25+ Scots Poems (Death Of A Tadpole) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1. In the Toun
Naebody hears the trees spikk in the toun
Dae they murn the loss o their branches
Hacked an aixed tae conform tae regulations?
Fur aathin maun gie wye tae the will o man
Naebody hears the cheep o the teenie spurgie
Abune the Beep-Beep-Beep o angered horns

The Green Man his the pouer tae stop the traffic
Bit canna stop the scurries in mid flicht

In the toun the lawns are shaved like skin heids
Fowk spen oors drillin weel-trimmed borders
Posies o flooers punched in like sodjers' buttons

Slugs an mowdies are sent tae Hecklebirnie
Pesticides gar mony a gorblie grue

The burnies beeriet langsyne aneth the tarmac
Hinna enjoyed the sunsheen fur decades

Man biggs a desolation, caas it progress
Calgacus spakk siclike, an he wis richt

2.Yowe in Shadda
A yowe stauns in its ain shadda
Midas has transmogrifeed the breem

The sun dunts like a pestle
On the quern o the warld

A bummer in a coat o saffron yalla
Tae stap its hairy pooches veesits a foxglove,

As aye, I'm drawn tae watter
Its glents an glisks, its glimmers
The soun as it gluggers doon the burnie's thrapple

Yestreen's thunnerplump still bedaizzles the ferns
The loch's sae clear ye see its verra reets

A lammie gies its mither the hee-haw
Blate birdies cheep frae hidden haps o leaves

A ram stauns pechin, plottin in the heat
Nettle an midgie wyve their nesty nips
Smaa entry fee fur Eden's growthy glen


3. Five Scots Owersetts of Buddhist PoemsKobayashi Issa (1736-1827) : Frae ‘The Spring o Ma Life'

Veesitin ma Dother's Mools on July 25th, a month eftir her daith bi smaapox
The reid flooer
Ye aywis socht tae pu
Noo this Autumn win


Soin (1604-1682)
Sattlin, fite dew
Disnae girn
Ilkie drap, its hame

‘Oor physogs winna laist like jade. Life's mair like cloud' Kuan Hsui (832-912) '



Li Po: Auld Stoor (701-762)
We live oor lives as gangrels
Until deid, at the hinnereyn, we cam hame

Ae faist trip atween Heiven an the Yird
Syne the stoor o a thoosan generations

The meen bawd mells elixirs fur naethin
The Tree o Lang Life is kinnlin

Deid, oor fite beens lie seelent
Fin pines raxx forrit tae Spring

Myndin, I sigh; luikin aheid,
I sigh aince mair
This life is haar. Fit fame? Fit glory?


Tu Fu (712-770) I staun Alane
A falcon flichters at the eyn o the lift
Twa scurries waucht slaw up the burn

Easy catched while they ride the win
They devaul an raxx sae peaceful
Dyew is wechtyu on the girse aneth
The wyver's wab is wytin

Heiven's wyes takk in the human
Amang a thoosan waers, I staun alane


Liu Tsung-Yuan (773-819) : Snawy Burn
Birdies hae vanished
Frae a thoosan bens
On a thoosan trails
Nae a single human merk

A wee boat
A bamboo hat an plaidie
The auld chiel alane
Fishin the snawy burn

4. Veesitor
The anely kent things thonner, gairden flooers
The fowk war neither kith nor kin nor neebors

Tea wis a barfit wauk ower brukken glaiss
Like sclimmin Everest in pumps, or swallaein fire

Some things are like childbirth, ye ken they'll pass
An leavin wis the bit I likit best


5. Steens
Steen eftir steen I flang in burns an puils
Takkin delicht in garrin them daunce an droon

Bit steens, tho unseen, dinna disappear
Like ill-vrocht thochts an warks they bigg a cairn

Unner the waves, they wyte tae rise an roar
The coorsenesses ye thocht ye'd left ahin

6. Ye Readin this Be Ready: Scots owersett of a poem bi William Stafford
Stertin here, fit dae ye wint tae myne?
Foo sunlicht creeps alang a sheenin fleer?
Fit guff o a auld wud lingers, fit saftened
Soun frae ootbye fulls the air?

Will ye iver bring a better giftie tae the warld
Than breathin respeck that ye cairry
Fariver ye gyang richt noo? Are ye wytin
Fur time tae shaw ye some better thochts?

