poetry

18d

“Don’t you find
the use of phonetic urban dialect
rather constrictive?”

—Tom Leonard, “Fathers and Sons”
published in Intimate Voices: Selected Work, 1965–1983 (Galloping Dog Press, 1984)

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #TomLeonard

FATHERS AND SONS
Tom Leonard

I remember being ashamed of my father
when he whispered the words out loud
reading the newspaper.

“Don’t you find
the use of phonetic urban dialect
rather constrictive?”
asks a member of the audience.

The poetry reading is over.
I will go home to my children.

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18d

this is thi
six a clock
news thi
man said n
thi reason
a talk wia
BBC accent
iz coz yi
widny wahnt
mi ti talk
aboot thi
trooth wia
voice lik
wanna yoo
scruff. if
a toktaboot
thi trooth
lik wanna yoo
scruff yi
widny thingk
it wuz troo.
jist wanna yoo
scruff tokn.

—Tom Leonard, “The Six O’Clock News”
🎂 Tom Leonard, 22 Aug 1944

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Glasgow #Glaswegian #voice #Scots #Scotslanguage #TomLeonard

The Six O’Clock News
Tom Leonard

this is thi
six a clock
news thi
man said n
thi reason
a talk wia
BBC accent
iz coz yi
widny wahnt
mi ti talk
aboot thi
trooth wia
voice lik
wanna yoo
scruff. if
a toktaboot
thi trooth
lik wanna yoo
scruff yi
widny thingk
it wuz troo.
jist wanna yoo
scruff tokn.
thirza right
way ti spell
ana right way
to tok it. this
is me tokn yir
right way a
spellin. this
is ma trooth.
yooz doant no
thi trooth
yirsellz cawz
yi canny talk
right. this is
the six a clock
nyooz. belt up.

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17d

Starlings return
black commas spill from the sky
festooning rooftops
like coal-coloured bunting…

—Nalini Paul, “August”
published in The Flight of the Turtle: New Writing Scotland 29 (ASL, 2011)

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry

Nalini Paul
AUGUST

Starlings return
black commas spill from the sky
festooning rooftops
like coal-coloured bunting.

The blue, yellow and red have gone.
The County Show outshone Shopping Week
by a well-ploughed mile
and heralded winter.

Black cattle, smudges of soot
in the browning fields.

Sunlight spreads
like toffee melting;
blinds drawn by nine.

The wind comes home again
with rain for company
whips the sea back to life
fills the streets with dark song.

Storms wipe the slate of the year clean
as if summer had never been.

But the last few midge bites
still itch.

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17d

Brutalised Africans made Glasgow
amazing disgrace, how sweet the civic amnesia…
mansions without plaques
unrevised street names
no memorial.

—Kate Tough, “People Made Glasgow”

“A contemporary sickness has its roots in unredressed wrongs”

Today, 23 August, is the International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade & its Abolition

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/people-made-glasgow/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Glasgow #slavery #abolition #SlaveryHistory #RememberSlavery

People Made Glasgow
Kate Tough

Shame in our hulls
why else would we drink to incoherence
jump on the heads of passing men
punch our women
tell our children in a checkout queue,
‘Ah hate bank holidays cuz it means
Ah huftae look at youse fir three days no two.’

The whip’s crack
comes a little after
the whip’s stroke.

People Make Glasgow
obese, rotten-mouthed
stroke-felled, emphysemic
tumour-choked
aye, an proud ae it.
What we murdered them for
we kill ourselves with.

The whip’s crack
comes a little after
the whip’s stroke.

Brutalised Africans made Glasgow
amazing disgrace, how sweet
the civic amnesia…
mansions without plaques
unrevised street names
no memorial.
So, sign-up for the new city tour –

The Glasgow Merchant Experience!
below deck on the Waverley
100 unclothed families
close-chained to plank beds
30 dead since it left Dunoon!
On the dock, a real live auction!
Feel the excitement as you bid
for your very own slave!

