SQA National 5 texts Archives | Scottish Poetry Library

Èistibh - by Anna Frater

{ Poem }

Feuch an tigeadh guth
tron t-sàmhchair.

Glasgow Sonnet i - by Edwin Morgan

{ Poem }

A mean wind wanders through the backcourt trash.
Hackles on puddles rise, old mattresses
puff briefly and subside…

The Way My Mother Speaks - by Carol Ann Duffy

{ Poem }

I say her phrases to myself
in my head
or under the shallows of my breath,
restful shapes moving.
The day and ever. The day and ever.

In Mrs Tilscher’s Class - by Carol Ann Duffy

{ Poem }

You could travel up the Blue Nile
with your finger, tracing the route
while Mrs Tilscher chanted the scenery.
Tana. Ethiopia. Khartoum. Aswân.

Whilst Leila Sleeps - by Jackie Kay

{ Poem }

I am moving in the dead of night, packing things, turning out lights. My fingers tie knots like fish nets. I want to be in my mother’s house but she is all the way over the other side of the world. Boxes; I can’t see out of the back window. Leila is a bundle in […]

Old Tongue - by Jackie Kay

{ Poem }

When I was eight, I was forced south. Not long after, when I opened my mouth, a strange thing happened. I lost my Scottish accent. Words fell off my tongue: eedyit, dreich, wabbit, crabbit stummer, teuchter, heidbanger, so you are, so am ur, see you, see ma ma, shut yer geggie or I’ll gie you […]

Brooklyn Cop - by Norman MacCaig

{ Poem }

Built like a gorilla but less timid,
thick-fleshed, steak-coloured, with two
hieroglyphs in his face that mean
trouble,

Hotel Room, 12th Floor - by Norman MacCaig

{ Poem }

This morning I watched from here
a helicopter skirting like a damaged insect
the Empire State Building,

War Photographer - by Carol Ann Duffy

{ Poem }

In his dark room he is finally alone
/ with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
/ The only light is red…

Mrs Midas - by Carol Ann Duffy

{ Poem }

It was late September. I’d just poured a glass of wine, begun
/ to unwind, while the vegetables cooked. The kitchen
/ filled with…

Originally - by Carol Ann Duffy

{ Poem }

We came from our own country in a red room
/ which fell through the fields, our mother singing
/ our father’s name to…

Valentine - by Carol Ann Duffy

{ Poem }

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

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