Biography of Amos Greig
I have been working with a local small publishers for nearly 25 years. I designed their logo and helped edit some of the books. In 2001 I won a bursary to the John Hewitt Summer School and also studied poetry at James Simmons Summer School.My work has been used in several anthologies and I am currently working on my first book of poetry. I also publish an online literary e-zine called A New Ulster. I've also worked as a visual artist including book covers, logos and children's murals.
Amos Greig Poems
Sheltered field of pleasant green The susurrus of distant wind, Nature gossips Protests at intrusion,
Steel capped icebergs' pierce the sky. In artificial towers Rapunzels refused to let down their hair, Satisfied to watch the tired and hungry
Faceless streets close in around, as corridors seem to stretch into infinity, A burst of adrenaline and the heart seems to beat irregularly a small bird Desperate to escape the cage. The flight of logic begins as images blur into Chaotic thoughts.-
Lord Of The Hill
Scaraveen, Changing weather That is the best description of Irish weather.
The Lost Boy's
Urban concrete jungle In the twilight hours This is where the lost boys are.
Ducking The Weave
In late summer your family disrupted the roads Brought traffic to a standstill, A line, Mother and children blocked the way.
From wild spring onion, flowing water, The crumbling watermills they fled, That countryside gave way to a harsher inner city environment: A spot of green,
Blood dripped onto the green grass He turned to his followers "Tie me to the standing stone" He commanded
He was different from me and yet the same, We had both come to this place of healing Because of the pain our homelands had suffered. Communication was difficult
Generation Y should I? clones following the latest footballers hairstyle children with pierced
Bronze Age shelter slowly eroded by the careless Impersonal presence of sheep and cattle, Ironically being repurposed for original Role.
A cold February morn saw three coracles set forth. Three teams of rowers competed to reach the small island, located in the lake.
We barely saw you during the week, You who worked nights so that we ate, Had a roof over our heads.
Onyx waters lapped pebbled shore, Lonely candles hold total darkness at bay, In distance town lights beckon like lonely Wisp's.
Blood dripped onto the green grass
He turned to his followers
"Tie me to the standing stone"
"Let me meet my death on my feet".
The campfires grow dim,