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WRITING

Bobby is a poet and a songwriter. He is the Poet in Residence at his local RSPB in Lochwinnoch, from where he gets a fair chunk of his inspiration. His poetry and songs are reflective and contemplative in nature, and draw on his love of the natural landscapes of Scotland and his love of wildlife and mountains.

His book Lots of Things was released in 2023. He is currently studying for a degree in Creative Writing with the Open University.

His current writing and music project encompasses the life and works of Alexander Wilson; son of Renfrewshire, Poet and Father of American Ornithology.

Image by Antoine Merour

Poem: When I Return

Bobby has poetry published in various poetry pamphlets and online journals, and his poem When I Return is published on Stanza’s Poem Map of Scotland, tagged to his favourite mountain, and climbing venue Buachaille Etive Mor in Glen Coe. You can read it here:

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You can read his poetry and prose at the wordpress blog link below.

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Image by Scott Webb

Raising the profile of mental health issues

Bobby also wrote and narrated this poem for the charity Kickin’ On which helps raise the profile of mental health issues for those living the west of Scotland. Bobby was delighted to have been involved in this great initiative.

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Image by Scott Webb

Lots of Things by Bobby Motherwell

A book of reflective words, pictures and memories written before, during and after lockdown.

Released in January 2023 and available to NOW.

MOST RECENT POEMS

Image by Kiona Lee

Wise uncles and fairy raids

Let me have nice dreams,

The floating drowsily downstream dreams,
Slack jawed and unfurrowed brow dreams,
unwoken by pummelling paws,
soft purring maws,
A sleep sunk deep in soft pillows,
on summer beds of dried leaves,
Heads rested in clasped hands we shoot the breeze
Recount glorifying tales,
Sage actors and our peers foretell, 
Of every avenue in which we excel,
and in shadows a changeling awaits,
to inhabit, inhibit, instate.
And never to wake…

But dawn breaks and we shake down the shadows and trust
ourselves, to this unravelling reveal,
kneaded and annealed; our shell,
that in dreams which the dark drew, and well…
Dreams of dolphin clicks and Delphic aunts 
who dispense and tenderly decant ice cold lemonade,
and of wise uncles, and fairy raids.

Image by Phil Hearing

The basket of crabs

Just as you think

You’ve found a way out

Close to the brink

Of escape from the crowd

Just as you’re free

A lone pincer grabs

And drags you back into

The basket of crabs

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