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16d

John Maclean (1879–1923), socialist & Red Clydesider, was born #OTD, 24 August

Listen to Hamish Henderson’s “The John Maclean March”, sung by Dick Gaughan (1972)
✊

1/3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uAs5cyy5EM

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #song #folksong #socialism #Scotland #workingclass #history #labourhistory #RedClydeside #HamishHenderson #JohnMaclean

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13d

…but witness these brittle August
bluebells casting seed,
like tiny hearts in caskets
tossed onto a battle ground.

—Kathleen Jamie, “Reliquary”
published in THE TREE HOUSE (Picador, 2004)

1/4

https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/kathleen-jamie/the-tree-house/9781509891825

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #history

Reliquary
by Kathleen Jamie

The land we inhabit opens to reveal
the stain of ancient settlements,
plague pits where we’d lay
our fibre-optic cables;

but witness these brittle August
bluebells casting seed,
like tiny hearts in caskets
tossed onto a battle ground.

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13d

A CHAOS OF LIGHT
New Writing Scotland 43
Ed. by Kirstin Innes, Chris Powici & Niall O’Gallagher

“writing that unsettles and challenges, that questions assumptions and gets us to look at, when it feels so much less painful to look away… A rich, boisterous, tender, charming, angry, sorrowful, gleeful mix”

Available now from all good bookshops!

@bookstodon
@writingcommunity

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws43/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #shortstories #shortfiction #newwriting #writingcommunity

Book cover

A Chaos of Light
New Writing Scotland 43

Edited by Kirstin Innes and Chris Powici
Gaelic Editor: Niall O'Gallagher

A dark purple-black cover. The book title is in pale yellow. A beam of white light rises up from the foot of the cover, forming the letter I in LIGHT. It hits the bottom of the capital A in CHAOS – represented by an upwards-pointing solid triangle – and a burst of colour emerges from the right-hand side of the triangle, as if light was passing through a prism. Multicoloured sparkles rise from the right-hand edge of the cover where the spectrum of light hits it.

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10d

Some days were running legs and joy
and old men telling tomorrow would be
a fine day surely: for sky was red
at setting of sun between the hills…

—Iain Crichton Smith, “Some days were running legs”
published in Deer on the High Hills (Carcanet 2021)

https://www.carcanet.co.uk/9781800170940/deer-on-the-high-hills/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #IainCrichtonSmith

‘Some days were running legs’
Iain Crichton Smith

Some days were running legs and joy
and old men telling tomorrow would be
a fine day surely: for sky was red
at setting of sun between the hills.

Some nights were parting at the gates
with day’s companions: and dew falling
on heads clear of ambition except light
returning and throwing stones at sticks.

Some days were rain flooding forever the green
pasture: and horses turning to the wind
bare smooth backs. The toothed rocks rising
sharp and grey out of the ancient sea.

Some nights were shawling mirrors lest the lightning
strike with the eel’s speed out of the storm.
Black the roman rooks came from the left squawking
and the evening flowed back around their wings.

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12d

In his darkroom he is finally alone
with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
a priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.

—Carol Ann Duffy, “War Photographer”
published in COLLECTED POEMS (Picador, 2019)

https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/carol-ann-duffy/collected-poems/9781447231752

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #warpoetry #photography #journalism

War Photographer
by Carol Ann Duffy

In his darkroom he is finally alone
with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
a priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.

He has a job to do. Solutions slop in trays
beneath his hands, which did not tremble then
though seem to now. Rural England. Home again
to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel,
to fields which don’t explode beneath the feet
of running children in a nightmare heat.

Something is happening. A stranger’s features
faintly start to twist before his eyes,
a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries
of this man’s wife, how he sought approval
without words to do what someone must
and how the blood stained into foreign dust.

A hundred agonies in black-and-white
from which his editor will pick out five or six
for Sunday’s supplement. The reader’s eyeballs prick
with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers.
From the aeroplane he stares impassively at where
he earns his living and they do not care.

