literature

34d

<p>All our lives, in every city,<br>out of every landscape<br>the waters of the Alhambra<br>have been murmuring to us…</p><p>—Imtiaz Dharker, “Women Bathing”<br>from The Terrorist At My Table (Bloodaxe Books, 2006)</p><p>A poem for International Woman’s Day </p><p><a href="https://www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/the-terrorist-at-my-table-837" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/product/the-terrorist-at-my-table-837"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.bloodaxebooks.com/ecs/prod</span><span class="invisible">uct/the-terrorist-at-my-table-837</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/womenwriters/" rel="tag">#womenwriters</a> <a href="/tags/internationalwomensday/" rel="tag">#InternationalWomensDay</a></p>

Women Bathing
by Imtiaz Dharker

All our lives, in every city,
out of every landscape
the waters of the Alhambra
have been murmuring to us.
From fountains, from watercourses,
from the secret pools in courtyards,
voices calling across centuries.

The other women are bathing
in the moonlight.

‘Come,’ they say, ‘Come out of the day’s heat,
out of shaded rooms, let’s escape and slip away,
let the veils fall, one by one.
Slide into the pools that lie like mirrors of the sky,
and let the moon wash over our bodies.’

Bodies lush, generously-hipped.
Bodies like pomegranates,
bursting with promises.

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21d

<p>Radcliffe Acquires a Black Feminist’s Archive</p><p>An architect of Black women’s studies, Barbara Smith introduced the concepts of “identity politics” and “intersectionality.”</p><p>by Lydialyle Gibson</p><p><a href="https://www.harvardmagazine.com/museums-collections/barbara-smith-papers-harvard-radcliffe-institute?utm_source=email&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_term=weekly&utm_content=one-of-harvards-oldest-structures-is-hiding-behind-a-beer-garden&utm_campaign=032026" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.harvardmagazine.com/museums-collections/barbara-smith-papers-harvard-radcliffe-institute?utm_source=email&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_term=weekly&utm_content=one-of-harvards-oldest-structures-is-hiding-behind-a-beer-garden&utm_campaign=032026"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.harvardmagazine.com/museum</span><span class="invisible">s-collections/barbara-smith-papers-harvard-radcliffe-institute?utm_source=email&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_term=weekly&utm_content=one-of-harvards-oldest-structures-is-hiding-behind-a-beer-garden&utm_campaign=032026</span></a></p><p>Black fiction & Feminism at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=black+fiction" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=black+fiction"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=black+fiction</span></a><br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=feminism" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=feminism"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=feminism</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/womenhistorymonth/" rel="tag">#womenhistoryMonth</a></p>

Charlotte Perkins Gilman wrote about feminism for the Atlanta Constitution, 10 December 1916, page 4.

Articles about feminism by Charlotte Perkins Gilman and a photo of her as printed in the Atlanta Constitution, December 10, 1916

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feminism#/media/File:Articles_by_and_photo_of_Charlotte_Perkins_Gilman_in_1916.jpg

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34d

<p>I didna speak<br>whan it bleetert doon.<br>Ma man wis gey taen up wi’ getting us<br>sortit, an’ it wis fell lang afore we had<br>the bastes in an’ the fowl settled…</p><p>—Eunice Buchanan, “Wife to Noah”<br>published in MARKINGS 30 (2010)</p><p>A poem for International Women’s Day</p><p><a href="https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/wife-noah/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/wife-noah/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.</span><span class="invisible">uk/poem/wife-noah/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/internationalwomensday/" rel="tag">#InternationalWomensDay</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Wife to Noah
Eunice Buchanan

I didna speak
whan it bleetert doon.
Ma man wis gey taen up wi’ getting us
sortit, an’ it wis fell lang afore we had
the bastes in an’ the fowl settled.

I didna speak
whan the watters spewed
ower ma rigs o’ corn an’ doon the street
intae ma hoose amangst ma rugs
an’ the bonny things I had fae ma mither.

I didna speak
whan I heard ma frien
Becca battrin at the howe o’ wir boat,
her bairn in her airms, yowlin like een
o’ the damned o’Hell. We had linkit
doon the years fae bairnie tae wife.
Ma bonny hinnie, weel-hertit Becca.
I clappit ma haunds tae ma lugs
an’ flung ma airms aboot ma laddies,
but still I didna speak

I didna speak
whan the lift grew black an’ blacker
an’ there wis naither muin nor sun an’ the cries
that had been aa aboot us wir smoored.
Nae soond on that black sea but the doonfa, the dreep,
the plowt, the pish-oot o’ grey watter on grey watter.

