Liz Lochhead Poems
|1.||My Rival's House||8/16/2016|
|2.||A Glasgow nonsense rhyme for Molly||8/16/2016|
|3.||From a Mouse||8/16/2016|
|4.||For the Centenary of The Scotch Whisky Association||8/16/2016|
|6.||For my Grandmother Knitting||8/16/2016|
|9.||Photograph, Art Student, Female, Working Class||8/16/2016|
|10.||In the Mid-Midwinter||8/16/2016|
|12.||Scotland to Queensland, Glasgow to Gold Coast||8/16/2016|
|15.||Some Old Photographs||8/16/2016|
|16.||Poets need not||8/16/2016|
|17.||View of Scotland/Love Poem||8/16/2016|
|18.||Trouble is not my middle name||8/16/2016|
|19.||Hell for Poets||8/16/2016|
Poets need not
the poet's head
should be innocent of the leaves of the sweet bay tree,
twisted. All honour goes to poetry.
And poets need no laurels. Why be lauded
for the love of trying to nail the disembodied
image with that one plain word to make it palpable;
for listening in to silence for the rhythm capable
of carrying the thought that's not thought yet?
The pursuit's its own reward. So you have to let
the poem come to voice by footering
late in the dark at home, by muttering
syllables of scribbled lines - or what might
be lines, eventually, if ...
Hell for Poets
It's Hell for the poet arriving for the gig
Off the five thirty three to meet the organiser
Who claps her in a car that reeks enough of dog to make her gag,
Tells her he's looked at her work but he was none the wiser.
Call him old fashioned, but in the 'little mag
He edits for his sins' stuff rhymes - oh, he's no sympathiser
With this modern stuff! Is it prose? What is it?
Perhaps the poet can enlighten him this visit?