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9d

Old gods and goddesses who have lived so long
Through time and never found eternity,
Fettered by wasting wood and hollowing hill,
You should have fled our ever-dying song…

—Edwin Muir, “To the Old Gods”
📷 Ballachulish Figure, c728–524 BCE

https://www.nms.ac.uk/discover-catalogue/a-mysterious-iron-age-figure-from-ballachulish

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #archaeology #IronAge #EdwinMuir

To the Old Gods
by Edwin Muir

Old gods and goddesses who have lived so long
Through time and never found eternity,
Fettered by wasting wood and hollowing hill,

You should have fled our ever-dying song,
The mound, the well, and the green trysting tree.
They have forgotten, yet you linger still.

Goddess of caverned breast and channeled brow,
And cheeks slow hollowed by millennial tears,
Forests of autumn fading in your eyes,

Eternity marvels at your counted years
And kingdoms lost in time, and wonders how
There could be thoughts so bountiful and wise

As yours beneath the ever-breaking bough
And vast compassion curving like the skies.

An early Iron Age wooden carved figure of a woman or girl, standing in front of a wall of woven twigs and branches. The figure is blackened with age, and the wood has twisted and elongated due to the lack of proper preservation when it was discovered in a peatbog in 1880. Carved from a single block of alder, at the time of its discovery it stood 1.4 metres tall (just under 5 feet). The figure has a large, heavy head with inset quartz pebbles for eyes, large ears, a distinct nose and mouth and a round chin.

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11d

I pulled all my mother’s expectations
with me, like a child’s kite, giddy with stir
of spring…

—Lynn Valentine, “St Kilda Crossing”
from DON’T. EVEN. ASK. TOO. HOT.: New Writing Scotland 42 (ASL, 2024)

Today, 29 August, marks the 95th anniversary of the final evacuation of St Kilda. People had lived there for over 2000 years but, by the early 20th century, life had become too difficult to sustain. In 1930 the islanders petitioned for help to leave

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #StKilda

ST KILDA CROSSING
by Lynn Valentine

I pulled all my mother’s expectations
with me, like a child’s kite, giddy with stir
of spring. Because she was cancer-cracked
I turned tourist by proxy, crouched into cleits
looking for leavings of last century.

I photographed fawn smallness of Soays
felt the crash of wind-whipped stacs,
my pockets salt-filled. I leant
on those islands as my mother leant on me,
filled my lungs with their breeze
and leaping green language of sea.

I tried to hold my breath for days,
took it back to my mother, exhaled
island air on her weakened frame –
whispered broken stories of birds and rain.

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11d

Whan du telt me hoo du thowt o ‘luck’
as nae mair as chance, de happy hubbelskju
o aentropie, I thowt onnly o de ben-end
o my grandmidder’s hoose an aa her talismans
o tat…

—Roseanne Watt, “Lukkie”

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/lukkie/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Shetland #Shetlandic #Scots #Scotslanguage

Lukkie
Roseanne Watt

Whan du telt me hoo du thowt o ‘luck’
as nae mair as chance, de happy hubbelskju
o aentropie, I thowt onnly o de ben-end
o my grandmidder’s hoose an aa her talismans
o tat. Inbi, luck wis acht an lenned lik coins,
hot fae de löf. Dere wis wyes aboot it:
a sixpence fir de scratchcairds; tree skoilts
o a gingernut wid gie dee a wish; a dram
onnly ivvir gied sungaets roond de room.
Ee time, ower supper, shö telt me hoo shö won
an aamos fae a haafman; a beaded bag
fir a skurtfoo o her luck at sea. I browt him
tae de dance dat week, but someen took him
fae de cloakroom. Less. Dere’s joost some tings
dat du canna keep a haad o. Dat’s true enoff.
It seems tae me wir luck his aye been wattir
cupped by hands at prayer, in a langwich
at his mair wirds fir ill-luckit tings as fair.
Nivir leet, shö says. De lotto’s demoarn.
Can I git dee a gingernut?

