Born in Elderslie. Grew up in Paisley. Lived in Canada for 10 years where he won the Toronto spoken word prize in 1996, the prizes being-A publishing contract with Insomniac Press and performing at Lollapollooza, the North American Glastonbury. Paul has published over thirty poems and a couple of short stories. He recently finished work on a co-written adaptation Of Irvine Welsh's Ecstasy and was nominated for best screenwriting at Milan. A fact which has him pinching himself. Paul successfully completed the MLitt Creative Writing Course at Glasgow University in June, 2012.
Friday 14 Dec 2012
by Paul John Mccafferty
Always she moves me to distraction.
I float amongst hypnotic stars,
coloured by a billion rainbows spilt across
that land of fantasy, she always morphs or flows
around like we are anglers in some torrentuous river.
Cannot but love her, Sister Isis of the moons
veil and the wine of the blood of the vein of the
rose. She of the song of the song behind
songs. The reason i have climbed
the hill, the reason i have raised the
flames, the reason i have loved and
lost and why i love her still.
See her and shake all foolish dream from
your heads my brothers. Queen of nights,
and fruit trees, and everywhere that water
falls and every wind thats ever blown
asparagus and thyme. Give one love it's eternal
assemblance. Walk each ragged pathway while you can.
I am but her loyal servant and you must choose each
shining blessing for your self. In love with every drop of
dew and how she sways the grasses and how she
moves and burns my lips and leaves me longing still.
Wednesday 7 Nov 2012
Seven years whittled down to that last
drab evening in Nova-Scotia. We had
tentatively discussed the three foot crack
in our large iceberg. Two strangers, scared
to head off into warmer climes. We were
with a gaggle of your Canadian buddies,
heading up-hill to some re-knowned
You legged ahead on those stilt legs
with two cigar men, whispering your plans
to keep me. I slow footed through that Glasgow
like place, arm in arm with your kind friend.
I almost put my foot down but having keen
vision, I saw the lump beneath my foot.
A tiny little bird, something
like a robin. I picked it up.
It was, as I recall, dark brown-ish.
Faint yellow at the chest.
I held it close, hoping the flow
of body heat would help to warm it.
Stroking all the while, with my thumbs,
the nape of its neck. We yelled you back,
you came to within ten feet, going
Ahh, it'll be fine, put it in the bush, come on!
You darted back up the hill with the
hoagie chewing businessmen and
I felt a mad affray go on inside
its tiny breast. I kissed its perfect
little head. It went limp.
Died right there in my helpless
hands while you stood at the crest,
flicking your hair, hatching your plans.
I hailed its buoyant spirit on,
Looking up, as another, chirping,
circling, singing madly, swooped
around three times, then took off
over the bay, eastwards, out across the Atlantic.
Turning Up The Radio: Monday 5 Nov 2012
Leader of the Pack: Friday 26 Oct 2012
Dreamworld: Friday 26 Oct 2012
Sean: Tuesday 23 Oct 2012
A View From Loch Fyne: Monday 22 Oct 2012[ RSS .91 RSS 2 ]