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Dominic Fisher Poetry

As if a tree could stutter briefly into being
 lose all its leaves then vaporise”

Bonfire Night from a Loft Window 

Among bees

Some rain has come as respite, this early July, the flowers we had this hottest June on record went some way to counter the climate-dread, the news of war grinding on in Ukraine, destruction and death in Jenin on the West Bank, France in flames in recent days, our own cost of living crisis and our Government’s aptly named Illegal Migration Act. Tomorrow the National Health Service is 75 years old, still going but reeling under 13 years of studied neglect from those in power who don’t like the idea of equality in health provision.

There are some other events at street level that give some cause for hope, some signs of resurgence and renewal. St Paul’s Carnival returned to Bristol last weekend. The poetry scene in Bristol has roared into life post-covid, and the Friends of Horfield Library are hosting a ton of events outside the library (15th July, see events on the home page) as part of Bristol City Council and the West of England Authority’s ‘Love Our High Street’ project. This will feature  – as well as the Bristol Sambistas, Brave Bold Drama, the Lockleaze Singers, stalls, crafts, and other fun – the IsamBards  (at 1,30). In fact you’ll be able to get the IsamBards again in August, but more of that in the next post. Also in the next post – more about Fountain Poets in Wells.

In the meantime here is a sneak preview: a poem that first appeared in the most recent edition of Dreich magazine. Requiem is not only a formal mourning with music, though it is certainly that too, and there are certainly things to mourn in our troubled islands and across the burning world. It is also rest or repose. We could do with some of that.

Requiem among bees with bird


A-star bees, they are
like black pom-poms.
They love-bomb crab blossom
which was tight lollipops
until it opened its white selves
under a blue that goes
all the way.

And in the willow are
many styles of bee
making one hum
in the pale green cat’s paws
one sub-station
under a blue going
all the way out.

And in a tree you won’t find
notes you can’t identify
unwind in a definite bird.
So for one brief world
all war is gone
time has been fixed
and in our mended air
is requiem.

(first published in  Dreich season 6 number 5, 2023)