SQA Higher texts Archives

Èistibh - by Anna Frater

{ Poem }

Feuch an tigeadh guth
tron t-sàmhchair.

A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir - by Somhairle MacGill-Eain
Sorley MacLean

{ Poem }

A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir, fada bhuat, a luaidh, mo thòir; a nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir, gur fada bhuatsa mo bhròn. Mi nochd air linne Ratharsair, ‘s mo làmh air an stiùir, a’ ghaoth gu neo-airstealach a’ crathadh an t-siùil, mo chridhe gu balbh, cràiteach an dèidh do chiùil, an là an-diugh ‘s […]

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.

The Circle - by Don Paterson

{ Poem }

My boy is painting outer space,
and steadies his brush-tip to trace
the comets, planets, moon and sun
and all the circuitry they run…

11:00: Baldovan - by Don Paterson

{ Poem }

Base Camp. Horizontal sleet. Two small boys
have raised the steel flag of the 20 terminus:

me and Ross Mudie are going up the Hilltown
for the first time ever on our own.

Waking with Russell - by Don Paterson

{ Poem }

Whatever the difference is, it all began
the day we woke up face-to-face like lovers
and his four-day-old smile dawned on him again…

Box Room - by Liz Lochhead

{ Poem }

First the welcoming. Smiles all round. A space
For handshakes.

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,

The Bonnie Broukit Bairn - by Hugh MacDiarmid

{ Poem }

Mars is braw in crammasy,
/ Venus in a green silk goun,
/ The auld mune shak’s her gowden feathers,
/ Their starry talk’s a wheen…

Sorting Through - by Liz Lochhead

{ Poem }

the sadness of dispossessed dresses,
/ the decency of good coats roundshouldered
/ in the darkness of wardrobes,
/ the gravitas of lapels,
/ the invisible danders of…

Ceann Loch Aoineart - by Somhairle MacGill-Eain
Sorley MacLean

{ Poem }

Còmhlan bheanntan, stòiteachd bheanntan,
/ còrr-lios bheanntan fàsmhor,
/ cruinneachadh mhullaichean, thulaichean, shlèibhtean
/ tighinn sa bheucaich ghàbhaidh.
/
/ Èirigh ghleanntan, choireachan ùdlaidh,
/ laighe sa bhùirich chràcaich;
/ sìneadh chluaineagan, shuaineagan…

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…

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