Scottish Interest poems

Auchmithie road

 

We all live on the edge
But some of us live
More on the edge than others

The road goes straight
Until it bends
And home just waits
There at the end

The sky's the picture
We watch below
The sea sees more
The rocks just know

We think and look
We tire and sleep
The waves still move
The path's still steep

Life seems different
In this place up high
Living by the sea
Living by the sky

And the road is straight
Until it bends
There's beauty there
Right at the end

 

 

 

 

A visit to the William Lamb Studio, Montrose

 

Everyone is always fishing
And the wind so often blowing
Bits of some of life are missing
If not fishing then they're sowing
Wood is twirled and softly curving
Brass is firm and treacly brown
Faces, bodies, looking, learning
Hands of Lamb, so right, so sound

 

  

 

 

Looking up in Montrose

 

Here the sky has every blue
Cornflower, indigo, violet too
Every grey and pink and white
A different black for every night
What else on earth can you possibly need
With so much choice above your heid?

 

Michael Marra's Visit to the Links Hotel (Montrose)

It really doesn't have to be all about hell

I've seen the light and it came from Dundee

Via Michael Marra to the Links Hotel

Was it from heaven to us that he fell?

Soulful and funny and bright as can be

It really doesn't have to be all about hell

He brings quite a singing voice with him as well

Maybe from the bottom of the deep blue sea

He creaks, does Michael Marra, at the Links Hotel

The audience and he just somehow gel

There's never any plugging of the latest dvd

It really doesn't have to be all about sell

When Michael Marra plays the score you can foretell

Happy warm hearts and faces worry-free

Adored is Michael Marra, at the Links Hotel

So up on the deck and ring the loudest bell

Tell it how it is, we love him endlessly

It really must be all about the spell

He weaves, does Michael Marra, at the Links Hotel

 

My man

 

My man
They say here
Like the Germans
Mein Mann
He is great
My man
How would they say it?
Wunderbar
He works
He is warm
Sehr warm
Like a heater
He remembers
That's a tricky one
Er erinnert sich an
Bloody hell
I can remember it
Ich kann

 

All poems by Rachel Fox (some time after 1997)