Lmst

We fecht to lowse oursels, we coup and skar
and joater menseless in the foazie grun,
feart to bide still, and fusionless to rin,
we plouter on, forfeuchan, through the haar…

—Robert Garioch, “The Bog”
published in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS (ASL, 2017)

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

#Scottish #literature #Scotstober #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage

Robert Garioch
The Bog

The lyft is lourd abuin the hechs and howes,
peat-bog and mist hae left nae space atween;
the puddock cours doun frae the wecht abuin,
here is nae leevin-space for men or yowes.

We fecht to lowse oursels, we coup and skar
and joater menseless in the foazie grun,
feart to bide still, and fusionless to rin,
we plouter on, forfeuchan, through the haar.

We rax doun, seeking rock, wi feet grown nesh
frae clatchin in thae never-ending clarts,
ettlin to traipse on stanes, to thole their scarts,
and win to some green haugh, kind to the flesh.

Tho weill we ken it's aye the same auld place,
we fuil oursels to pech and plouter on
frae this black oily puddle-hole to thon,
that gies the meisor of our hirple-pace.

Our thochts are aye on skinklan burns, dour rocks,
clean waters we cuid loup frae stane to stane,
bricht in the sun or weet wi dounricht rain,
dazzlit wi licht and stoun'd by solid shocks.

But maist we think of gangin ither airts,
whaur we micht hae faur distances in sicht,
think lang to traivel til a warld of bricht
pure colour in outlandish foreign pairts.

Sae we jalouse some howff juist owre the brae,
some hevin abuin the sterns, juist out of sicht,
whaur we cuid gae the morn, gin we micht
loup owre the muin, as did the famous quey.

Wanting some yirdlie hevin for Almains,
the Fuhrer maks a furore in our lugs;
we bield in ivory touers or Luftwaffe-skugs,
while bummlan boomers threaten broken banes.

Thae men that fetch us boombs frae yont the seas,
heich in their Heinkels, ken the same despair;
they maun skite flat-out on the slidder air,
forever doomed, like us, to future ease.

Nou the impassioned banshees, in F-moll,
screich out wi siren voices, anger-riven,
Beethoven's chord of Opus 57,
the same that skeiched us in the Usher Hall.

The causey street we staund on shaks and shogs,
freestane fore-storey housses flee in air;
real super-realism everywhere
maks grand pianos mate wi clarty bogs.

The bog—I ken the feel o't weill eneuch,
tak its conditions, staund and dinnae fecht
to lowse my feet, and find it tholes my wecht
ablow the haar, gin but my heid be leugh.

And here are colours braw as onie shroud:
broun and dark broun, black and mair black, an aa
the fud or hint-end of the watergaw,
whaur I hae fand my forpit-met of gowd.

Grey clouds scud aboot
Heavy raindraps plooter doon
And maks grund maukit

#Scotstober #Plooter #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

Fairmer watches dugs
Herdin sheep oot o pasture,
Stick ablow oxters
#Scotstober #Oxter #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

A man walked out of the sea one February morning dressed in a boilersuit & bunnet, and wearing a tartan scarf which had been tucked crosswise under each oxter to be fastened by a safety-pin at a point roughly centre of his shoulder blades…

—James Kelman, “Incident on a Windswept Beach”

Published in THE STORY OF THE STONE: Tales, Entreaties, and Incantations (PM Press, 2025)

https://pmpress.org/index.php?l=product_detail&p=1769

#Scottish #literature #JamesKelman #Flashfiction #Scots #Scotslanguage #Scotstober

James Kelman
Incident on a Windswept Beach

A man walked out of the sea one February morning dressed in a boilersuit & bunnet, and wearing a tartan scarf which had been tucked crosswise under each oxter to be fastened by a safety-pin at a point roughly centre of his shoulder blades; from his neck swung a pair of heavy boots whose laces were knotted together. He brought what must have been a waterproof tobacco-pouch out from a pocket, because when he had rolled a smoke he lighted the thing using a kind of Zippo (also from the pouch) and puffed upon it with an obvious relish. It was an astonishing spectacle.
Hastening over to him I exclaimed: Christ Almighty jimmy, where've you come from?
Back there, he muttered oddly and made to proceed on his path.
At least let me give you a pair of socks! I said.
But he shook his head. No ... I'm not supposed to.

Independence, aye?
"That wee, that puir, that stupit"-
The eternal swick.

#Scotstober #Swick #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

Under a grey sky,
Gaitherin the fallen leaves,
An autumn trauchle.