Fin ye birl aroon, stertin here, takk this
New glisk that ye fand; cairry intae the gloamin
Aa that ye wint frae this day. This fyle ye spent
Readin or hearin this, keep it foraye-

Fit can onybody gie ye greater than noo,
Stertin here, richt in this chaumer, fin ye birl roon?


7. The Laneliness O Wee Yetts: June.: Scots owersett o a poem bi Ananda (Stephen Parr)

Young beech leaves, wattery ley fogg
Like friens cryin us frae the neist glen
Forcey, wikk bi wikk in a deeper voice
Fu o licht an shadda like a saft
Myndin o fit's already oors

Yer een unsteeked bi loss
Hauns raxx oot tae a neebor
Wee gifties ye micht think them
Nae wirth a strae
Bit the cheenge they bring is eynless


8. Granmither's Hauns
Her hauns war creashie an strang
Could kill or gralloch a hen rale gleg an smert
Defeather it an birl on a saxpence
Tae gentle a reid chikk or dicht a tear awa

Like her elastic-wymed skirts
The hauns could wax or wane, be thick or thinner
Her waddin ring sunk deep doon in the flesh
Her braw betrothal ring, Victorian hairts in rubies
Emeralds, diamonds, hauf-happit bi skin

Her fingers flashed like fire ben needlewirk
Loopin the silken threids in lacey cheerbacks

Thon hauns aince ran a reid-hett poker
Doon ma taiglet hair, makkin the split eyns hale

Thon hauns dabbed fuskey ontae cotton oo
Fur teethache. They peeled aipples fur Halloween
They vrocht braa heirlooms fur her grandothers
Fa'd hae nae eese fur cheerbacks, hankies, rinners

Naebody's hauns are multi-complex noo
Naebody darns or warssles ower wyvin
Some hyne-aff Asian bairnie hunkers in the dark
Shooin chaip claes fur us tae haive awa


9. Rattens
Hae the guff o pish aroon their clammy tails
Hae sherp gleg een that watch fur the main chaunce
Hae seelence in their meevements tae keep them safe
Hae the pouer tae be lued or loathed bi ither craiturs
Hae wymes like scaffies' bins tae snap up orrals
Hae fower cauld paas an lugs bit a warm hairt
Hae teeth that bite throw cables, as thick's yer airm
An fit dae ye say tae thon, Mr Cheshire Cat?


10; Fin Daith Drives Up
Fin Daith drives up an the passenger seat is wytin
I'll leave ahin baked tatties an poetry
I'll leave ahin ma flesh an bluid, fledged littlins
I'll leave the Linn o Muick tae Posterity

I'll leave ahin Art Galleries an Museums
Thon windaes ontae ither warlds, I lue
I'll leave ahin ma claes fur a dossers' midden
I'll wheech awa like rikk gaun up the flue


11.Aathin Wytes fur the Sun
Aathin wytes fur the sun
It briers abeen the steadin
Flooers open their faces tae greet the heat

Hyne aff in a Syrian toun
A mither pykes ower a raw o bluidy corpses
Swypes awa the flees
Luikin fur her bairnie, three days deid


12. Keepsakes frae ma Faither
He gaed me thyme frae tap o Bheinn a' Bhuird
He gaed me sunblinks passin ower Glen Gairn
He gaed me lanely linns an liltin lochans
He gaed me sing-sang Doric as a bairn

He gart me paiddle barfit in the burns
He gart me wyle fite heather frae the muir
He gart me sweem in Cluny's jeelin puils
He gart me watch the passin o the deer

He tuik me far the ghaists o sheilins maen
He tuik me far the erne flees heich an braa
He tuik me far the Finzean salmon lowp
He tuik me far dog roses bloom an faa

He bides inbye ma heid ahin each thocht
He lowps inbye ma hairt fin birdies cheep
He wis each compass pynt in ma bairnhood
A quaet cheil, still watters than ran deep


13. Rowan, Balquhidder Glen
Seed an saplin, win an yird
Ringed in siller like a gird
Reet an leaf, sunlicht an lift
She's a bield far shaddas shift

In June, she's decked in bridal floors
Spirkit roon wi skinklin shooers
Autumn sees her berries reid
As draps o Heilan caterans' bluid

Lucky rowan, haud awa
Warlocks coorse frae hoose an haa
Free mishanters frae a herm
Rowan, wi yer eildritch cherm


14. Lossin Things
Some fowk are aywis lossin things
Last Setterday, I tint ma heid
I think I left it dowpit doon on the bus
Readin the sklaik in the Metro
(It's a terrible heid fur sklaik)

Did I cowp it inno the recyclin
Wi the neep parins?

