to the edges the green trees lean they do not look real the coarse pasture struggles in this saline soil she recalls the oceans gentle swell its ripples riding shotgun to a stop as they return she slaps down the creases on her red dress in the distance grey clouds cold and lonely Icarus re-entry was always going to be a problem for Icarus Witches They say she waved her willow wand rides bareback across the face of the moon yet nobody saw her fly the broom that was propped up against the door the cauldron that she stirred that became a pot full of horrors the spells that nobody actually heard her utter they say she lost her reason her head full of vicious voices her mind full of acrid fog for she was lost inside her own full-moon feeling her way around the chamber was her only reality who decided whether she should live or die? we did apparently there was a lot at stake Moon The pop-marked moon cuts through clouds dropping yellow incenderies into the choppy Unreliable narrator Through the window of the asylum Aeroplanes fly on elastic bands. Planets turn on giant cogs. The universe is a starry night The earth is a flat pallet Electric cars run on invisible tracks Betelgeuse has finally gone supernova? While my disconected arm writes you can be sure all this is unreliable |
Published 2020 Poetry Kit Anthology Poems in the Plague Year Supermarket the food aisles are hospital corridors where we play trolley-dodgems under the bright theatre lights we mask up like surgeons with psychiatric intentions our washed hands smooth as shiny paper I see the mask less a touch of the cuckoo I can't help but think that they could be laying their eggs in other people's nests they could be spreaders for they do not know the difference between margarine and butter the checkout workers are safe behind their see-through screens for they operate the clinically clean conveyor belts they too continually wash their red sore hands I pray to god the we don't have a second coming all we can do is wait to come out the otherside The Spider October moonlight the spider weaves in silence a beautiful sunrise The village fair Dodgem lads chuff rainbow sherbet vape. Newton’s third law. Sierra de Almijara High on altitude we watched the sun drop incendiary flares onto library-silent sea |
Published 2020 Poetry Kit Anthology Poems in the Plague Year Now the days shrinkin summer nudges unwillingly into Autumn stiff sunflower stalks curtsy their heads to a silent applause the yellow corn stands to attention in Napoleonic lines the sun's flares light up the landscape folds the straight Roman road create the illusion of forever the cafe shutters push open slow on rusty hinges tables and chairs sit empty on the village square the day is open the clock begins its tick Neil Armstrong Neil Armstrong lunar pilot certainly knew how to fly it nearly running out of fuel programme alarm 1201 The snowman the snowman melts patiently for the ICU monitor to flat line Rogue planets Rogue planets circle. Breaking with tradition. Wandering alone among. the orphan stars. Such powerful machines are lost. February February moonlight the frost weaves in silence a beautiful sunrise |