The Truth About Lies

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Blog Tags:writing, poetry, book review, language
Country:United Kingdom

Scottish author Jim Murdoch discusses writing, his own and other authors, and muses at length about his fascination with the perversity of language. Veering from the nostalgic to the acerbic his blog will amuse anyone with a love of language.

Latest Blog Posts

Ten years after

on Aug 13, 2017

All good things come to an end, and all bad things, too, one supposes, and, as a matter of course, the noncommittal and the inconsequential… The More Things Change, Jim Murdoch This will be my last post. The last for a while in any case. A goo...


on Aug 9, 2017 in: poetry

The North SeaIt's strangehow such a cold and formidable thingreminds me of you, its icy breakers failingon a beach we've never walked onnor likely ever will. And yet perhaps that is it. That after all these miles of travellingdefeat should comeat the...


on Aug 6, 2017 in: poetry, truth

The Dawning(for Cilla) Albeit far away I still sense you –a silent warmth that stirs me to life –I know you're behind me and it's time. The shadows of my past stretch before me. Should I turn around they'll still be there –I know that – but a...


on Aug 2, 2017 in: poetry

Sticks and StonesThey say lots of thingsand some of them are true. They say love is blindbut it's them that can't see. We're real but all that'sleft of them is wordsand words can't hurt us. 12 October 1994    What happened with J. and me?


on Jul 30, 2017 in: home, love, poetry

Blindness(for Cilla) They say love is blind to truthso tell me the truth: what is it you see? Let me hold the words. I need to touch them to know them. Help me. I'm finding my way in the dark –it's like coming home, whatever "home" really means, a...


on Jul 27, 2017 in: poetry

Souvenir(for Cilla) Was it with words or a kisswe tossed it away, that part inside us boththat's gone for good? Or did they rob us? You know where I am of course: I'm apart from you. But what is it you seewhen our eyes do meet? What do they reflect?


on Jul 23, 2017 in: poetry

The Visitor(for J.) He said he was a ‘visitor.’ She didn’t know the expressionbut then there was no one to ask: her world was empty. It seemed he had comea long way to see her. He called himself ‘Love’and had strange waysbut there was only...