August 2017
At every chevron on every bend, there's a reminder of a new beginning coming after every end.
Mist on the mountains, rolling over the lochan's water, embracing a lost son and a wounded daughter, both trying to get back from following in their father's fading tracks.
Picture: Havenshell
may isle
CONTENTS
- Columns (60)
- Prose poems (24)
- Songs (14)
Welcome
Welcome to 'A Frample', a confused tangle of columns, prose poems and lyrics. It's not so much a blog as an online folder, lying somewhere between a drawer and the bin.
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October 9, 2019 Have you ever sat in your car in a hospital car park, trying not to be sick; wanting not to have seen what you’ve s...
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Young Vi, shortly after her mother left. July 12, 2020 I am writing this just a few days after my mother’s death. It is a personal ...
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1985 They shared the confusion and the tension, silently moving where their legs took them. A journey on another strange path with stran...
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Johnston Press, January 17, 2014 'Too old to rock & roll, too young to be beige' - t hat would probably cover it for mos...
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August 2018 Much is being made, rightly so, of ‘fake news’ these days. We’re not talking about spoof writing but bending and twistin...
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Now when I talked to God I knew he’d understand He said, "Sit by me and I'll be your guiding hand But don't ask me what I thi...
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Fife Free Press, August 30, 1996 Big Brother IS watching and I know where he lives. Once upon a time the church was the grea...
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Johnston Press, Friday, June 26, 2015 Do you get today's newspaper delivered, or did you pick it up from the shop? In the vein of...
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October 5, 1982 I'm glistening like a beached whale, stranded and marooned, gooey and gunky, icky fatso, high and dry. I'm com...
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September 13, 1983 Let the winter come now to clear this gagging heat, and sweep away the sweating rabble in their straining shorts. Let...

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