#Scotstober #trauchle #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

Daith an’ dule will stab ye surely,
Be ye man or wife,
Mony trauchles an’ mischances
In ilk weird are rife;
Bide the storm ye canna hinder,
Mindin’ through the strife,
Hoo the luntin’ lowe o’ beauty
Lichts the grey o’ life.

—Helen Cruickshank, “Sea Buckthorn”
published in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS (ASL, 2017)

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

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #20thcentury #Scots #Scotslanguage #Scotstober

Sea Buckthorn
by Helen Cruickshank

Saut an’ cruel winds tae shear it,
Nichts o’ haar an’ rain –
Ye micht think the sallow buckthorn
Ne’er a hairst could hain;
But amang the sea-bleached branches
Ashen-grey as pain,
Thornset orange berries cluster
Flamin’, beauty-fain.

Daith an’ dule will stab ye surely,
Be ye man or wife,
Mony trauchles an’ mischances
In ilk weird are rife;
Bide the storm ye canna hinder,
Mindin’ through the strife,
Hoo the luntin’ lowe o’ beauty
Lichts the grey o’ life.

Doos sat thegither
Like a thousan grey angels
Oan the warm kirk roof.

#Scotstober #Doo #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

And by the halie tree
In the leaman licht o the wuid,
Squired by a houlet, a hawk and a doo,
Wes his Euridikee…

—“Orpheus”, by Tom Scott (1918–1995)
from A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS

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

#Scottish #literature #Scotstober #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage

Tom Scott
Orpheus

Ye think thon wes the end?
Yon meetin in the wuids
When Thracian Orpheus heard the drum, the cries,
The whud o the bacchantes’ thrangan feet
And, seik in saul,
Mad to be jyned for aye to his Eurydikee,
Strung his harp
And gaed to meet them wi a sang.
Ye think thon wes the end?

Na. Eftir the thrang breeled on, red
Fingert, bluidie-mawed, the riven limbs
Quiveran aye amang the mairtyred gress,
There wes a lull
And throu it syne a roun
And syne as muckle’s a moan
And syne a voice,
Yon voice o his
That quietit the forest and its fowk,
That reconcilit lion and lamb,
Ordert the rain,
Spoke frae the grund
And threept in the greitan tree
‘Euridikee! Euridikee!’

And at the name
A ferlie thing wes duin.
Thir broken bits o bodie, bits o bane,
Brisket, gash, airm and droukit hair
Cam thegither as gin some will
Mair nor the merely real
Had wrocht on them.
And on yon slauchtert grund was formed
Orpheus anew,
Orpheus the singer, Orpheus the makar,
Orpheus cleansed o the auld despair.
And by the halie tree
In the leaman licht o the wuid,
Squired by a houlet, a hawk and a doo,
Wes his Euridikee.

They say he made a new sang,
A nobler nor the auld,
And sings it aye in the great haa o the warld.

They say it will nevir end.

CFP: 18th International Conference on Medieval & Renaissance Scottish Language, Literature, & Culture
1–4 July, University of Bristol, UK

Proposals for papers invited that discuss any aspects of medieval & renaissance Scottish language, literature, & culture, & papers that reflect on these fields from different time periods, languages, & places

@litstudies

Deadline: 14 Nov 2025

https://icmrsllc2026.blogs.bristol.ac.uk/call-for-papers/

#Scottish #literature #language #Scotslanguage #Gaeilc #Gaidhlig #medieval #renaissance

Pathways to Research for Scots in Education
28 Oct, free online

A series of short presentations from current educators, sharing personal insights into teaching the Scots language & rethinking the role of the teacher. Following the talks, take part in an interactive Q&A session & help shape the future of Scots-focused educational research, exploring potential directions & opportunities

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/frlsu-webinar-pathways-to-research-for-scots-in-education-tickets-1764632787169

#Scottish #teachers #education #Scotslanguage #Scots #minoritylanguages

The reason, gin ye waant the truth,
I sleep like this – ma gairdie stieve
upon yer breist, its steekit nieve
laid on yer sma’ hert like an aith –

is no’ for waarmth or peace o’ mind
but that in ma dreams, ma dou,
I’m staunin here upricht, wi’ you
the lang sheld that I grue ahind.

—Don Paterson, “The Human Sheld”
published in RAIN (Faber 2010)

https://www.faber.co.uk/product/9780571251742-rain/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scotslanguage #Scots #Scotstober

The Human Sheld
by Don Paterson

The reason, gin ye waant the truth,
I sleep like this – ma gairdie stieve
upon yer breist, its steekit nieve
laid on yer sma’ hert like an aith –

is no’ for waarmth or peace o’ mind
but that in ma dreams, ma dou,
I’m staunin here upricht, wi’ you
the lang sheld that I grue ahind.

