Poems - Scottish Poetry Library

The Gallant Weaver

{ Poem }

He is a gallant Weaver.
O, I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear’d my heart wad tine,
And I gied it to the Weaver.

Hame - by Victoria McNulty

{ Poem }

We made it together you and me
Planned the foundation,
Built waws and opened doors
Tae make a hoose, a hame and family

If there’s ever an honest poverty A virgin voyage on tempest sea Tae dig in pillaged dirt Graft cane tae plundered pewter Grams lashed anothers shackelled hand. A man’s a man for aw that? Well no back broke in the plantations. We understand ye didnae go Although ye might have longed it so Midnight flit […]

Atween the lines o Muirland Meg - by Susi Briggs

{ Poem }

Twa hunner years on they still sing alang
“Fer a sheeps cloot she’ll do it and do it til morn”
But I’ll sing yer worth Meg atween aw they lines
Yer a bairn, a wumman, a Goddess divine.

My Yellow Yorlin - by Susi Briggs

{ Poem }

I cuid fain the musk o anither man’s lust,
Tell this bastard that I’ve got a darlin
Or tak his siller and pretend, that I dae consent
Tae the stealin o my yellow yellow yorlin

O Rabbie, I hae seen the day - by Susi Briggs

{ Poem }

Yer pride’s been dunted, no yer hert
Fer me, a lassie chose anither airt
Awa and play wounded in the dirt
Etter yer reasons as tae why

Hunger for a Fruited Thorn - by Morag Anderson

{ Poem }

Night after night you rub against rock,
shed old skin for the pink of new.
Deceit falls from your lips
like seeds from a blackbird’s beak.
And still, I want you.

The Full Tenderness of Parting - by Morag Anderson

{ Poem }

In the trysting thorn’s fragrant shade
my love deflowered a harebell, crushed
plum petals between finger and thumb,
scented my hollows with adder-grey water.

The Unheard Testimony of Agnes Wilson - by Morag Anderson

{ Poem }

Lads of the Auld Licht,
she has always lamented
nights spent serving
foul ale and stale flesh
to your fathers.

A Love Letter From One Of Robert Burns Women - by Janette Ayachi

{ Poem }

It is late now, into the tail arms of Morpheus I fall,
our love will live on in the hearts of many;
you have been the most beautiful worship.

Robert Burns in Scottish Stanza - by Janette Ayachi

{ Poem }

I live on, I play on the souls
Of many from where heather grows
And beyond as life does unfold
Each year I’m sung
On my birthday I rise and roll
Kiss winter sun.

The Night Robert Burns Skull Went For A Walk - by Janette Ayachi

{ Poem }

A phrenologist, spiritualist, Victorian scientist,
surgeon & two workmen swaddled together
to exhume the body of Robert Burns
& raise him from the long dead.
A dank black stone
of the muddy underworld
coughed out his skeleton
as the lantern wobbled & ladder shook.

1 2 3 … 187