I canna speak
o’ the things on the watter
as the days drave on – swollen an’ blae,
wi the sea-maws skirlin an’ pickin, skirlin an’ pickin.
Syne whan the well-heid dried an’ the watters sank,
the laund, oor bonny laund, slaich an’ slairy
wi’ black glaur,
an’ oorsels alane.

But whan I gang the low road on the hinmaist day
an’ I climb the steps for my tryst wi’ God
I will look the Almichty in the face –
an’ I will hae ma say.

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23d

<p>The Real Count of Monte Cristo Was Alexandre Dumas’ Father, a Trailblazing Black General</p><p>Ahead of the March 22 premiere of a new TV adaptation, learn about the life of Thomas-Alexandre Dumas, the French Army officer who inspired the beloved novel</p><p>by Joel Sams</p><p><a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-real-count-of-monte-cristo-was-alexandre-dumas-father-a-trailblazing-black-general-180988347/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-real-count-of-monte-cristo-was-alexandre-dumas-father-a-trailblazing-black-general-180988347/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.smithsonianmag.com/history</span><span class="invisible">/the-real-count-of-monte-cristo-was-alexandre-dumas-father-a-trailblazing-black-general-180988347/</span></a></p><p>The Count of Monte Cristo at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1184" rel="nofollow"><span class="invisible">https://</span>www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1184</a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Painting of general-in-chief Thomas-Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie (1762-1806), he played a pivotal role in the French Revolutionary Wars. By
Olivier Pichat

Pichat captures Alexandre Dumas grand-père rearing black horse, drawn sabre, tricolour cockade in his bicorne hat, and cannon smoke billowing behind fortress walls.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thomas_Alexandre_Dumas_-_Olivier_Pichat.jpg

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34d

<p>Her hair is cut into that perfect slant –<br>An innovation circa ’64 by Vidal Sassoon.<br>She’s wearing C&A’s best effort at Quant<br>Ending just below the knicker-line, daisy-strewn…</p><p>—Liz Lochhead, “Photograph, Art Student, Female, Working Class, 1966”<br>Published in FUGITIVE COLOURS (Birlinn, 2016)</p><p>A poem for International Women’s Day</p><p><a href="https://birlinn.co.uk/product/fugitive-colours/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="birlinn.co.uk/product/fugitive-colours/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">birlinn.co.uk/product/fugitive</span><span class="invisible">-colours/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/internationalwomensday/" rel="tag">#InternationalWomensDay</a></p>

Photograph, Art Student, Female, Working Class
Liz Lochhead

Her hair is cut into that perfect slant –
An innovation circa ‘64 by Vidal Sassoon.
She’s wearing C&A’s best effort at Quant
Ending just below the knicker-line, daisy-strewn.
Keeping herself in tights could blow her grant
Entirely, so each precious pair is soon
Spattered with nail varnish dots that stop each run.
She’s a girl, eighteen – just wants to have fun.

She’s not ‘a chick’. Not yet. Besides, by then
She’ll find the term ‘offensive’. ‘Dollybird’ to quote
Her favourite mags, is what she aspires to when
Her head’s still full of Honey and Petticoat.
It’s almost the last year that, quite this blithely, men
Up ladders or on building sites wolf-whistle to note
The approval they’re sure she will appreciate.
Why not? She did it for their benefit, looks great.

Nor does she object. Wouldn’t think she has the right.
Though when that lech of a lecturer comments on her tits
To a male classmate, openly, she might
Feel – quick as a run in nylon – that it’s
Not what ought to happen, is not polite,
She’ll burn, but smile, have no word that fits
The insult, can’t subject it to language’s prism.
In sixty-six there’s plenty sex, but not ‘sexism’.

Soon: The Female Eunuch and enough
Will be enough. Thanks to newfound feminism and Greer,
Women’ll have the words for all this stuff,
What already rankles, but confuses her, will seem clear
And she’ll (consciously) be no one’s ‘bit of fluff’
Or ‘skirt’ or ‘crumpet’. She’ll know the rule is ‘gay’ not ‘queer’,
‘Ms’ not ‘Miss’ or ‘Mrs’ – she’ll happily obey it
And, sure as the Pill in her pocket, that’s how she’ll say it.

