Glasgow Ned's Guide To 20th Century Poets

Andrew Motion?
He's loco

Philip Larkin?
N’aubade

Sylvia Plath?
A pure gas, man

Seamus Heaney?
A jist don’t dig him

Jackie Kay?
No as black as she’s paintit

Edwin Morgan?
Whit planet is he oan?

Kathleen Jamie?
Wild!

Tom Gunn?
Am wi Goebbels

Songs That Didn't Quite Make The Album (I Wonder Why?)

Sympathy For The Grocer

See Marjorie Play

Stuck Inside of Mobile With Some Cheese and Onion Crisps

Big Yellow Transit

Fairytale of East Cheam

Happiness Is A Warm Bath

...you no doubt have your own...

small thoughts on a sunny day

spirits sometimes refuse to soar, but may be prepared to gently float

over time, the knife and fork have reached an accommodation

leaves do fall, but also often stumble, stutter or skitter along

good (and bad) things come along in all sorts of numbers, and sometimes not at all

books gather that dust may be approaching, but remain sanguine

the best thing is often just to think of the best thing

not sleeping a wink – surely that’s unlikely?

many things start this way

many things start this way
with ideas, plans etc
everything seems possible
many hurdles, ditches, cul-de-sacs
remain unseen
perhaps happily
if you were to write it all down
it might seem fantastical
things you did, and others,
those strange coming togethers
now seem like so much serendipity
you wonder how anything
involving hope, love or mystery
ever happened

and then the rain stopped

you emerge onto an endless field

happiness stretches behind you like a blue wave

you look ahead and see it in the distance

your shoes are heavy, your coat warm

memories of yesterday are beginning to come back

the window, the street outside, the rain

there was just you, the radio

the rain, and the street outside

it might have been that way for hours

you, the radio, the street outside, the rain

(might have been)

a word was reverberating in your head

a word you couldn’t grasp

it was something about categories of things

it may have been taxonomy, maybe not

you think it was to do with butterflies,

stamps or other collectible things,

possibly

then

the one o’clock pips went on the radio

you remember saying to yourself

must go for a walk tomorrow

and then the rain stopped

the people in sweden

what is it?

that sound, that thing

is it

something far away

water falling onto stones

voices whispering

is it something you don’t recognise

a scene from a film you’ve forgotten

a book you read somewhere, sometime

call people you know and ask them what it is

write to everyone in Sweden if that will help

perhaps nothing will

sometimes even the people in Sweden can’t help

paul might indicate a line of enquiry

although then again…

sadness might follow any action that you consider prudent

the specifics of love may escape you

the lure of the past may pull you under

synchronicity is not guaranteed, indeed may be unwelcome

the fruits of a life spent walking, talking and being you

may not lead to whatever conclusion you may have been thinking of

however, rule nothing in or out

it may all work out in the end

Silly Second Lines

These don't fit any known tune, they merely rhyme!

1
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
I wish I hadn't bothered being the Queen

2
It ain't necessarily so
That there's a hereafter, after we go

3
In the beginning was the word
Then sometime later, Douglas Hurd

4
In Christ there is no East or West
Nor mention of a thermal vest

Jean Anderson, My Jo (with apologies to Robert Burns)

Burns' original poem is John Anderson, my jo...jo in this context being an old Scottish word for companion. My poem is really nothing like the great man's but I nicked the first line, changed the gender and went on from there...

Jean Anderson, my jo
Mrs Brummel, my beau
love is easy, come and go
nip and tuck, ebb and flow
say goodbye and not hello
tell me that its isn't so
dance with me for one more show
heel-to-heel, toe-to-toe
be my friend and not my foe
whisper all the lies you know
speak of neither weal nor woe
say it soft and sing it low
and when the wildest winds do blow
and weeds within my garden grow
I'll give the nod to Life & Co
....and think of you

dream

you’re in a bed
that’s whitest white
you know not whether day or night
a voice is singing in your head
this is your bed

you’re in a room
you feel a chill
a rocking horse is standing still
there is no light to pierce the gloom
this is your room

you’re in a house
that’s tall and grey
where childhood seems so far away
it slips by quietly like a mouse
this is your house

you’re in a street
that’s long and wide
with tall green trees on either side
where neighbours, friends and ghosts all meet
this is your street

you’re in a town
it seems so small
can you read the writing on the wall?
the seasons come and go around
this is your town

you’re in a land
that seems quite strange
where the only iron rule is change
there’s no-one there to take your hand
this is your land

you’re in a world
you rub your eyes
its not one that you recognise
somewhere your freak-flag lies unfurled
this is your world

big stuff

"Our most grievous error is to think our incarnation some kind of cosmic privilege. We fall into time as a dead leaf into a river."
Don Paterson - The Book of Shadows

