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Jim McDonald
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Primary School teacher, lives in South London, England. Born in the North.
Influences: Han-Shan, Kerouac, Gary Snyder, Jean Giono.
Hobbies: walking, real ale, birdsong more »
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Jim McDonald Poems
Filling Time
I met my grandfather again last night –
strange, as he died in 1998.
World Cup Year.
I spent some time filling him in on what had gone on since.... more »
London
London
I walk every day under your heavy skies
the grey lid that covers your people.
I walk your filthy streets and step past... more »
Gentleness
for Jack Kerouac (1922-69)
Jack the America of your dreams is gone
Gone the brownstone tenements of the night... more »
Penny Farthing
On a crisp Kent Autumn morning
My father throwing sticks, tennis balls, even his car keys
into a brown horsechestnut tree.
Down came showers of leaves and conkers.... more »
Moving Wood
Spent an hour in the morning moving a wood-pile
from near the house where they need to lay pipes
to a copse I cleared two years ago
of a mountain of twenty year hawthorn and briar.... more »
Normandy
Normandy
The path of your seasons is heavy on my heart
Wild winter gales
The early breath of spring-time air... more »
Uncovering Snails
Gardening yesterday I lifted a large log
and uncovered a teeming party of life.
Woodlice scuttled away
An earwig made its hurried passage to safety.... more »
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Comments about Jim McDonald
Moving Wood
Spent an hour in the morning moving a wood-pile
from near the house where they need to lay pipes
to a copse I cleared two years ago
of a mountain of twenty year hawthorn and briar.
It was the remains of a large birch, mossy and lichen-ridden, riddled
with holes and splits.
There was a pleasure in the job as, so early, there was not heat in the wind.
Alone to my thoughts.
The wind was stirring the large leaves of a walnut tree
at once caressing face and filling ears –
sound of distant wood pigeons echoing across the valley.
A few low-flying swallows zip and...
