Living Poems
Welcome, Everyone.
I'm Roger Homer, a writer with a novel approach, based on nature sense, i.e. feeling the essential qualities of my subjects and describing them from the inside, in a similar way to abstract painting. My poetry collections, The Essence of Nature and Love's Mirages are out now with Troubador Publishing (paperback £9.99, e-book £4.99). See below for samples.
There is a mobile version of this site, best viewed in Landscape mode.
Like toys with broken springs (wagtails walking)
sparklers ... silver splashes,
turning oily pools to shivering rainbow (Black Country)
nature revealed ... by sharing of the heartbeat
in nutshells of the universe (music of Sibelius)
Oh! for a love from the core stripped back from so much learned
Were we just children seduced by visions out of need?
we were close, shared much, but jealous needs foot-stamped
you sat on my care as on your worn armchair
smart lovers don't fall; partners must suit their spec.
one has seized the other sunk in its roots, drained the life away.
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Philosophy
About Roger Homer
I see everything in the natural world as created with an inward character or essence. But people are also self conscious, part of this world yet progressively objectifying it as they get older. Nature sense is especially strong in children, who are closer to the origin of life; parents often marvel at the aptness of their observations. But our society prioritises reason: nature sense is largely diminished or lost, remaining strong only in a few of us. In my poems I aim to mobilise this faculty and bring my subjects vividly to my readers' minds.
Other Interests:
The arts in general, psychology, philosophy (ran a course at Exeter U3A), playing keyboard, countryside, conservation, walking, football (ex semi-pro player: "The poor man's Billy Bremner") and other sports.
Career
At London University I got an Arts degree (and a distinction in darts). I then had two careers:
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In journalism, ending up as a sub editor at the Black Lubijanka [Sunday Express} and Daily Mail;
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Later I studied psychology at Regent's College and the Metanoia Institute and qualified as a Licentiate of the National Council of Psychotherapists, with an additional qualification in Bereavement Counselling. I worked in private practice and for the then Employment Service before retiring to concentrate on writing.
Membership
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The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi)
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Exeter Arts Society
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Exmouth U3A
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Just Poetry
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Black Ven poetry group
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Quaywords poetry
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Ramblers Association​
Published Poetry
* In several magazines
* Childhood's Compass (Rhapsodes Press)
* The Essence of Nature (Troubador)
November leaves
The plain grey backdrop highlights
the many roles of leaves:
shaken, bounced, churned
like fairground thrills;
done shimmering in summer,
now slowly glowing embers;
starting out among the greenery
in every shade from calm to frenzy;
meandering like powdered snow,
drifting down or manic-dancing;
fallen, to cushion raindrops,
gladdening the mind;
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for burning or digging in
or prized for winter sleep.
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Suddenly the wind blows chill:
I ponder choices dragging on
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and my new leaves
which must be evergreen.
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Comment
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Soaring joys
Led from the street, we drown
in lights dimmed down and pounding beat
and join our mates in drinking punch,
the jiving bunch, all making dates;
now games begun roll back the years
with laughter, cheers and noisy fun.
But pity those whose pleasure ends
in burst balloons:
no interests shared, nor joy to learn;
dell? to beauty promoting empathy,
spurring creativity
which inflates, climbs
and soars away.
Comment
Future Projects
One more collection, a tragi-comic play and (hopefully) a novel. I'll update on progress periodically.
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Progress
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​ The Essence ...
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It's also available at most bookstores, including Amazon and Waterstones.
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​​Rain rhythms
III
Night rain at wind's whim,
rolling regal across the sky,
hunting down in seething billows,
bucks, plunges, mane-tossing,
all drunk with freedom
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then melts to mist,
hangs, coils, writhes,
wringing heart for heart's ease.
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It picks at windows,
scampers over,
oddly comforting ...
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Then, shattering on glass, brain,
jolting you from armchair thoughts,
comes thicker, faster,
lashing house facades
till ripped away, it tears off,
swept against the racing moon.
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Love's Mirages
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Her two paintings
A ballerina
with an aura luminescent, near-divine,
startles from dark chocolate ground
within a glow that's beckoning off-scene,
obsessing over shoes with rapturous face:
the living-out submerged,
living the life inborn.
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A winter scene:
poisoned sky, frozen fields
bare to the horizon
but for a lone tree
struck through to the heart,
its inborn life
ravaged by the living-out.
Review of Love's Mirages
"Coleridge defined poetry as 'the best words in the best order' ... the poet gives great thought (to this) ... expertly leads the reader to the object in the centre ... and the secret is revealed.
His use of alliteration lends musicality ... the imagery contributes to the pictorial beauty ... you can touch and feel the objects ...
Wonderful poetry!
- Amrita Mohan, Co-ordinator, Joy of Poetry group
Play seen darkly
My local theatre
in the round:
the black curtain edges back
on a silent ad-lib show.
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Clouds banking, breaking up;
a chicken is chasing
a drooping dinosaur,
then changing
into a slice of Emmenthal.
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But I struggle to name characters,
follow the plot and the action,
seeing only darkly
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through a glass of stout.
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You may also enjoy
Beyond a World Apart, a novel by my ALLi
colleague Caitlin Myers with a little-known subject. In 1929 a girl is desperate to escape her family and Dublin's ingrowing Catholic culture and struggling with her sexual identity. She leaves for the gay cabaret scene in Berlin, but falls foul of the Nazis with tragic results.
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Love-star
Universal laws say energy
creates, destroys,
but nothing is entirely lost.
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And love is often like a star:
two bodies with their properties
attract, compact to one,
generating light and heat
which amplify, flare up,
blaze out at the zenith.
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Then comes the paradox:
the energy starts ebbing,
draining till exhausted,
can't support the star
which finally implodes;
it seems there's nothing left.
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And yet, when time and situation suit
the remnants pull in more,
the process starts all over:
the universal laws hold good.
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