Is it furlin roon the wash tub
Wi the wikk's clarty drawers an fooshty hose?

Mebbe it's chitterin at the foun
O an Asda fridge, amangst the jeeled fish fingers…

Mebbe it's dookin in the Dee wi the troots
Mebbe it jist forget an left ma corp at wirk

I'm thinkin aboot haein ma heid screwed on
Tae jink sic tricky ongauns

15. The Scythe
The win that passes throw the glen
I canna gar it bide
Nor can I chuse frae mangst the lave
The cuttie wren's smaa bride

The larick showds tae its ain lilt
The shaddas raxx an faa
Nae haun o mine can steer their weird
Nor peint the wattergaw

Be't foul or fair, my will means nocht
Each day maun please itsel
Nae man can bid Death heist his scythe
He's nae tae buy nor sell.

16. Three Owersetts in Scots of Poems by Miroslav Holub


Casualty
They bring us staived in fingers
Sain it pheesician
They bring brunt oot een
Huntit hoolets o hairts
They bring us a hunner fite corpses
A hunner reid corpses
A hunner blaik bodies
Sain it pheesician
On the ashets o ambulances they bring
The wudness o bluid
The skirl o flesh
The seelence o birslin
Sain it pheesician
An whyle we're shewin
Inch efter inch
Nicht efter nicht
Nerve tae nerve
Muscle tae muscle
Een tae sicht
They bring in
Even langer dirks
Even mair din-raisin bombs
Even mair winnerfu winnins
Gypes


The Yett
Ging an unsteek the yett
Mebbe ootbye there's
A tree, or a wid
Or a gairden
Or an eildritch toon

Ging an unsteek the yett
Mebbe a tyke's raikin
Mebbe ye'll see a physog
Or an ee
Or the pictur
O a pictur
Ging an unsteek the yett
Gin there's haar
It'll clear

Ging an unsteek the yett
Even tho there's anely
The teem win
Even gin
Naethin is thonner
Ging an unsteek the yett

At least
There'll be
A draught


Napoleon
Bairns, fan wis
Napoleon Bonaparte born?
Speirs the dominie

A thoosan years syne, the bairns repon
A hunner years syne, the bairns repon
The hinmaist year the bairns repon
Naebody kens

Bairns, fit did
Napoleon Bonaparte dae?
Speirs the dominie

Won a war, the bairns repon
Tint a war, the bairns repon
Naebody kens

Oor butcher hid a dug
Caad Napoleon
Sez Frankie
The butcher eesed tae threwsh him an the dug deed
O hunger
A year back

An aa the bairns are hairt sair noo
Fur Napoleon


17. Satan's Den
Dinna wauk bi Satan's Den, unless yer nerves are strang
For in the mirk o Satan's Den, the witchy-fowk were thrang

Peely-wallies bide awa…it takks a cheil o fooshian
Tae wanner by the Peel Bog, an airt o daith an pooshun
Here ye micht tryst wi deid Macbeth…his ghaist, they say, wauks licht
Bide awa frae Satan's Den, fin shaddas claim the nicht

18. A Small Aside
Surely thon isnae Sandy, nurse?
He eesed tae be sae strang
Five meenits! Dinna weary him!
He winna be here lang


19. A Heeze o Cheepers
It's braw tae be at the Loch o Strathbeg
Wi black oxee, horse gowk, scurrie
Moss drummer, pickternie an rainy bird
Puir willie, saw neb an chaikie

Wad ye like a list o Scottish birds?
A bitterie, a coldie, a crannie
A flirty fleer an a kirriemew
A witchag an Lang Sannie?

