Two Years of Silence

Dear WordPress friends,

I have just finished collating all my posts into one giant WordDoc. Between 2012 – 2014, I wrote over 90+ poems and short stories, adding to a total of 20,387 words. That said, I’m not sure I’ll ever post here again.

It has been two years since my last post, and in that time I have changed significantly – both as a writer and as a person. This whole site feels like a time capsule, I just can’t see myself continuing on as if nothing happened.

As I was copying my posts into this WordDoc, I became overwhelmed with nostalgia. I started reading some of your amazing comments, and revisiting my old poems. I owe you all a giant thank you: thank you, thank you, thank you!

Between 2012-2014, I gathered over 140 WordPress followers, responded to over 250 comments, received 8,031 views, and posted 83 times. Daily, I interacted with a whole bunch of you: reading your work, comment and sharing your posts. This sense of community carried me through a difficult time in my life when I was changing as a person, when I was figuring out who I was in this world.

For those wondering, I never actually stopped writing, I just stopped uploading. In fact, I probably write more now than I ever have, it’s just very different to the poems I wrote as The Ink Jester. I’ve written two first chapters for two different novels, a lot of poetry, and a tonne of philosophical essays. Not to mention, as a Post-Grad University student, a lot of my creative energy is directed into writing good essays. Whatever the case, you can be sure I’ll never stop writing.

I had great ambitions as a poet. I imagined myself getting published, becoming famous. Does that mean the closing of this blog is indicative of my failure? No, I don’t believe so. When I was writing poems for, I found it necessary to dream. Without the dreams I lacked motivation and focus.

It doesn’t matter that I didn’t achieve these dreams, because in the process I grew as a person, as a writer, as an artist. Very soon, I found I didn’t need the recognition of others to justify my identity – it did not matter that no one had published my work. (Had I actually tried to submit anything, maybe I would have been surprised?). I am young, only twenty-five, it’s not like my days of writing poetry are over. Ambition had its place, but the journey was most important.

I will always remember 2012-2014 as wonderful years of great creativity and exploration. Thank you so much for being a part of my journey. I am unsure what will happen with this site – I may choose to rebrand it, or leave it as a time capsule.

Once again, thank you for all your support.

May the inkwell never run dry,

Iain Sutherland.
(June 14, 2016)


Seven Cigarettes and a Bowler Hat

Bowler Hat

A man in a bowler hat 

tucks a cigarette into the rim.

He stands 


sentient beneath the street lamp.

The night air leaves a chill

on his breath,


so cold. I remember his eyes, 

they were black orbs, anxiously staring. 

He was kicking the curb, 


flicking a silver zippo open and shut. 

He tucked another cigarette 

under the rim, 


number seven. I remember

him whispering under his breath,

hate and spite. 


I lifted my lens, and watched

as the filament cracked

and burst. His


black and white image 

immortalised, forever anxious. 

He would never


smoke, and he would

never leave. Just a man

in a bowler hat


frozen in time

and space–indexed. 

The flash


had startled him, I remember 

his blinking. He wouldn’t

stop blinking,


as if he would never

see again. As I walked away,

he blinked at me


and tucked another


behind the rim. 


All Rights Reserved to © Iain Sutherland, 2014. 
Bowler Hat – Rene Magritte

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amongst the thin leaves


the blades of crystalline grass


unseen and indeterminable


thick sweet shadows

I see

all that I could ever see

and yet

all that I could never see



© Iain Sutherland, 2014

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