This photo’s saying nothing, is black and white, opaque.
A frozen moment, not a memory.
The boyfriend with the Pentax took it for the sake
Of taking it, a shot among many others, randomly,
To see how it would develop. Didn’t imagine it’d make
An image so typical it’d capture time so perfectly.
How does she feel? Hey, girl, did it feel strange
To be waiting for the a-changing times to change?

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33d

<p>in the room/in the street/on the stair/where some men make free<br>in plain sight or in secret as if we were sweetmeat…</p><p>—Pippa Little, “Spartaca”<br>published in <a href="/tags/metoo/" rel="tag">#MeToo</a>: A women’s poetry anthology (Fair Acre Press, 2018)</p><p>A poem for International Women’s Day </p><p><a href="https://fairacrepress.co.uk/shop/metoo-rallying-against-sexual-assault-and-harassment-a-womens-poetry-anthology/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="fairacrepress.co.uk/shop/metoo-rallying-against-sexual-assault-and-harassment-a-womens-poetry-anthology/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">fairacrepress.co.uk/shop/metoo</span><span class="invisible">-rallying-against-sexual-assault-and-harassment-a-womens-poetry-anthology/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/internationalwomensday/" rel="tag">#InternationalWomensDay</a> <a href="/tags/metoo/" rel="tag">#MeToo</a></p>

Spartaca
by Pippa Little

in the room/in the street/on the stair/where some men make free
in plain sight or in secret as if we were sweetmeat/to dip
fingers in and then forget – it is the being alone
afterwards that numbs and maims, utterly
alone in the silence of it/where shame creeps in/
stuns dead/but now we rise, all women
fondled and hurt and licked in acid jokery and in hate,
pets, sweethearts, loves, darlings, humourless bitches –
we stand together, each one a Spartaca
no longer silent or alone: each voice stronger,
massing, alive, a wild murmuration
of me too/me too/me too

Spartacus was a rebel slave hunted down by the Romans to be crucified. Asked to identify himself by soldiers, everyone in the crowd around him stepped forward and said ‘I am Spartacus’.

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23d

<p>“Scottishness is as much myth as it is history, which means that we must guard it carefully, retell it beautifully &, more than anything else, love it wisely”</p><p>John Burnside (1955–2024) was born <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a>, 19 March. His career as an author & poet spanned nearly 40 years</p><p>1/10</p><p><a href="https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/2024/07/in-search-of-a-homeland" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.newstatesman.com/culture/2024/07/in-search-of-a-homeland"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.newstatesman.com/culture/2</span><span class="invisible">024/07/in-search-of-a-homeland</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/novels/" rel="tag">#novels</a> <a href="/tags/johnburnside/" rel="tag">#JohnBurnside</a> <a href="/tags/scottishness/" rel="tag">#Scottishness</a> <a href="/tags/scottishidentity/" rel="tag">#ScottishIdentity</a></p>

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33d

<p>"The progress of despotism tends to disappoint its own purpose."<br>The history of the decline and fall of the Roman empire</p><p>The Chronicler of Decline</p><p>Is it too late for our republic to learn from Gibbon’s epic history of Rome’s collapse?</p><p>by Ed Simon</p><p><a href="https://hedgehogreview.com/web-features/thr/posts/the-chronicler-of-decline" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="hedgehogreview.com/web-features/thr/posts/the-chronicler-of-decline"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">hedgehogreview.com/web-feature</span><span class="invisible">s/thr/posts/the-chronicler-of-decline</span></a></p><p>Gibbon at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/375" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/375"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/375</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/history/" rel="tag">#history</a> <a href="/tags/politics/" rel="tag">#politics</a></p>

Portrait of Edward Gibbon (1737–1794)

An oil portrait of a heavyset middle-aged man shown from the chest up against a dark background. He wears a bright red coat with large gold buttons over a waistcoat, with a white ruffled lace cravat at the neck. His grey powdered wig has a long queue tied with a black ribbon falling over his shoulder. He faces slightly left with a composed, somewhat self-satisfied expression.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Gibbon#/media/File:Edward_Emily_Gibbon.jpg

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33d

<p>Elizabeth Gaskell: The Unsung Author Jane Austen And Brontë Fans Will Love</p><p>The Victorian writer had the wit of one, and the friendship of the other.</p><p>By Amy Glover</p><p><a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/read-gaskell-if-you-like-bronte-austen_uk_69aaaff3e4b0bda876a8b99a" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/read-gaskell-if-you-like-bronte-austen_uk_69aaaff3e4b0bda876a8b99a"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry</span><span class="invisible">/read-gaskell-if-you-like-bronte-austen_uk_69aaaff3e4b0bda876a8b99a</span></a></p><p>Gaskell at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/220" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/220"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/220</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/womenhistorymonth/" rel="tag">#womenhistoryMonth</a></p>

Elizabeth Gaskell: 1851 portrait by George Richmond.

