Biography of Sally Evans
Born London, brought up in the north of England.
connections with Kirkby Lonsdale, Durham amd Newcastle.
Has lived in Scotland since 1979, in Callander since 2000.
Widely published poet in books and magazines, editor of Poetry Scotland and diehard poetry books. runs Keep Poems Alive, a wordpress blogzine.
Gardener and beekeeper
all Sally's poems posted here have been previously published in books, magazines, anthologies, webzines or as part of public projects
Sally Evans's Works:
The Grecian Urn. published by BU at Bucharest University, with translations into Romanian. another edition with translations into Spanish.
Poetic Adventures in Scotland:
ebook by Firewater Press on Amazon
paperbook by diehard, pbk £7.00
A Burrell Tapestry (sequence) diehard
The Honey Seller (includes some Stirling Castle poems) Firewater Press
The Great North Road. Poetry Scotland Windfall chapbooks
The Bees, a Fantasy of the Bees and and Elephant Artist in the Highlands, (seven cantos, prologue and epilogue, with nine full page illustrations by Reinhard Behrens) diehard poetry in landscape.
Bewick Walks to Scotland (sequence and poems) Arrowhead Press
Looking for Scotland (poems and sequences) University of Salzburg Press
Millennial (nine cantos) diehard
Sally Evans Poems
33 Lines For Ginsberg
Beatiest of beats let me address you as you America. Let me bless you charleychaplin poet that you are like Ferlinghetti spreadeagled in air
Ringo's Song [beatles]
I am not the great John, bold and zany, many-talented, a fun man, brainy, brought up in Liverpool, shot in New York before he had properly finished his work.
Frost locks the landscape under sun, silvers the gold of autumn, deepens hollows in the fields, sharpens shadows on the mountainsides,
Black stone soft to carve beads, ornament, brooches. Stone, fine and intricate, to wear, to revel in,
The First Daffodils
Too early for the first daffodils - December snows are banished by dyed and glitter-strewn chrysanthemums,
Gently The Woodsorrel And The Dove
Gently the woodsorrel and the dove evoked wide glades of memory to share my quest across the sea, a world-floor I could float above,
Frank Graham's North Country
He knew the North Country before it was knowable, when roads hid their objects in height, water, wood.
Season Of Mists
I thank you for your view of a view of autumn, Keats who never saw your own autumn with its actual pitfalls. Yours was the autumn of childhood, of hope, or romance, of belief, my mother's autumn though not that of her hardworking family,
Mirror (Flanders Moss, Near Stirling)
I hear the water swishing down, this equilibrium of rain. I think of waterfalls and trees
The southern moors slope down to Scarborough. She watches Eastern seas. She's heard of Whitby Abbey, north
At The Antonine Wall
It scars the dullest part of Scotland, obliterated under warehouses, short term railways, housing schemes, the outskirts of uncertain villages.
The Poem Wild Boar
The Muse sent me the second half of a poem. So, I asked her for a beginning. She continued to refuse this beginning because she knows I am seeking a major beginning,
The Scullery Maid,1910. [ Stirling Castl...
My favourite holly in the castle grew outside the Douglas Garden, softening the large, bare courtyard and attracting songbirds in winter.
for Larry Butler A slight smirr of rain. blows on and off as weather trails
The Angel Of The North
A poet named this new colossus.
The service station told me, 'You can't miss it.'
Miles away, it seemed less than a pylon.
The traffic slowed, we all crept past it,
My eye only partially aligning the car,
Partially taking cognizance of the movement
Of this significant being's massive wings,
And as I went on into Newcastle