AS a Helensburgh Central councillor, Graham Hardie is used to words, whether written or read, spoken or heard.

But did you know that he also has another way with words – one which, arguably, makes him the bard of Argyll and Bute Council?

When he isn’t considering planning matters, representing the council on the Strathclyde Partnership for Transport or immersing himself in other authority business, Councillor Hardie indulges in one of his favourite pastimes – poetry.

It runs in his family, as he is a direct blood relative of the Scottish poet Thomas Campbell, who has his own statue in Glasgow’s George Square.

Writing and reciting poetry has also brought Councillor Hardie great success away from the rigours of council business.

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He said: “I started writing poetry in my twenties while at Glasgow University. The inspiration to do so came from a failed romance.

“I had written some poetry in my teens but never thought anything of it. After a couple of years writing I found myself being published in some reputable journals like The David Jones Journal, alongside the then Poet Laureate, Andrew Motion.

“Also, I started to be published in leading Scottish literary journals like Markings and Gutter.

“The icing on the cake was when I was published several times in Agenda, a journal founded by the American poet Ezra Pound and with a worldwide reputation.

“Three small collections published by Ettrick Forest Press followed and I started writing poetry reviews for the online cultural magazine The London Grip.

“The highlight of my poetry career so far was reading to an audience of two hundred people at the Scottish Book Trust in Edinburgh.

“My favourite poet is Spain’s national poet, Lorca, because of the intensity of his work.

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“The gamut of human emotion and ideas as well as love in its purest form are what inspires my poetry

“In the future I hope to win a major poetry prize, and I am presently embarking on writing a book called ‘The Poet’s Cradle’ about my life and all its poetic workings so far.

“Some of my early poetry can be viewed at www.grahamhardie.co.uk, and all my poetry collections and some of my early pamphlets are available in the Mitchell reference library in Glasgow.”

Councillor Hardie – some of whose works are published below – is related on his mother’s side of the family to Thomas Campbell, who lived from 1777 to 1844.

Campbell’s greatest works include ‘The Pleasures of Hope’, a traditional 18th century poem, along with several patriotic war songs.

His statue is on the southeast corner of George Square, across from the City Chambers which form Glasgow City Council’s HQ.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christ’s Dawn

On the eve of Christmas morn

In the fields of the island of Arran

Where the cliffs roam above,

The pixies dance to Bodach’s drum;

While the red unicorns of the Jura sun,

Guard the pass

To this mirror of magical fun.

And as the fairies laugh and play

The lion heart of our souls,

Soars within this wintry glade

And up into the wave of colour;

pink red orange and blue,

While the Seer of Men casts

A portentous spell,

As the light of Christ’s dawn

Rises above the mountain of Goat Fell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Heroes of Men

I am the ilk of this fair

And graceful land

Upon which God has placed

His forbearing hand,

While the rattle of steel and blade

Echoes through this autumnal glade,

Where my brothers fell

In the torrid waters of war,

To recall and tell

What fighting spirits they bore.

For they died for their love

Of Heather, Thistle and Glen,

To be a Scotsman

And to be remembered as the Heroes of Men.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Moon’s Sibling

She is the wisp of the hidden dream; a strip of calico

And a princess in the stream.

She is the stem of the marigold; a button on a basque

And a courtesan lover from the day of old.

She is the ink in my pen; a belligerent eider

And a refugee from the hearts of men.

She is the inheritance of my love; a vestibule in my hand

And the wings of the seraphim flying above.

She is the snowdrop in spring; the bearer of my fate

And the scribe of the words that I have learnt to sing.

She is tide of the moon’s sibling; the enchantment of the sea

And she lives with me in a place where we hid as children

Under the auspice of the ancient elder tree.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Holy Place

A ship slips along the sea at night.

A holy place set in water, where

Saints come to die.

The air is stiff and whales

Swim silently and swiftly

Through the ocean bed