A chalk portrait drawing of a Gaskell, shown from the chest up against a plain light background. She has dark hair parted centrally and drawn back smoothly, with loose strands falling at the sides. Her features are delicate and her expression gentle and slightly smiling. She wears a light dress with a dark brooch or bow at the neckline.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Gaskell#/media/File:Elizabeth_Gaskell.jpg

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33d

<p><a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1892, Vita Sackville-West is born. </p><p>"Sackville-West was a successful novelist, poet and journalist, as well as a prolific letter writer and diarist. She published more than a dozen collections of poetry and 13 novels during her life.... She was the inspiration for the protagonist of Orlando: A Biography, by her friend and lover Virginia Woolf."</p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vita_Sackville-West" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vita_Sackville-West"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vita_Sac</span><span class="invisible">kville-West</span></a></p><p>Books by Sackville-West at PG:</p><p><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/34850" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/34850"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/34850</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

"Sackville-West around 1915, from The Life of V.Sackville-West by Victoria Glendinning" - wikipedia

Edited 33d ago

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33d

<p>How we could ever have come to this pass?<br>Is all we are asking…</p><p>—James Findlay Hendry (1912–1986), “Question & Answer”</p><p>With GS Fraser & Henry Treece, the author, poet & translator JF Hendry was a contributor to the “New Apocalyptics” poetic movement of the 1930s & 40s</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/from_the_line/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/from_the_line/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/publications/books</span><span class="invisible">/volumes/from_the_line/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/warpoetry/" rel="tag">#warpoetry</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/ww2/" rel="tag">#WW2</a></p>

J. F. Hendry
Question and Answer

How we could ever have come to this pass?
Is all we are asking. Each of our
Bursts of anti-aircraft fire
Hangs a torn wound of questions in the air.

How we could ever, like cattle at grass,
Drift with shadowless clouds, unaware,
Into this era of lightnings and war?
There is no shelter, now or ever, from that answer.

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33d

<p>How Burns Suppers Became a Global Phenomenon</p><p>What if the traditional Burns Night could fuse cultures & challenge traditions? Dr Cleo O'Callaghan Yeoman from the University of Glasgow reveals how this centuries-old tribute to Scotland’s national poet is transforming around the world</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owgUdrm0SmQ" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.youtube.com/watch?v=owgUdrm0SmQ"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.youtube.com/watch?v=owgUdr</span><span class="invisible">m0SmQ</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/robertburns/" rel="tag">#RobertBurns</a> <a href="/tags/burnsnight/" rel="tag">#BurnsNight</a> <a href="/tags/cultures/" rel="tag">#cultures</a></p>

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33d

<p>Responding to Alasdair Gray’s LANARK<br>15 April, University of Glasgow – free, ticketed</p><p>Rachelle Atalla in conversation with Rodge Glass, presented by The Alasdair Gray Archive. Rachelle Atalla will read from her newly commissioned short story, “Waste Management”, which delves into Glasgow’s hidden subterranean layers, drawing inspiration from LANARK & the city’s sanitation infrastructure</p><p><a href="https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/responding-to-alasdair-grays-lanark-tickets-1984371725248" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/responding-to-alasdair-grays-lanark-tickets-1984371725248"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/respond</span><span class="invisible">ing-to-alasdair-grays-lanark-tickets-1984371725248</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/alasdairgray/" rel="tag">#AlasdairGray</a> <a href="/tags/lanark/" rel="tag">#Lanark</a></p>