Aifter the boombers cleck
and the sodgers traik thro the skau
there’s an auld air sterts up –
bubblin and greetin.

It’s a ballant mithers sing
on their hunkers i the stour
for a bairn deid.

They ken it by hert.

—Alastair Mackie, “Pietà”
published in The Golden Treasury of Scottish Verse, @canongatebooks, 2021

#Scottish #literature #Scots #Scotslanguage #poem #poetry #warpoem #warpoetry

Pietà
Alastair Mackie

Her face was thrawed.
She wisna aa come.

In the trams o her airms
the wummin held oot her first bairn.
It micht hae been a mercat day
and him for sale.
Naebody stoppit tae niffer.

His life bluid cled his breast
wi a new reid semmit.
He’d hippens for deid claes.

Aifter the boombers cleck
and the sodgers traik thro the skau
there’s an auld air sterts up –
bubblin and greetin.

It’s a ballant mithers sing
on their hunkers i the stour
for a bairn deid.

They ken it by hert.

It’s the cauldest grue i the universe
yon skelloch.
It niver waukens the deid.

Noo Maunsie’s wis as guid a tongue
As ever psalm o’ Dauvid sung.
It fittit weel a godly mooth,
And said few wirds ’at wirna truth,
An’ never swöre by Guid or Deil
Excep’ whan kyunnens ate his kail…

—from “Auld Maunsie’s Crü” by B.R. Anderson (1861–1888), in Broken Lights: Poems & Reminiscences of the Late Basil Ramsay Anderson (1888) – republished in 2021 by Northus Shetland Classics

https://www.michaelwalmer.com/northus-shetland-classics/p/broken-lights-poems-and-reminiscences-of-basil-ramsay-anderson-introduced-by-robert-alan-jamieson

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

Noo Maunsie’s wis as guid a tongue
As ever psalm o’ Dauvid sung.
It fittit weel a godly mooth,
And said few wirds ’at wirna truth,
An’ never swöre by Guid or Deil
Excep’ whan kyunnens ate his kail.

Kinnen oan the green,
Baudron sleekit in the mist;
Sudden start awa.

#Scotstober #Kinnen #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

Love is all you need: Remembering The Kingis Quair

Alan Riach discusses The Kingis Quair – a poem attributed to King James I of Scots (1394–1437), & described by C.S. Lewis as “the first modern book of love”

https://www.thenational.scot/news/17372009.love-is-all-you-need-remembering-the-kings-quair/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #lovepoetry #medieval #Scots #Scotslanguage #15thcentury #Scotstober

Auld summer sunlicht
Screivit oan sae monie leaves;
Noo trees drap their quair.

#Scotstober #Quair #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

A peedie wee bird
Shuid flee aboot clair blue skies;
Naw gang ben the hoose!
#Scotstober #Peedie #Haiku #ScotsLanguage

Small bird in a wooden box with clear front

THE DOMINIE EFFECT
Schools & teachers in Scottish literature

📚 Sorley MacLean & Iain Crichton Smith
📚 Scots Language in the classroom
📚 George Friel & Muriel Spark
📚 Hugh Miller (1802–1856)
📚 Ross Sayers on writing for YA
📚 The Crime of Miss Jean Brodie

Image: “The Dominie”, William Stewart (1823–1906), Paisley Art Institute

3/4

https://www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2023/07/every-days-a-schuil-day/

#Scottish #literature #WorldTeachersDay #teaching #teachers #education #schools #Scots #Scotslanguage #YA #writing #Gaelic #Gaidhlig

A late-Victorian oil painting, “The Dominie”, by William Stewart (1823–1906). Oil on canvas, Paisley Art Institute Collection, held by Paisley Museum and Art Galleries. An elderly male schoolteacher, bald, with white side-whiskers, sits side-on at a well-worn wooden sloping desk. He is wearing a greenish-brown tweed jacket and a dark waistcoat over a collarless shirt with a loose necktie, and brown trousers. He is holding a small battered book open in his right hand, and looks out of the picture, at us, over the top of small oval glasses. Behind him, the corner of a map of Scotland can be seen hanging on a cracked plaster wall; beneath it three small blond-haired boys are misbehaving (one watches while the second writes something in chalk on the back of the third). In the lower left of the painting, a young girl, wearing a dark blue dress with a white pinafore on top, sits looking out at us over the top of another battered schoolbook which she is holding against her chest. All the children are barefoot.

Yince ah hed a client wanting tae sue a builder. The new flair movit like waves oan the sea. When the boards were liftit, turnt oot there wis onlie wan dwang tae haud the haill lot!

#Scotstober #dwang #ScotsLanguage

#Scotslanguage

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