A D Dawson

"As a boy this place was my playground; as a young man my recreation. Now, as a man in the autumn of my life, it has become my muse..."

(This is the first poem in a collection that I am writing presently - or thinking about writing; the working title is, 'Autumn Winterland')

This poem was inspired by Josh Herrod, the guy that I am working with on the short film... he's a young man that any parent would be proud to call a son.

Dec 09 - 'The Ultimate Ride,' a Bert Dalton story, features in The November edition of Freedom Fiction

"...A D Dawson enthralls us again with his witty & gritty Sergeant Bert Dalton adventure from the heart of UK..." Ujjwal Dey

Dec 09 - I have been invited by an undergraduate, Josh, to be interviewed about my favourite place - which is Vicars Water, Clipstone. It is a BBC initiative and the outcome is a short film.

October 09 - Born to Death

‘I chose my own God and named him Gus…’

Is that the rant of a lunatic? I hear you say, Dear Reader. NO it is not; it is the opening line of my latest work, which features at Saucytooth's webthology

Poetry - September 09

"...Autumn should never have been like this.
A cold wind blowing across the child-drawn hills
Sends a tear down from my eye to my cheek.
My rough hand scrapes against my face as I brush it, the tear, sadly aside..."

From 'The Dead'

I have had a small collection of my poetry, 'Post-Industrial Wasteland' accepted by an online magazine, 'Death Head Grin.'

Death Head Grin - 'Post Industrial Wasteland

The work is made up of 4 pieces, 'The Dead', 'The Old,' The Living' & 'the Unborn.'

The work relates to the post-industrial dog hole of lost causes, chancers and cripples... that is Clipstone, Nottinghamshire.

"...Foolish suggestions from a miserly man,
Sing out like a dirge before the trumpet can herald their arrival.
Peace on earth and all around the grimy backyards they do call,
Home is home and that is all… welcome to our work yard, Spawn.

From 'The Unborn'..."

"...Unknown faces push up against the ice.
Their tormented lungs gasping to burst -
To smash through and dash their wrists against the edge;
Like Cathy's ghost; to be heard: "Let me in, let me in!..."

From 'The Old'