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33d

<p>“not only is there no invocation of the free market […Smith] plainly sees that government, not private industry, is the only force capable of effectively ‘erecting and maintaining’ the technically unprofitable but nevertheless indispensable ‘publick works’ and ‘publick institutions’”</p><p>—Adam Smith’s THE WEALTH OF NATIONS was published 250 years ago <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a>, 8 March 1776. Evan Gottlieb examines Smith’s “Invisible Hand”</p><p><a href="https://www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2013/05/invisible-hand-over-fist-on-the-development-and-legacy-of-adam-smiths-famous-phrase/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2013/05/invisible-hand-over-fist-on-the-development-and-legacy-of-adam-smiths-famous-phrase/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2013/0</span><span class="invisible">5/invisible-hand-over-fist-on-the-development-and-legacy-of-adam-smiths-famous-phrase/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/18thcentury/" rel="tag">#18thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/economics/" rel="tag">#economics</a> <a href="/tags/adamsmith/" rel="tag">#AdamSmith</a></p>

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21d

<p>you don’t get prose in anapaestic dimeters<br>nobody publishes their first slim volume of prose<br>aristotle never wrote The Proses</p><p>—Tom Leonard, “100 Differences Between Poetry & Prose”</p><p>Today, 21 March, is World Poetry Day! </p><p><a href="https://www.tomleonard.co.uk/online-poetry-and-prose/100-differences-between-poetry-and-prose.html" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.tomleonard.co.uk/online-poetry-and-prose/100-differences-between-poetry-and-prose.html"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.tomleonard.co.uk/online-po</span><span class="invisible">etry-and-prose/100-differences-between-poetry-and-prose.html</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/worldpoetryday/" rel="tag">#WorldPoetryDay</a></p>

100 Differences Between Poetry and Prose
Tom Leonard

poetry stops before the end of the margin
you can talk about prose without mentioning school
you don’t read poetry to get from Glasgow to Saltcoats without noticing

John Menzies doesn’t stock poetry
whoever heard of war & peace having the line as a unit of semantic yield
you can call a poem what you want and say its poetic licence

poetry is the subliminal history of linguistic shape
ahem
poetry has four wheels, two wings and a pair of false teeth

poetry is the heart and the brain divided by the lungs
poetry is the world’s oldest cock and fanny story

you don’t get prose in anapaestic dimeters
nobody publishes their first slim volume of prose
aristotle never wrote The Proses

if you dribble past five defenders, it isn’t called sheer prose
poets are the unacknowledged thingwaybobs

poetry is quintessentially contrapuntal
the square root of poetry is an ever-evolving quark
whenever Vergil looked in the mirror, he beheld an epic Latin poet

poetry is all the juicy bits in the juiciest order
poetry is jellied religion
pascal: if your labourers complain too much, try taking them to a poetry reading

prose goes scchhpludd
prose goes scchhpludd scchhpludd clomp clomp clomp
are you sitting comfortably

then I’ll end

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21d

<p>It’s for weddings<br>and funerals<br>and reading on the train<br>and for taking a person out of herself<br>and bringing her back more sane…</p><p>—Helena Nelson, “Poetry Forum”<br>published in DOWN WITH POETRY! (Happenstance, 2016)</p><p><a href="https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/poetry-forum/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/poetry-forum/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.</span><span class="invisible">uk/poem/poetry-forum/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/worldpoetryday/" rel="tag">#WorldPoetryDay</a></p>

Poetry Forum
by Helena Nelson

What is poetry for? (Maitreyabhandu)

It’s for weddings
and funerals
and reading on the train
and for taking a person out of herself
and bringing her back more sane.

It’s for children
and lunatics
and chimney-sweeps and punks
It’s for teachers
and preachers
and politicians and drunks.

It’s for dinner
and afternoon tea
and marvellous midnight snacks.
It’s for cravings
and ravings
and low-poetry attacks.

It’s for four o’clock
for four of us
and for five o’clock
for five.
It’s for fortitude
and forums
for formalists to survive.

It’s for all we know intelligent
and rarely less than clever.
You can get some
for nothing
and remember it
forever.

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21d

<p>Tha i mar bharaille de sgadan saillte:<br>chan eil agad ach do chròg<br>a stobadh ann, agus dòrlach a thoirt a-mach,<br>reamhar is tiugh leis a’ bhuntàta…</p><p>—Aonghas Phàdraig Caimbeul, “Bàrdachd”<br>published in AIBISIDH, Polygon Books 2011</p><p><a href="https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/bardachd/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/bardachd/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.</span><span class="invisible">uk/poem/bardachd/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/gaidhlig/" rel="tag">#Gaidhlig</a> <a href="/tags/gaelic/" rel="tag">#Gaelic</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/worldpoetryday/" rel="tag">#WorldPoetryDay</a></p>

Bàrdachd
Aonghas Phàdraig Caimbeul

Tha i mar bharaille de sgadan saillte:
chan eil agad ach do chròg
a stobadh ann, agus dòrlach a thoirt a-mach,
reamhar is tiugh leis a’ bhuntàta.

