Impossible Gifties (3 Poems In Scots) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Impossible Gifties (3 Poems In Scots)

Rating: 4.0


1.The Dragon
In a dark neuk o Embro toun
A thochtie aff the Canongate
A dragon's egg, jade green an roon
Hatched oot a thoosan years ower late

The craitur hodged an raxxed its wings
Syne kittled up an set its mind
Tae scoor the cassies, wynds an stairs
In search o ithers o its kind

Tae Embro castle first it flew
lnbye St Margaret's chapel bouer
Caunles an sancts in peintit glaiss
War aa that held the dragon's glower

It hirplit ower the castle hill
An dowpit bi the witches' well
The warlocks, knichts an ghaists war gaen
Nae hint o cantrip, imp nor spell

Bi Brodie's Close, St Giles' kirk
Traffic an towrist hashed on by
The Street o Sorras, tae, wis teem
0 aa bit History's daith-cry

It lowped tae Mary's palace syne
Thinkin it auld eneuch tae be
A bield for fabled, mythic breets
Bit nocht wis there bit statuary

The Warld's Eyn. The dragon stopped
Deid in its tracks an drappit doon
It wis inveesible tae aa
The waukers in the modern toun

A steer ower at the Netherbow
Gart the young dragon lift its een
It pressed its snoot agin the peens
An catched the glamo'rie o yestreen

lntae a thoosan sangs an tales
It stepped. They bad the dragon bide
For fit's a warld withoot the fey?
As wae's a groom wioot his bride!


2.In ma Uncle's Cornpark
In ma uncle's cornpark fin the hairst wis stooked
I hid in a shaif, a shaif fu o fuspers an mysteries
Wi a craa as ma ain familiar

The sun daunced ben the cornflooers
As I cocked on my stibble throne

Whyles, a moosie squeaked, kennin me
A princess in borraed claes
Wyvers spun tales o knichts an hidden treisur

An auld tattie bogle, leanin ower the dyke
Keckled deep in its thrapple like a warlock.


3.Cap and Gloves
I wad gie a cloak o the wud bee's fur
The wings frae a jenny wren
Tae shakk the mools frae the yirdy kist
That's happen the neist step ben

I wad sow the grun wi the norlan stars
Reap waves far the burnies shift
Gin I cud boo at the moo o daith
Thon dark kist lid tae lift

For jist ae teet at fit's lyin there
Ayont the warld's sairs
I'd rype the reid frae the robin's breist
Beard cats in their Heilan lairs

Thon kist... is't stappit wi kith an kin
An the joy at the eyn o wytin?
Or is it teem... an the mools a swick
An daith bit a new braith kythin?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success