An ex-pat Scot living in London, former teacher and business consultant, in EX SITU M.E.Muir shares her concern about the environment with her fascination for the external world and the language we use to talk about it. “EX SITU” is M.E.Muir’s first poetry collection.
Praise for “EX SITU”:
"Sensuous and intelligent poetry to be read over and over again" Louis de Bernieres "It takes words to make a poem and Mary Muir has a bagful of them at her disposal. Some are technical and derive from geology and science, some derive from her love of nature, particular trees and their names, some from her travels and some from a life lived in London and Scotland and the fears and concerns we share living here in Britain. But, to adapt a famous line from Eric Morecambe, words are important but the poet has to put them in the right order. And in poem after poem Mary Muir does this with eloquence, precision and hidden passion. Just read In the Grounds of the Yildiz Palace, Istanbul or Volcanoes Due and you will see what I mean." Ian Dunlop (Ian Dunlop’s published works include a collection of poems, The Urban Fox (2016 and 2019.) His first published work was The Shock of the New, 1972.) "M E Muir...brings London’s cityscape to life, finds the pockets of nature and orchestrates the cacophony of sound from weeds and creatures alike. If Muir exists ‘now only a lunar moment’, at least we have had the pleasure of seeing through her eyes first, riding through the starlight with her." Isabelle Kenyon, Managing Director of Fly on the Wall Press |
Poems from EX SITU
In Loch na Droma Buidhe
Look westward down Loch Sunart to the Sound of Mull. Look west down the scorched path of the sun the white bright swan road where gannets and cormorants line, blinding, and the sun moves down to nest in the shadow of Ardnamurchan looking west from the Otters anchorage. We are looking for sea eagles in stratus-streaked hills two boats at anchor silent as the sun fades; late evening, lately seen diving into sleet-shined sun-shined water hunters armed for terror, for wolf fish, heron, hare; we sky-point, calling love to circle westwards half a mile above as night shuts down and we survive the telling. Poison Where cars lie dying in Ligurian scrapyards the Via Aurelia travels slowly past old coffee cups lined along the wall cow parsley, kiwi fruit smothering dented bonnets as the Lega Norte marches south. Discarded gas-cans, batteries retro'ed just hydrogen-powered fuel cells purr silently ahead of the heavy tread past broken elements of lancias, alfas, fiat, the steel-capped boots tramp south from the border wall carrying precious olives, an offering from infected trees. |
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EX SITU
M.E.Muir ISBN 978-1-913329-18-1 paperback, 21 x 15cm, 84 pages RRP £10.00 Available now
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