Hello, this is a poem I wrote and recorded about one of my grandchildren. I hope you enjoy.


In the hierarchy of sound
I place the ticking
of my late grandmother’s clock
as middle C.
The purring of Sooty
her black cat sits
somewhere below,
Its meow sits considerably higher,
as do all the sounds of Noah,
my grandson
now three months old.

Asleep on the smokey rag rug
the crackling pops and whistles
of the coal fire reassure,
as do the buttons, buckles, and RAF wings
I play with in their cream coloured tin.
I effortlessly slide from my childhood
to Noah’s as he lies listening.

I have no ticking clock for him.
Only my low grandfather voice,
and my burning desire to ensure
his life is full of music and me,
desperate to be his middle C,
wishing for him,
a world of beautiful polyphony.

poem by Neil William Holland. a.k.a. Soloneili


I Fish For Seatrout In The Dead Of Night

Another poem I wrote based on personal knowledge. Standing on one’s own in a river to fish, then letting the darkness fall through its various stages until its final and complete blackness envelopes you, is a sobering and thoughtful experience. It is the way to catch the ultra shy seatrout, but one’s world certainly transforms with even the slightest rustle or splash. Whilst waiting for the fish the world is transformed and blurs between reality and reflection. I hope you enjoy this audio poem. Best wishes. Neil

The Ghosts Of Who We Are

This is a poem that has been in the making for some time now and is about ‘feeling’ a sense of place, at least that is what I have strived to do. Perhaps my creative spark for this was something akin to nostalgia but I think everyone will identify with a certain sense of place that we all refer to as our ‘roots’. Everything is based on real experiences and facts. In this sound-poem, I wanted to make it about feeling something as it unravels. Oh well, enough from me, I hope you enjoy. Peace and best wishes to al…Neil

Words for Peace

Words For Peace

If I could leave my words for those I love, to understand,
lay me down where grass is sweet and flowers grow,
that I may share the life our meadows know
and spend eternal peace in my beloved land.

In silent prayer I wish for those a friend to me,
may peace be in your life and quiet waters flow,
to nurture heart in those you love and know
and all conjoin in high serenity.

Alone mere words cannot repay the debts we owe,
nor wishes cleanse the souls we’ve grown to be,
but surely love uplifts when all is low
and binds us in one true affinity.

If all could leave their words for those they love to understand
and lay their thoughts in meadows sweet where flowers grow,
we’d nourish all we hope our children come to know
and place true peace in our beloved lands.

The above is a poem by me, Neil William Holland…a.k.a. Soloneili

Mucklestone Races

This is a poem written and read by me, based on Mucklestone races which is a point-to-point horse event (with jumps) held once a year in country fields at the heart of England near the Shropshire Staffordshire border. When it’s over the race course reverts to farmland. It’s based on true events, characters and observations aquired from when I occasionally helped out which I hope I’ve distilled into an essence, and captured some of the sheer eccentric Englishness of it. We’re talking champagne, portaloos and picnic hampers and a very traditional affair that brought together many of the country-set. Essentially it was always a wonderful day out for all concerned. I hope you enjoy the poem and peace to all. Best wishes…Neil

Rascally Weeds

This is a poem inspired by weeds I have seen clinging high up on buildings with only the mortar between the bricks to offer a foothold. This never ceases to amaze me as they defy the power of the wind and the rain, survive the frost and the snow, and say everything about the power of mother nature. It is a free verse poem.

Rascally Weeds.........a poem by Neil william Holland a.k.a. Soloneili, thepoetinthecar

Rascally weeds in tiny crevices
wild on Peregrine-cliffs of lofty towers.
Clinging tight in winds that flow
through lanes of pinioned bowers.

You flourish proudly in man's mortar
steadfast in reclamation,
of mother earth and green-belt slaughter
atop your barren station.

Rascally weeds on high I see you
float your fractal cells in air,
defying all man tries to do
your life-force chiding everywhere.

Rascally weeds of flower and tendril leaves
resplendent in your mother's power.
What clinging mischief nature births,
on mankind's concrete tower.


In Search Of Nirvana (meditation)

In Search of Nirvana (meditation) by Soloneili

Click on post heading to hear the track.
This is recorded through a THX certified microphone using bespoke layered sound design played on an Oxygen2 61 key midi keyboard combined with a Tibetan singing bowl that took me a few years to find (finding the right singing bowl for you as an individual is not an easy thing if you believe in harmonics in respect of people as well as objects). The track is sufficiently long (just over ten minutes) to enable relaxation and subtleties are obtained through rhythms and weight via the velocity sensitive keyboard when playing. This is the first of a series aimed at meditative qualities that help in the search for the state of Nirvana, or simply to chill out with, depending on your own perspective.Best wishes always. Neil