Eggplant.place

21h

A Latin harsh with Aramaicisms
poured from his lips incessantly; it made
no sense, for surely he was mad…

—Edwin Morgan, “Pilate at Fortingall”
published in CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS (Carcanet, 2020)

https://www.carcanet.co.uk/9781784109967/centenary-selected-poems/

#Scottish #literature #Easter #poem #poetry #GoodFriday

Pilate at Fortingall
by Edwin Morgan

A Latin harsh with Aramaicisms
poured from his lips incessantly; it made
no sense, for surely he was mad. The glade
of birches shamed his rags, in paroxysms
he stumbled, toga’d, furred, blear, brittle, grey.
They told us he sat here beneath the yew
even in downpours; ate dog-scraps. Crows flew
from prehistoric stone to stone all day.
“See him now.” He crawled to the cattle-trough
at dusk, jumbled the water till it sloshed
and spilled into the hoof-mush in blue strands,
slapped with useless despair each sodden cuff,
and washed his hands, and watched his hands, and washed
his hands, and watched his hands, and washed his hands.

ALT

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23h

The cold Roman eye, hand on seal.
Vale. Take the thief away.

“You carry your own tree, Jimmy…”
Another gallowsbird behind.
One ahead, burdened, a bruised brightness…

—George Mackay Brown, “Stations of the Cross: The Good Thief”
published in CARVE THE RUNES: Selected Poems (Birlinn, 2021)

https://birlinn.co.uk/product/carve-the-runes/

#Scottish #literature #Easter #GoodFriday #poem #poetry #Orkney

Stations of the Cross: The Good Thief
George Mackay Brown

The cold Roman eye, hand on seal.
Vale. Take the thief away.

‘You carry your own tree, Jimmy . . .’
Another gallowsbird behind.
One ahead, burdened, a bruised brightness.

I’ve carried millstones, wine-vats, a mast.
That one was a carpenter.
His knees buckle under the heavy baulk.

My mother, poor woman, is dead.
His mother is here. Poor woman. Poor woman.

Look, Simon’s come into town
With an ox to sell.
They’ve laid another yoke on Simon.

Veronica, seamstress. No napkin ever
Soaked up such blood and sweat.

I stagger but I don’t fall.
The sneak-thief plods like a mule.
The bright one, he’s down again.

Those women! Miriam, Judith, Esther
Go home, sing over your cradles.
Sing among looms and pots.

Below, cornfields and vineyards.
A third time, fallen.
He tastes golden dust.

ALT

The soldiers won’t bother, I think,
Haggling over my coat.
No scarecrow would wear a rag like that.

Silence – curses – from cross and cross.
From the mid-ark
A dove wings out into the blackest storm.

Thrust of lance into heart-root.
The soldiers are coming with mallets
To break the legs of the thieves.

The eyes of the mother
Drown all the world in pity and love.
The hammer beats on my knee.

That the hands of such a woman
Fold me gravewards.
Bear me and all men in her folds of light.

ALT

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22h

Three o’clock. The bus lurches
round into the sun. “D’s this go –”
he flops beside me – “right along Bath Street?
– Oh tha’s, tha’s all right, see I’ve
got to get some Easter eggs for the kiddies…

—Edwin Morgan, “Good Friday”
from CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS, @carcanet.bsky.social 2020

https://www.carcanet.co.uk/9781784109967/centenary-selected-poems/

#Scottish #literature #Easter #poem #poetry #GoodFriday #Glasgow

Good Friday
Edwin Morgan

Three o’clock. The bus lurches
round into the sun. “D’s this go –”
he flops beside me – “right along Bath Street?
– Oh tha’s, tha’s all right, see I’ve
got to get some Easter eggs for the kiddies.
I’ve had a wee drink, ye understand –
ye’ll maybe think it’s a – funny day
to be celebrating – well, no, but ye see
I wasny working, and I like to celebrate
when I’m no working – I don’t say it’s right
I’m no saying it’s right, ye understand – ye understand?
But anyway tha’s the way I look at it –
I’m no boring you, eh? – ye see today,
take today, I don’t know what today’s in aid of,
whether Christ was – crucified or was he –
rose fae the dead like, see what I mean?
You’re an educatit man, you can tell me –
– Aye, well. There ye are. It’s been seen
time and again, the working man
has nae education, he jist canny – jist
hasny got it, know what I mean,
he’s jist bliddy ignorant – Christ aye,
bliddy ignorant. Well –” The bus brakes violently,
he lunges for the stair, swings down – off,
into the sun for his Easter eggs,
on very‍‍
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ nearly‍‍
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ steady‍‍
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ legs.

ALT

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22h

Three o’clock. Yer hot cross buns ur in the oven
fur another nine minutes. The soup will be tested at some point
the mora, or maybe oan Sunday…

—Charles Lang, “Good Friday (After Edwin Morgan)”
from NOBODY REMEMBERS THE BIRDMAN: New Writing Scotland 40 (ASL, 2022)

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws40/

#Scottish #literature #Easter #poem #poetry #GoodFriday

Charles Lang
Good Friday

After Edwin Morgan

Three o’clock. Yer hot cross buns ur in the oven
fur another nine minutes. The soup will be tested at some point
the mora, or maybe oan Sunday. The world is oor oyster!
There’ll be nae eggs this year fur a few reasons.

I press play oan the telly: a recordin ae Tuesday night’s Eastenders
preceded by the last minute n a hof ae Tuesday night’s news.
That feels like such a long time ago. The days aw feel the same
but everythin is movin quickly. I fast forward through the theme tune.

lan is feelin guilty fur the part he played in Dennis’s death.
Blackmail is a wonderful thing. Dotty is usin it tae take control ae the Arches.
Will Sharon ever find oot? Will Mick sell the Queen Vic?
Did Carole Baskin kill her disappeared husband n feed him tae her lucrative tigers?

These ur things ye need tae think aboot. The questions
that need tae be answered. Is it possible tae eat mer than three
cream crackers withoot a drink a watter? How many days
will it take me tae complete this 1000-piece New Yorker jigsaw?

TBC. Maybe I’ll dae it the mora, maybe I’ll dae it next week.
Tell ye wit I’ll get most ae it oot the wiy the mora, efter ma soup,
takin a break at aboot three o’clock fur a wee coffee.
The hot cross buns, by the way: outstandin.

ALT

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22h

heh jimmy
yawright ih
stull wayiz urryi
ih

heh jimmy
ma right insane yirra pape
ma right insane yirwanny us jimmy
see it nyir eyes
wanny uz

—Tom Leonard, “The Good Thief”
published in THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF SCOTTISH VERSE, @canongatebooks 2021

https://canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/

#Scottish #literature #Easter #poem #poetry #GoodFriday #Glasgow

Tom Leonard
The Good Thief

heh jimmy
yawright ih
stull wayiz urryi
ih

heh jimmy
ma right insane yirra pape
ma right insane yirwanny us jimmy
see it nyir eyes
wanny uz

heh

heh jimmy
lookslik wirgonny miss thi gemm
gonny miss thi GEMM jimmy
nearly three a cloke thinoo

dork init
good jobe theyve gote the lights

ALT

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1d

Given that Jesus was a radical anticapitalist, modern-day Western Christians would probably crucify him again if they could

#religion #jesus #goodfriday #easter #activism #anticapitalism #EatTheRich #FeedThePoor

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