Stob
an t-ìm na mheasg
agus tha cuirm agad: Eliot is Donnachadh Bàn,
le do làmhan rùisgte. Seachain
forca is sgian: fàg sin aig na sgoilearan.

Nuair a thig thu gu bonn a’ bharaille
sgròb na craicinn ri chèile,
dean ràth chnàimhean,
lìon lannan
’s tilg sin thairis
dìreach mu àm reothairt.

Ma ghlacas tu adag,
thoir leat i: nuair tha an sgadan
gann, nì easgann fraighte fhèin a’ chùis
san acras.

Poetry
Angus Peter Campbell

It’s like a barrel of salt herring:
you only have to stick your paw
in, and lift a handful out,
thick and juicy with the tatties.

Pile
the butter in the middle
and you have a feast: Eliot and Duncan Bàn,
eaten with your bare fingers. Don’t use
a knife and fork: leave that to the scholars.

When you reach the bottom of the barrel
scrape the skins together,
make a raft of bones,
a net of fine filament,
and fling it over the side
just after the spring tide.

If you catch a common haddock,
take it anyway: in the absence
of a fat herring even eels
taste fine when deep-fried.

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21d

<p>a cop in a panda<br>wound down his window & asked us<br>what we had in our bags<br>to which we shouted POETRY!<br>in unison,<br>lifted<br>thick majestic photocopies<br>and POEMS OF THIRTY YEARS<br>by Edwin Morgan into the air<br>as he looked on in horror<br>and told us to be on our way<br>and not to do it again…</p><p>—Graham Fulton, “Poetry Reaper”</p><p><a href="https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/poetry-reaper/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/poetry-reaper/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.</span><span class="invisible">uk/poem/poetry-reaper/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/worldpoetryday/" rel="tag">#WorldPoetryDay</a></p>

The Poetry Reaper
Graham Fulton

sitting in The Scotia
after John McGarrigle who-
was-killed-in-The Clutha’s funeral,
wolfing
triangular tuna sandwiches
and listening to someone singing
We Shall Overcome
into a feedback microphone, I ask
Bobby Christie
if he remembers walking home
twenty-five years ago
from Tom Leonard’s Writers’ Group
in Paisley in the dark
with
towering orange streetlamps
and turning left into Penilee Road
where a cop in a panda
wound down his window and asked us
what we had in our bags
to which we shouted POETRY!
in unison,
lifted
thick majestic photocopies
and POEMS OF THIRTY YEARS
by Edwin Morgan into the air
as he looked on in horror
and told us to be on our way
and not to do it again

and Bobby
disappeared over the hill
as I turned right into Atholl Crescent
to go to a house where I no longer live
to talk to people who
are no longer there,
and Jim Ferguson
is wearing a burning red tie
and brandishing a virtual cigarette, and
We Shall Overcome was sung
by Joan Baez in 1963, it’s really
hard to believe, it feels
as if yesterday
has still to happen, tomorrow
is already gone

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31d

<p>Folklore Material in Ruaraidh Erskine’s Gaelic Magazines<br>13 March, free online</p><p>Dr Petra Poncarová discusses materials on Scottish & other Celtic folklore published in Ruaraidh Erskine of Mar’s Gaelic magazines from 1900 to the 1930s</p><p><a href="https://llc.ed.ac.uk/celtic-scottish-studies/css-seminar-series-260313" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="llc.ed.ac.uk/celtic-scottish-studies/css-seminar-series-260313"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">llc.ed.ac.uk/celtic-scottish-s</span><span class="invisible">tudies/css-seminar-series-260313</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/gaidhlig/" rel="tag">#Gaidhlig</a> <a href="/tags/gaeilc/" rel="tag">#Gaeilc</a> <a href="/tags/folklore/" rel="tag">#folklore</a> <a href="/tags/celticstudies/" rel="tag">#CelticStudies</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a></p>

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21d

<p>Poets need not be garlanded;<br>the poet’s head<br>should be innocent of the leaves of the sweet bay tree,<br>twisted. All honour goes to poetry…</p><p>—Liz Lochhead, “Poets Need Not”<br>published in A HANDSEL: New & Collected Poems (Birlinn, 2023)</p><p><a href="https://birlinn.co.uk/product/a-handsel/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="birlinn.co.uk/product/a-handsel/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">birlinn.co.uk/product/a-handse</span><span class="invisible">l/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/worldpoetryday/" rel="tag">#WorldPoetryDay</a></p>

Poets need not
Liz Lochhead

Poets need not be garlanded;
the poet’s head
should be innocent of the leaves of the sweet bay tree,
twisted. All honour goes to poetry.

