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. 272: Renfrewshire

Sunday 31 July 2016, 11:44
Benediction 
 
From Caplaw Dam –
Old Patrick Water 
 
ravens down the Braes.
Brakes in sodden meadows
 
by Leitchland Farm
then stumbles onwards.
 
Pushing wooden wheels
in the dream world
 
where carpet factory thrived and
slab boys became old hands.
 
Slides under the road away 
from Stoddards and skirts
 
green reedy pond. Rushes 
loudly now. A plastic pail
 
slaloms as I watch and then
wings off along a touch-line.
 
Hurdles the sticks through 
secret tree-lined tunnels, 
 
plashing ritual drops of burn 
on trailing branches. And
 
then, when service ends, 
heads for the Black Cart.
 
Pete Stuart

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

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Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 271: Kilmacolm

Sunday 24 July 2016, 19:34
15 and a jar of instant
 
There’ll be no thirteens on this estate
so here’s a baker’s dozen, plus one, plus one:
lawn proud and redchip, horseshoe and geraniums.
 
We are talking Great Universal,
Avon and denier.
This is yoghurt, vinyl,
the age of the wagon prams.
 
(A third boy’s five fivestones,
sill-high on the outside
glimpse a jar of instant –
fall back, smack
into his hand,
the winning catch.)
 
There’ll be no thirteens on this estate,
so here’s a baker’s dozen – plus one,
plus one.
 
Richard Price
 

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. 270: Corryvreckan

Thursday 21 July 2016, 19:10
Corryvreckan
 
An oilskinned roughneck eyed us up
and promised us the sober thrills
of speed and boiling tides and swells.
His jet-boat whipped like light across
the waveless sound. Aboard, we gripped
each other, scared the stiffish breeze
might prise us from our open seats
and push us down to drown us in the deep.
A spew of fulmars streaked across our wake,
familiars of the promised demon of the straits.
 
The engines cut, we drifted out
between the tense black knuckles
of the islands, both expecting to be wowed
by swirling eddies, whitened lips of water
round a whirlpool, bottomless,
the gulping of a monster’s throat,
draining down then fiercely bubbling up.
Instead, a sheet of troubled glass,
the serpent-hissing of the ebbing tide
and other inconclusive signs of Hell.
 
The ocean chose today to hide its malice,
not perform its canny tricks to order,
staying calm when every instinct was to rage.
Then, later on, your lapping sighs, your
sea-grey eyes half closed against
the coming storm, the spinning sky,
the water filling up the space between us,
then, the swirling gurgle of the plug,
the water draining from the bath.
We shiver, like this warmth is all we have.
 
Andy Jackson

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Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 269: Duns

Wednesday 20 July 2016, 15:01

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Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 268: St Andrews

Friday 15 July 2016, 12:00
from Apocrypha (II)
 
The Apocalypse of Judas,
chapter thirteen, verse
something or other:
 
as cows feed on clover,
crows on earthworms,
so men desire digestive charms.
 
It is beauty sustains us . . .
lean cuts from the Cross,
Italian shoes.
 
Therefore avoid St Andrews,
its burnt crust of a castle,
golf ball truffles,
 
the West Sands
a mouth-watering prospect for the damned.
 
A.B. Jackson
from 'The Wilderness Party' (Bloodaxe Books, 2015)

 

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. 267: Millport

Thursday 14 July 2016, 20:31
Old Millie
 
I smile when I see the sea it feels like home.
 
Millie was so inviting she showed me history and took me on an enchanting tour.
 
There was no guide just sweet wee Millie quietly whispering and uncovering lots of treasure, to those who would listen, to those who would enable her Beauty to be seen.
 
There was a wee story that the street behind the Newton bar lay an enchanted wall, legend has it that when the moon was full the wall would open to reveal a secret garden. 
 
There's a crocodile shaped rock treasured among new comers and old comers.
 
Now mr croc is subject to the new selfie or two but before it would just be the old disposable camera point and snap.
 
Millie is full of surprises in every little nook and cranny there is something for everyone.
 
I've had mint ice cream that tasted just like toothpaste don't knock it though until you've tried it.
 
There's rock pools with the odd pearl if your lucky.
 
Don't get jealous we have experienced the odd giant jellyfish or two washed up for a stinging session on the beach.
 
There's also the butcher they do good picnic items for a good beach barbie most people prefer Kames Bay but the other beaches are equally good. 
 
In the end I have to leave so I take a deep breath and whisper........ Thank you Millie. 
 
Lindsay Kinloch

 

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