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7d

An lùib na droighne
anns an dris-choille
tha meas an fhoghair
toradh mo ghràidh…

—Niall O’Gallagher, “Crindreas”

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/crindreas/

#Scottish #literature #Gaelic #Gaidhlig #poem #poetry

Crindreas
Niall O’Gallagher

An lùib na droighne
anns an dris-choille
tha meas an fhoghair
toradh mo ghràidh

is dealt na maidne
a’ fàgail taise
a’ gleansadh air a
craiceann làn.

Tha brìgh na deirce
mìlse nas seirbhe
na gèire deilge
a’ stailceadh làimh’

ach dh’aindeoin bhioran
bu mhi a spioladh
is le mo bhilean
bhlaisinn àgh.

Bramble
Niall O’Gallagher

Translated by Deborah Moffatt

Amongst the thorns
in the thicket of brambles,
the autumn berry
is my heart’s desire,

the damp sheen
of the morning dew
gleaming bright on
its full ripe skin.

The sap of the sweet berry
is sharper than the thorn
that pierces the thin skin
of the plundering hand,

but I would pick my fill,
in spite of the pricks
that my lips might taste
the glory of the bramble.

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5d

Page Against the Machine: On the Poetics of AI Refusal

Pip Thornton documents and debates some of the outputs of ‘Writing the Wrongs of AI’, a project which explored creative ways to demonstrate the power that human words, poetics and writing might have in resisting the influence of artificial intelligence in the literary sphere and beyond.

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/2025/09/page-against-the-machine-on-the-poetics-of-ai-refusal/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #AI #genAI #generativeAI

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5d

This far north, the harvest happens late.
Rooks go clattering over the sycamores
whose shadows yawn after them, down to the river.
Uncut wheat staggers under its own weight…

—Dorothy Lawrenson, “September”
Published in Painted, spoken 22

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/september/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #September

September
Dorothy Lawrenson

This far north, the harvest happens late.
Rooks go clattering over the sycamores
whose shadows yawn after them, down to the river.
Uncut wheat staggers under its own weight.

Summer is leaving too, exchanging its gold
for brass and copper. It is not so strange
to feel nostalgia for the present; already
this September evening is as old

as a photograph of itself. The light, the shadows
on the field, are sepia, as if this were
some other evening in September, some other
harvest that went ungathered years ago.

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6d

The mile-high buildings flashed, flushed, greyed, went dark,
greyed, flushed, flashed, chameleons under flak
of cloud and sun…

—Edwin Morgan, “Clydegrad”
CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS, Carcanet 2020

Today, 3 September, is Skyscraper Day

1/2

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

#Scottish #literature #Glasgow #poem #poetry #ConcretePoetry #Skyscraper #SkyscraperDay

Clydegrad
Edwin Morgan

It was so fine we lingered there for hours.
The long broad streets shone strongly after rain.
Sunset blinded the tremble of the crane
we watched from, dazed the heliport-towers.
The mile-high buildings flashed, flushed, greyed, went dark,
greyed, flushed, flashed, chameleons under flak
of cloud and sun. The last far thunder-sack
ripped and spilled its grumble. Ziggurat-stark,
a power-house reflected in the lead
of the old twilight river leapt alive
lit up at every window, and a boat
of students rowed past, slid from black to red
into the blaze. But where will they arrive
with all, boat, city, earth, like them, afloat?

Book cover

EDWIN MORGAN
CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS

edited by
HAMISH WHYTE

Carcanet Classics

The cover image shows a view looking up the face of a concrete tower block, angled against a star-strewn sky – as if the skyscraper was a starship, cruising the cosmos.

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1y

English author, poet, and gardener Vita Sackville-West was born #OTD in 1892.

