Poem in The Clearing (Online)

I have a new poem up at The Clearing, Little Toller’s online journal of poetry and place.

It has come at an especially important moment, as I understand the current editors, having been flung far and wide by academic post and pursuits, will be handing over to a fresh new team. Here’s hoping they preserve the keen focus on quietly explosive nature poetry. It has been a pleasure to follow its progress so far.

Enjoy the poem.


Poetry for Elephants

I received my contributor’s copy of the anthology A Poetry of Elephants today. It is a project I’m proud to have been a part of — not only to be in the company of nearly forty excellent poets — but because all of the proceeds from the sale of the book go to The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust.

It will make an excellent gift for the Elephant-lover in your life, and is now available to order online. You can also read my poem “Letter to the Last Megafauna” halfway down the homepage on the A Poetry of Elephants website.

Congratulations to publisher Valerie Morton, editor Rebecca Gethin, and all the poets featured. Here’s hoping it does much good for our big-hearted brethren.

elephant


Poem Online for Sustainable St. Albans Week

St. Albans, our nearest market town here in the English countryside north of London, has been holding a week-long series of events focusing on sustainable living. As part of the proceedings they solicited poems from the local Ver Poets group on an environmental theme. They have been posting a new poem each day, and all are well worth reading.

Today, hot on the heels of America electing a climate-change denier to its highest office, you can read the short poem “What Will Survive Us“, my prognosis for unchecked human exploitation of the natural world.

Read the poem.

bronze-horses


The Hills (Film-Poem)

<a href="https://vimeo.com/86206272">Click here to watch the video</a>

Text of the Poem

The Hills

It is
too late
in the year
for such weeping,
I tell you, be still,
the winds of our sighing
have left the hills in disarray
and it is late, now, for us
to be singing like this,
undressed, together,
speaking quietly,
as if to forget
just how late.
It is just.
How late?
As if to forget
speaking quietly,
undressed together,
to be sighing like this.
And it is late, now, for us,
to have left the hills in disarray,
the winds of our singing.
I tell you, be still
for such weeping.
In the year
too late.
It is.
Too late
in the year.
For such weeping,
I tell you, be still.
The winds of our sighing
have left the hills. In disarray,
and it is late. Now, for us
to be singing like this,
undressed, together,
speaking quietly.
As if. To forget.
Just. How late
it is.

Continue reading…


Two Poems in London Grip

English RobinI am delighted to have two wingèd poems in London Grip, alongside many other fine works and reviews. The timing is rather perfect — just yesterday on our afternoon walk, we heard the Autumn song of the English Robin, staking out his territory for the long Winter ahead.

I have recorded audio versions of the two poems, which you can listen to below, then proceed to read the text in the Autumn 2013 issue of London Grip, where you will no doubt be roped in to further reading by the many excellent poems in this issue. You have been warned.

<a href="https://soundcloud.com/peakepoetics/seraphim-by-robert-peake" target="_blank">Click here to listen to "Seraphim" on SoundCloud</a>

Click here to read “Seraphim” on London Grip

<a href="https://soundcloud.com/peakepoetics/robin-by-robert-peake" target="_blank">Click here to listen to "Robin" on SoundCloud</a>

Click here to read “Robin” on London Grip