Poetry Map

We all know poems about Scotland but can the shape and nature of Scotland be drawn entirely in poetry? StAnza has set itself the challenge to see if this is the case. Find out more about the project and how to submit your poem by clicking here, or browse the poems using the map. Latest poems are listed below.

Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 243: Easter Road

Saturday 12 December 2015, 06:09
The Easter Road Chronicle
 
Every shopkeeper is a philosopher
on the road that is Easter.
Every charity shop a witness
to the second hand moving.
Every cafe smoker
optimistically outside
in all weathers and traffic.
Every dog owner and their
carrier bags, though gifts
are often left on pavements.
Every day on the chewing gum-
speckled-tarmac the pigeons peck.
Gulls raid the bin-bags,
honk at the cars as faces old
or new move upstream,
downstream, cross-stream.
Every homeless person at home
outside of the supermarket.
Every hairdresser gazing
out of Wednesday windows.
Every police horse
watching the supporters
of invading tribes in their
clan colours.
Every bus stop
and take away coffee,
leading away.
Every day the same
play, with new dialogue.
 
 
Kevin Cadwallender

View our full map of Scotland in Poems as it grows »

For instructions on how to submit your own poems, click here

All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland  are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.

Categories: Poetry Map

Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 242: Bendochy

Monday 7 December 2015, 05:26

Bendochy

cold cold cold
the green man’s face blooming.

bloom of my own, this curse of the Celts:
the tiny red fissures at the surface, closer than
most, like a map of blood-red
wind-felled trees.
the ice wind sucks heat
from these threads, my face
feels like the blood is
being frothed out of my skin then
freezing, holding my features,
a grimace.

middle age abbey, medieval gaol,
Victorian barracks, ancient cross.
manacles on a standing stone:
age unknown, but still
a reminder, of something not
remembered

the wind off the river flows
right to this church, for Bendochy
parish, walls to keep out the
icewind and doubts, a shelter acute
when against savage nature

the green man still grins
the cursed Celt grimaces

Kieron Bacon

This poem first appeared in Wyrd Daze zine and online in linesoflandscape.wordpress.com

View our full map of Scotland in Poems as it grows »

For instructions on how to submit your own poems, click here

All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland  are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.

Categories: Poetry Map

Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 241: Gullane

Wednesday 11 November 2015, 09:25

Black wing rock

That day on the shore at Gullane,
a thousand black birds
were congregating on the Forth,
an elongating crease of feather and bone
moving as one in the milky sea,
rising forwards, drifting down,
thronging, mobbing,
as the hills of Fife went from gold
to black and we sat on the square rock,
the dog nesting in the sand,
watching the folding and unfolding of wings,
looking back, past the islands, the pilot boats,
the waiting tankers, as if seeing it all
for the first time.

Jane Aldous

View our full map of Scotland in Poems as it grows »

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All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland  are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.

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Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 240: Thurso

Monday 9 November 2015, 13:41

Thurso Station 1948

Dangling his legs over the platform
edge, waiting for nothing to happen,
he looks at me the way the dead do
except that he's me, watching himself
now. Someone shouts. Shunted carriages
he hasn't seen loom in. He rolls up
                  And away.

 

Robin Fulton Macpherson

View our full map of Scotland in Poems as it grows »

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All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland  are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.

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Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 239: Kilcreggan

Sunday 8 November 2015, 13:35

A Royal Pageant on the Clyde
The QE2 comes to the Clyde for the Last Time – 5 October 2008

A diamond day, as new October
Mocks the rains of submerged summer
The land and sea in Sunday best
Greet those who know as they head west

At the western end of Clyde
A sea-filled theatre resides
The hills providing backdrop green
The boards themselves the water’s sheen

The stage is set, a play to host
An audience gathers round the coast
Finding seats, their praise to render
To the leading lady’s splendour

A curtain call, then heading out
A tug pumps fountains high and proud
And in the channels now chaotic
The ferries stoutly brave the traffic

Vessels of all shapes and size
Bit players waiting curtain rise
Specks upon a washed out blue
All combine to fill the view

Senses tingle while we wait
The star herself the time dictates
To be here when she wants to be
And who are we to disagree?

Enter stage right – Her Majesty
Returning piece of history
Clyde built, coming once more home
Re-ascending to her throne.

Stately up the Firth she glides
Her fans, her subjects, mesmerised
Viewed with fondness and affection
For many, time for recollection.

Built here, then sent out to serve
In peace and war for forty years
Across the world, so many nations
Bent their knee in admiration.

An intermission till the night
A ten o’clock, to our delight
A royal firework display
Sees her off, along her way.

It is the time for valediction
In the darkness falls the curtain.
And in response to farewell calls
Her booming siren shakes the walls.

So QE2 now leaves these shores
That was for us the last encore
A day to stay in all our thoughts
Itself, an immortality of sorts.

Tony Bayliss

View our full map of Scotland in Poems as it grows »

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All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland  are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.

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Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 238: Brora

Sunday 8 November 2015, 12:18

Sky Above the Back Shore, Brora

Stunned by the unexpected northern August heat
we lay on dunes like heaps of stranded laundry.
My mother, swaddled by her children, and by theirs,
still pierced by the steel blade of my father’s passing,
stared without desire at the blank horizon.

Conversation dimmed: flat on our backs
we cast our eyes up to fair weather cumulus.
A radio played ‘Something in the Air’,
I tried to conjure up a future past this place, this time,
but drifted back, defeated by the sun, into an absence.

All of us were locked so tight inside that absence,
made more surreal and bitter by the summer radiance.
The North Sea glinted, fulmars wheeled,
beside the waterfall we listened to small finches sing,
but a door had slammed, its echo fading down an empty hall.

Ian McDonough

View our full map of Scotland in Poems as it grows »

For instructions on how to submit your own poems, click here

All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland  are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.

Categories: Poetry Map