And poets need no laurels. Why be lauded
for the love of trying to nail the disembodied
image with that one plain word to make it palpable;
for listening in to silence for the rhythm capable
of carrying the thought that’s not thought yet?
The pursuit’s its own reward. So you have to let
the poem come to voice by footering
late in the dark at home, by muttering
syllables of scribbled lines – or what might
be lines, eventually, if you can get it right.

And this, perhaps, in public? The daytime train,
the biro, the back of an envelope, and again
the fun of the wildgoose chase
that goes beyond all this fuss.

Inspiration? Bell rings, penny drops,
the light-bulb goes on and tops
the not-good-enough idea that went before?
No, that’s not how it goes. You write, you score
it out, you write it in again the same
but somehow with a different stress. This is a game
you very seldom win
and most of your efforts end up in the bin.

There’s one hunched and gloomy
heron haunts that nearby stretch of River Kelvin
and it wouldn’t if there were no fish.
If it never in all that greyness passing caught a flash,
a gleam of something, made that quick stab.
That’s how a poem is after a long nothingness, you grab
at that anything and this is food to you.
It comes through, as leaves do.

All praise to poetry, the way it has
of attaching itself to a familiar phrase
in a new way, insisting it be heard and seen.
Poets need no laurels, surely?
their poems, when they can make them happen – even rarely –
crown them with green.

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31d

<p>Does culture make emotion?</p><p>Franz Boas helps us solve the puzzle of where our emotional lives originate: in our selves or in the cultures around us</p><p>by Noga Arikha</p><p><a href="https://aeon.co/essays/who-am-i-when-i-care-emotion-through-the-lens-of-franz-boas?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=6f4e4a3692-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_02_24_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="aeon.co/essays/who-am-i-when-i-care-emotion-through-the-lens-of-franz-boas?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=6f4e4a3692-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_02_24_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">aeon.co/essays/who-am-i-when-i</span><span class="invisible">-care-emotion-through-the-lens-of-franz-boas?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=6f4e4a3692-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_02_24_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972</span></a></p><p>Franz Boas at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/40195" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/40195"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/40195</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/antropology/" rel="tag">#antropology</a></p>

The Indian Tribes on Vancouver Island and on the Coast of British Columbia Based on his own research, Dr. Franz Boas

Boas, Dr. Franz - Boas, Dr. Franz (1887). Zur Ethnologie Britisch-Kolumbiens [Monograph]. Dr.A.PETERMANN'S MITTEILUNGEN AUS JUSTUS PERTHES' GEOGR.ANSTALT 1887, 33, 129–133, 161

The main map uses colour-coded shading to delineate tribal territories — yellow for Kwakiutl tribes, pink for Salish tribes, and green for West Vancouver tribes — with dotted lines marking sub-group boundaries. Three inset maps (Karton A, B, and C) provide detail of northern and eastern areas. Tribal names are densely labelled across the coastal and inland regions. A legend (Erklärung) and scale bar appear at lower centre.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kwakwaka%CA%BCwakw#/media/File:DIE_INDIANERST%C3%84MME_von_VANCOUVER_I%E1%B4%B0%CC%A3_und_an_der_K%C3%9CSTE_von_BRITISCH-COLUMBIA.jpg

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31d

<p>A filth of leaves, she said, a froth, she said<br>Of sudsy flowers, and there’s your mawkish Spring.<br>Oh, barebone tree, what has it done to you?<br>Black field, you’re gone but for remembering…</p><p>—Norman MacCaig, “Green stain”<br>published in THE POEMS OF NORMAN MacCAIG (Birlinn, 2009)</p><p><a href="https://birlinn.co.uk/product/the-poems-of-norman-maccaig/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="birlinn.co.uk/product/the-poems-of-norman-maccaig/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">birlinn.co.uk/product/the-poem</span><span class="invisible">s-of-norman-maccaig/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/normanmaccaig/" rel="tag">#NormanMacCaig</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/spring/" rel="tag">#Spring</a></p>

Green stain
Norman MacCaig

A filth of leaves, she said, a froth, she said
Of sudsy flowers, and there’s your mawkish Spring.
Oh, barebone tree, what has it done to you?
Black field, you’re gone but for remembering.