"The trick is to create a world from nothing."
John Burnside - Koi (From The Light Trap)

Things To Do Even If You Don't Live In Denver

Have you tried singing in the bathroom yet?
Drive the family round the bend
Something by Lou Reed or Wet Wet Wet
Is what I would recommend

Have you tried to climb a Munro so far?
It’s quite a challenge is that
You’ll feel 3000 feet taller than you are
(Wear good strong shoes and a hat)

If you haven’t written a poem by this time
Do so and I think you’ll find
Not only how life and reason can rhyme
But how closely they’re intertwined

How about skydiving out of a plane?
Step right out into the blue
If you fall for that, you must be insane
But maybe sanity’s just not for you

And have you considered the Deity?
Not doing so could seem a little odd
Should you a believer or agnostic be?
There's a question you might keep for God

juno

If you haven’t seen it yet, you have a very joyful experience ahead of you. Acute, acerbic, idiosyncratic and enigmatic, Juno – the film and the girl - is all of these and more. This wonderful film made me want to shout “Yes!” for Juno’s awkwardness, her individuality, her oddity. The exception to the rule about most American films – its intelligent, low-key, very funny and moving. It has been labelled an “issue” movie because teen pregnancy is the basis of the story. But that is, I think, a small part of a film which celebrates the weird and simple humanity of a sixteen year old who may be pregnant but is as yet uncorrupted by the world around her. She’s a worldy-wise ingénue, with a profoundly graceful attitude to the many quirks of that strange beast, the human race.

I got doubly lucky when I went to see the film. It was an afternoon showing and the large cinema was almost empty with individuals, couples and small groups scattered sparsely around the auditorium. At the final scene, when Juno and boyfriend are singing their lovely little duet, I glanced down to the front of the cinema and saw a group of about six or seven kids, about thirteen or fourteen years of age, waving their hands above their heads from side to side in unison with the song. It was a truly magical moment. The eternal hope and freedom of youth and the ability of music to engender a sense of joy in the world - all on a wet Friday in Glasgow.

Juno – its beautiful!

Night by Aleksander Blok

Nicht, causey, leerie, pothicar,
Aw where a dreich and donnert licht
Leeve for twinty-five year mair –
Naethin will chynge. Nane taks flicht.

Ay, ye can dee – re-stert it aw,
Aw thing turns roon like a peerie:
Nicht, and the canual’s cauld swaw,
Causey, pothicar and leerie.

Scots glossary

nicht – night
causey – street
leerie – lamp
dreich – dreary
donnert - dull
pothicar – apothecary
swaw – wave

This is a translation into a synthetic Scots by Edwin Morgan. A further translation into Englsih prose might be something like:

Night, street, lamp, apothecary
All with a dreary and dull light.
Live for twenty-five years or more –
Nothing will change, nothing take flight.

Yes, you can die, restart it all,
Everything turning round like a spinning top,
Night, and the canal’s cold wave,
Street, apothecary and lamp.

Aleksander Blok : 20th century Russian Poet

Edwin Morgan : Scottish poet – 1920 - present

Found Stuff

Early Morning Fog

Britten

This CD of choral works by Britten is superb. Naxos may be seen as a "cheap" label, but the singing, the playing and the production here are all wonderful.

in Catterline (for Joan Eardley)

The cottage row sits
squat, snubbing the north east
wind; here is all there
is - the caw of gulls,
long days, low cloud
and the wash of it.
In the fields, time waits;
row of stone, row of barley,
lines that stretch a solstice
to infinity. By low water
your breath is still
and the sweep of waves far out
is rumour of something
breaking; the boom
of surf and bones
that write their names in fathoms.
A living that moved you
to edges and flat landscapes,
your eyes fixed on a movement,
cloud to rainbow, city
to sea. The daub of blue,
yellow, black, a gash
of summer light in that darkness.

The Road To Heaven

A lot of the road to heaven has to be taken at thirty miles an hour.

Evelyn Underhill : The Fruits of the Spirit