She published more than a dozen collections of poetry and 13 novels during her life. She was twice awarded the Hawthornden Prize for Imaginative Literature: in 1927 for her pastoral epic, The Land, & in 1933 for her Collected Poems. She was the inspiration for the protagonist of Orlando: A Biography, by her friend & lover Virginia Woolf.

Vita Sackville-West at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/34850

#books #literature #poetry

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

Cover page of Knole and the Sackvilles by V. Sackville-West

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3d

He moves the way light moves: now sudden,
racing up a field as sun clears cloud…

—Sheenagh Pugh, “Him Again”
Published in A Little Touch of Cliff in the Evening: New Writing Scotland 30 (ASL, 2012)

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry

HIM AGAIN
Sheenagh Pugh

He moves the way light moves: now sudden,
racing up a field as sun clears cloud,

now unnoticed, leaching from the world
until you look up into dark.

And he inhabits next door's peat stack,
waiting for winter, and the fat sheep

ready for the show, and the gap
in the window of what was a house

and is a shed, and soon will be out of use.
The berries that were once white blossom

on the brambles belong to him,
so they say, and lose all their taste

on a certain day, when he comes to harvest
what is alive, and ripe, and his own.

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1d

“SANGSCHAW… gave other writers permission to push the boundaries of Scots as a language of literature, capable of expressing deep thought and not just for light comedy or mawkish whimsy”

Celebrating the 100th anniversary of Hugh MacDiarmid’s first book

https://www.thenational.scot/culture/25436484.100-year-tribute-hugh-macdiarmid-marking-crucial-work/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #20thcentury #MacDiarmid #HughMacDiarmid

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1d

The glitter of water and the wake…
Heading for University in Aberdeen.
It’s an autumn morning. I am seventeen.
Above the Isle of Skye the dawn’s a flag

of red infuriate ore…

—Iain Crichton Smith, “Aberdeen University 1945–49 (1)”
in DEER ON THE HIGH HILLS, ed. by John Greening (Carcanet, 2021)

https://www.carcanet.co.uk/9781800170940/deer-on-the-high-hills/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #IainCrichtonSmith #Skye #Aberdeen

Aberdeen University 1945–49 (1)
by Iain Crichton Smith

The glitter of water and the wake…
Heading for University in Aberdeen.
It’s an autumn morning. I am seventeen.
Above the Isle of Skye the dawn’s a flag

of red infuriate ore. I see the train
for the first time ever steaming from the Kyle
beyond the screaming seagulls, in the smell
of salt and herring. There’s a tall sad crane.

The landscape, rich, harmonious, unwinds
its perfect symmetry: not the barren stone
and vague frail fences I have always known.
I hold my Homer steady in my hand.

All day we travel and at last dismount
at the busy station of that sparkling town.
A beggar with black glasses sitting down
on the hard stone holds out his cap. I count

the pennies in it. Should I freely give?
Or being more shameful than himself refrain?
His definite shadow is the day’s black stain.
How in such open weakness learn to live?

I turn away, the money in my hand,
profusely sweating, in that granite blaze.
Unknown, unlooked at, I pick up my case.
Everything’s glittering and transient.

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14h

The deid-hole’s a sma-boukit place for you.
You need tae be blawn aboot the cosmos
so’s your live matter mells wi the spaces
and you become the stour starns are made o…

—Alastair Mackie: In Memoriam Hugh MacDiarmid (1892–1978)

Christopher Murray Grieve – Hugh MacDiarmid – died #OTD, 9 September

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #MacDiarmid #HughMacDiarmid

In Memoriam Hugh MacDiarmid (1892–1978)
Alastair Mackie

The deid-hole’s a sma-boukit place for you.
You need tae be blawn aboot the cosmos
so’s your live matter mells wi the spaces
and you become the stour starns are made o.

Sma spirit, ye couped yoursel oot like an ocean
and on it ye sailed tae your odyssey.
Your poems set their bows for the infinite.
It was a sma bit coble made o Scots.