I keep my winter where my heart should be.
– I’d rather bear it in its blackest moods
Than see those frilly leaves and blossoms make
A haberdashery of wholesome woods.

A mish-mash green, a sickly groping, such
A fumbling into light! How could they surpass
The icy shapes of darling winter hidden
In luckless trees and ill-starred meadow grass?

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31d

<p>Paisley Book Festival 2026<br>15–17 May</p><p>The Paisley Book Festival is a platform for celebrating books, reading and writing in Paisley over the course of three days.</p><p>Now entering its seventh year, the theme for the 2026 Paisley Book Festival is “Everyday Heroes, Everlasting Icons”.</p><p>For the full programme of events, visit the PBF website: </p><p><a href="https://paisleybookfestival.com/programme-full/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="paisleybookfestival.com/programme-full/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">paisleybookfestival.com/progra</span><span class="invisible">mme-full/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/paisley/" rel="tag">#Paisley</a> <a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/bookfestival/" rel="tag">#bookfestival</a></p>

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20d

<p>What we can learn from scientific analysis of Renaissance recipes</p><p>Multispectral imaging, proteomics, historical texts yield new insights into 16th-century medical manuals.</p><p>by Jennifer Ouellette </p><p><a href="https://arstechnica.com/science/2026/03/renaissance-diy-science-people-tested-tweaked-home-remedy-recipes/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="arstechnica.com/science/2026/03/renaissance-diy-science-people-tested-tweaked-home-remedy-recipes/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">arstechnica.com/science/2026/0</span><span class="invisible">3/renaissance-diy-science-people-tested-tweaked-home-remedy-recipes/</span></a></p><p>The Pleasures of the Table by George H. Ellwanger at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/bookshelf/419" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/bookshelf/419"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/books</span><span class="invisible">helf/419</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/cooking/" rel="tag">#cooking</a></p>

LE LIVRE DE TAILLEVENT

Facsimile of the title-page of the edition of 1545

The blackletter text reads:

Title: "Le livre de Taillevent grant cuysinier du Roy de France" — "The book of Taillevent, great cook to the King of France"
Colophon below: notes it was sold at Lyon, freshly printed, at the house of the late Barnabé Chaussard

The central illustration shows a royal banquet scene — elegantly dressed figures seated at a draped table, being served, in a style typical of 15th–16th century French woodcut illustration.

"Taillevent" was the nickname of Guillaume Tirel (c.1310–1395), master cook to several French kings including Charles V and Charles VI. His cookbook Le Viandier is one of the oldest and most important culinary texts in French history, covering medieval court cuisine — sauces, roasts, potages, and spiced dishes.

https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/62354/pg62354-images.html#Page_49

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20d

<p>A revolution in time</p><p>Once local and irregular, time-keeping became universal and linear in 311 BCE. History would never be the same again</p><p>by Paul J Kosmin</p><p><a href="https://aeon.co/essays/when-time-became-regular-and-universal-it-changed-history?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=b51aa80020-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_19&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="aeon.co/essays/when-time-became-regular-and-universal-it-changed-history?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=b51aa80020-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_19&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">aeon.co/essays/when-time-becam</span><span class="invisible">e-regular-and-universal-it-changed-history?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=b51aa80020-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_19&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972</span></a></p><p>Cosmology at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/subject/7398" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/subject/7398"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/subje</span><span class="invisible">ct/7398</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/cosmology/" rel="tag">#cosmology</a></p>

La Materia della Divina Commedia di Dante Alighieri Dichiarata in VI Tavole, 1872.

By Michelangelo Caetani, Monte Cassino Abbey.

The diagram depicts across six tables:
The conical structure of Hell (Inferno), descending in nine concentric circles toward Satan at the centre of the Earth
The terraces of Purgatory, rising as a mountain on the opposite side of the globe
The concentric celestial spheres of Paradise (Paradiso), ascending through the planetary heavens to the Empyrean
The moral and theological categories of souls assigned to each level
Precise spatial and numerical relationships reflecting Dante's Scholastic cosmology

https://pdimagearchive.org/images/710def6c-ff0f-49d6-9c77-dbded91bbc13/

Edited 20d ago

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