Guten Morgan (School of Fine Art, De Montfort University, Leicester, 2000)
#ScottishWriters
Having split, with patience, my first pound note I kept the two halves in case of disbelief. They gave me a glow.
–We come in peace from the third p… Would you take us to your leader? –Bawr stretter! Bawr. Bawr. Stre… –This is a little plastic model of the solar system, with working…
I am waiting for you. I have been travelling all morning… and not eaten. I am lying at the edge of the bush on a dusty path that leads from th…
‘What would you put in the foundat… for future generations?’ ‘A horses… a ballet shoe, a horseshoe crab, a… a sheriff’s star, a pacemaker, a t… a ladybird, a love-letter, a laugh…
The year goes, the woods decay, an… many a summer dies. The swan on Bingham’s pond, a ghost, comes… It goes, and ice appears, it holds… bears gulls that stand around surp…
Sssnnnwhuffffll? Hnwhuffl hhnnwfl hnfl hfl? Gdroblboblhobngbl gbl gl g g g g g… Drublhaflablhaflubhafgabhaflhafl f… gm grawwwww grf grawf awfgm graw g…
At ten I read Mayakovsky had died… learned my first word of Russian,… watched my English teacher poke hi… with a well-chewed HB and get the… to join his easy mocking of my ess…
Poem Translation Tags Poet About this poem
Someone is born again. In the singing tower the rain Sweetened the song And all night long I heard a sad and muffled prayer,
Others are open. You give a high… as you win the Prospero stakes, an… bury your books deeper than any au… could find them sound or unsound. Did you ‘die a papist’, hate dogs,…
Three particles lived in mystical… They made knife, fork, and spoon, and earth, sea, and sky. They made animal, vegetable, and m… and faith, hope, and charity.
No smoke without you, my fire. After you left, your cigarette glowed on in my ash… and sent up a long thread of such… I smiled to wonder who would belie…
Turn the kaleidoscope and the seve… Stretches, yawns, shakes the roof… Off its back in clumsy dollops, ge… Going, cries of ‘It’s freezing!’… Of tenement winter), puts some cof…
There were never strawberries like the ones we had that sultry afternoon sitting on the step of the open french window
Oh for Christ’s sake gie the sign… Alchemist my erse, but he’s hermle… He’ll never blaw us up in oor beds… If makkin wings is his new-fanglt… It’ll no cost the earth– a wheen o…