Ahent the muckle brae-face o your brou
barmed the thochts. They were like boolders,
ram-stam, ramgunshoch, aften wilyart. Polyphemus
hurlin craigs at the galleys’ hotterin starns.

And aye the sky-line cockit its fore-finger.
For fifty years laneliness was your crony.
Your spaces were polar anes, the cauld burn
o your mind the aixle-tree that iled your world.

I think o Pascal’s infinite spaces
and Scotland a wee dot in the abyss.
You gied it a starn; the muckle hole skinkles
yet in the licht. Sic matter never dees.

The terror that I feel is for the muckle howe-hole
your last sleep leaves ahent. As if a mountain
that held up the lyft had sunk intae the mools
and suddenly the sky-line’s unfrienly.

And oor steps styter and Scotland’s again
‘the bonny broukit bairn’. Lie back in your kist
licht bearer. And may the giant back-birn
ye cairriet lie lichtly in the earth’s happin.

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9h

Currently on BBC Sounds: Ian McMillan hosts poets Liz Lochhead, Robert Crawford & Hannah Lavery at the Edinburgh Festival

Hannah Lavery performs “Edinburgh is a Story”; “My Work is Loving the World”; & “Miss Has Started Using Sunbeds”

Robert Crawford reads “Camera Obscura” & “Mons Meg”

Liz Lochhead reads a selection of poems including “Trouble Is Not My Middle Name”; “Coming To Poetry”; & “Song For A Dirty Diva”

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002htf2

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Edinburgh

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5d

It's a double book launch!

Mandy Hager and I are launching our new books at 6pm on Wednesday 1 October at Unity Books, Wellington - my new poetry collection "Dracula in the Colonies" and her new novel "Revenge and Rabbit Holes"!

Check out the details here: https://www.timjonesbooks.co.nz/2025/09/04/youre-invited-to-a-double-book-launch-on-wednesday-1-october-dracula-in-the-colonies-by-tim-jones-and-revenge-and-rabbit-holes-by-mandy-hager/

I hope you can come along! Many thanks to The Cuba Press for publishing both books, and to Unity Books Wellington for hosting the launch.

Can't make the launch? You can pre-order Dracula in the Colonies here: https://thecubapress.nz/shop/dracula-in-the-colonies/

#books #bookstodon #nzbooks #Aotearoa #fiction #poetry

Invitation to the launch of "Dracula in the Colonies" by Tim Jones and "Revenge and Rabbit Holes" by Mandy Hager, showing the covers of both books. The launch is at Unity Books, 57 Willis St, Wellington, from 6-7.30pm on Wednesday 1 October 2025.

Edited 4d ago

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1y

English novelist and poet Charlotte Brontë died #OTD in 1855.

She is best known for her novel Jane Eyre, which she published under the gender neutral pen name Currer Bell. Along with "Jane Eyre," her other notable works include "Shirley" (1849) and "Villette" (1853). Brontë's writing is celebrated for its exploration of social issues, particularly the role of women in Victorian society.

Books by Charlotte Brontë at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/408

#books #literature #poetry

Portrait by George Richmond (1850, chalk on paper)

Cover page of The Search After Hapiness [sic]: A Tale by Charlotte Brontë

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1y

Spanish poet and man of letters Manuel José Quintana was born #OTD in 1772.

Quintana was known for his eloquent poetry and his active involvement in the political and cultural affairs of his time. One of Quintana's most famous works is his poem "La Pelayo," which celebrates the victory of the Spanish forces led by Pelayo over the Moors in the Battle of Covadonga in 722 AD.

Books by Manuel José Quintana at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Manuel+Jos%C3%A9+Quintana&submit_search=Go%21

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Portrait of the Spanish romantic poet Manuel José Quintana (1772-1857). This work was donated in 1880 by Manuel José Quintana and Teresa Gómez y Rivas, who were nephews of the poet, to the Iconographic Museum, to later become part of the Gallery of Illustrious Spaniards.

Title page of Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain by Juan Bautista Arriaza et al.

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