I came across The Stare’s Nest by following one link to another link to a third, probably in the footsteps of some poet I liked and who had published there, and was most taken with their mission to publish “poems for a more hopeful world … as the antidote to the cynicism and suspicion”. And honestly, their openly left-leaning political stance appealed too, especially since the fucking UKIP won’t stop fucking sending me fucking election material (articulate poet, that’s me). This is both annoying and highly amusing, because they clearly haven’t cottoned onto the fact that as a filthy foreigner I’m not even eligible to vote in the General Elections. *eye-roll*
Anyway, I digress. It happens a lot.
The point of this post is to say that I am delighted to have On Walking Home At Night published as today’s poem in The Stare’s Nest. I wrote the poem almost four year’s ago and it’s one of the most literal poems I’ve done. I lived in Crumpsall, Manchester at the time which, while it had its charms and perks, wasn’t what one might call quaint. Or affluent. The poem traces my route home from the local tram stop and everything in it is as it happened on that particular night, from the local wolves to the neon flowers, and the indomitable spring crashing through it all like a freight train full of hope.