D'ye like the names o oor feathered friens?
A muckle sniperock an a greenie
A skeelan guiss an a watter erne
A fusslin dyeuk an a lintie

Dae ye lue tae watch them raxx their wings?
Black coley-heid, bog gled, corbie
Willie-weet-feet an pink fittit guiss
Pickeneyarr, pleep an stiltie

Takk tent o thon dookin an divin birds
Willie-beeb, willie-buits, an shortie
San-leverock, tang-whaup, chokit buit
Boltielairig, gled an peesie

Up in the lift, they skreich an skirl
The whaup an the yalla yeitie
The dueller guiss an the ember guiss
The leverock, the stock dyeuk, the spurgie

The muckle widpecker's bin spied nearhaun
Wi sanderlins, tits an whoopers
Bit try as I micht, I cudnae fin
Scots wirds for thon birdie neebors


20. Teemin Granny's Gizunder
It wis a Wednesday. A mince an tatties day,
the day I discovered I hid the pouer o flicht

Echt year auld I wis rinnin hame frae skweel, doonhill, like a bawd
Takkin lang lowps, fin o a suddenty
Ae lowp yarked me heich intae the air
An I wheeched, like a muckle crescendo,
A skirp o gossamer, omnipotent's an angel
A Japanee lantern, a space-man
Like Pegasus, a Scottish marvel
The original fleein qune

Fin I duntit doon tae the grun,
I touched ma shooders. Nae wings as yet war brierin
Bit this wis a secret ower gran tae keep

Breengin ben the lobby, braithless wi pride,
Ma news scaled oot, ma winnerfu, mind-blawin secret
‘Ma! I can flee! I can flee! '

Humfed ower the sink parin tatties
A tabby, smuchterin in the aisse tray
Ma niver turned a hair.

‘Thon's braw, quine.
Could ye teem yer granny's gazunder? '


21. The Deil an his Prize
As I cam in bi Bind Close
An roon bi Whittle Hole
I sweir I saw Auld Nick hissel
Ride by, tae catch a soul

He didna stop at Whelp's Rigg
Flesh Beck or Barbon Fell
Tae Netherhaa he gaed at last
Tae claim a corp for Hell

Then up he yarked his sheltie's heid
Tae Kirby Muir they sped
Ower Cat's Hole an High Biggin
An eildritch daunce they led
The corp wi chitterin teeth cried oot
Bi Black Bull an Fell Gate
‘Oh Lord hae mercy. Set me free! '
Bit syne raise up Lang Thwaite

An ower the wastes o Westmorlan
He skirls yet frae fricht
The corp the Deevil reived awa
Frae Netherhaa, thon nicht


22. The Drookit Doocot
Did ye hear o the drookit doocot
Far the drookit doos perch, dreepin?
Sic a scunner's a drookit doocot
Tae be rained on fin yer sleepin!

The doos frae the drookit doocot
Aa hae arthriticky wings
An rheumaticky dowps wi sittin
Far the draughts ben the doocot finggs


23. A Cherm tae Sain the Dowie
Ivy, snaaberry, bluebell, heather
Shrubs, a bield agin the weather
Rhododendron, laurel, comfrey
Celandines…the hale clanjamfrey

Add camellia, peach an ploom
Fern an meadow girse at noon
They've a magic o their ain
Wi magnolia. Beltane's rain
Azaleas, rasps, a swatch o sauch
Fig, aik, larick, near eneuch

Bind them aa wi Beltane spell
Lat them sattle, merk them weel
Sic neebors, mirled, will cure yer waes
The sainin pouer o Beltane days


24. Domestic Scene
Crackle an spit, the lowe up the lum
The maister snores in a cosie seat

Clickey-clack, the mistress wyves
Her worsit. A dram, an aa's complete.

25. The Last Will &Testament of the Inchbare Kelpie, Potarch

I leave ma mane tae hap the heid
O some puir baldie craitur
Tae ony feartie, blate-like quine
I leave ma eildritch natur

I leave ma hooves o guid Scots pearl
Tae grace some brukken cuddy
Sae it may kick its heels wi virr
An growe baith strang an sturdy

I leave ma tailie tae the kirk
Tae the great Moderator
Sae he can wyve it at the Deil
An fleg aff thon man-hater

I leave ma tongue sae eloquent
Tae the first bard that wints it
I'd leave ma verra hairt as weel
Bit losh, langsyne I tint it

I leave ma een, sae derk an broon
Tae gar a blin man see
An aa o this, I maun confess
Sae ma misdeeds sae slee
Can be owerluikit fin fowk screive
The history o the Dee