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Posts Tagged ‘100 Poems’

100 Poets: The Full List

In poetry on March 4, 2009 at 10:16 pm

100 Poems are here!

No. 1:Betwixt by Elaine Webster
No. 2: Lonely City by Jim Murdoch
No. 3: Mellis, Victoria Street by Vivien Jones
No. 4: To Edinburgh by Russell Jones
No. 5: Crags by Dave Coates
No. 6: Stopping by Stefanie Tan
No. 7: MacAdam’s Inventory O A Tourist Trap by Andrew Philip
No. 8: And Nothing Worth Remembering by Florian Raith
No. 9: The Piteous Pine by Florian Raith
No. 10: The Forgotten Orchard of Craiglockhart by Jonathan Memel
No. 11: The Guid Room by Angela Blacklock-Brown
No. 12: Tollcross by Dilys Rose
No. 13: Tarvit Street, 2am by Dilys Rose
No. 14: Edinburgh Summer by Norman Bissett
No. 15: The Fringe by Miha Pintaric
No. 16: Going Home by Aiko Harman
No. 17: Between Lauriston Gardens and Lauriston Park by Aiko Harman
No. 18: Union Canal by Vicki Allardice
No. 19: Cafe Life Slice by Jean Atkin
No. 20: At Greyfriars Bobby’s Pub by Ken Pobo
No. 21: It by Brian McCabe
No. 22: Buddha by Brian McCabe
No. 23: Great Junkie Street Aye by JL Williams
No. 24: Edinburgh Haiku by Alan Gay
No. 25: First Aid in the Botanic Gardens by Alan Gay
No. 26: Niddrie by Claire Askew
No. 27: The Number 31 bus taken from Lasswade by Nicholas Goodrick
No. 28: Animal Haven by Juliet M Wilson
No. 29: The Business of Ravens by Roxanne Paris
No. 30: The Septuagenarian and the Quartermile by Roxanne Paris
No. 31: Corstorphine, Midnight by Rob A Mackenzie
No. 32: Lady Edinburgh by Tatjana Pfennig
No. 33: Rebels of this timeless town by Niki Ανδρικοπούλου
No. 34: View over Nicolson Street by Benjamin Dahlbeck
No. 35: Portobello by Morgan Downie
No. 36: Scene by Morgan Downie
No. 37: Anonymous by Dan Mussett
No. 38: From Saturday to Monday by Jason Monios
No. 39: Happy Birthday Hole by Jason Monios
No. 40: Morningside by Andrew C Fergusson
No. 41: Newington, EH9 by Andrew C Fergusson
No. 42: Gallows-birds and Graveyards by Hayley Shields
No. 43: January by Hayley Shields
No. 44: Southside II & III by Lauren Pope
No. 45: Perfume by Magnus Huntly-Grant
No. 46: His Side O The Story (Forthview Primary) by Simon Jackson
No. 47: Landlocked in the Port of Leith by Simon Jackson
No. 48: Postcode by Becca Hotchen
No. 49: An Edinburgh Invitation by Sue Armstrong
No. 50: Festive, All by Greg Whelan
No. 51: After the last tattoo by Christie Williamson
No. 52: Calton Hill by Antonia Leslie
No. 53: Ardmillan Lullaby by Mary Grundy
No. 54: 33 by Jonny Stockford
No. 55: Newington Road by Jonny Stockford
No. 56: Currie by Dorothy Baird
No. 57: Broken by Robyn Archer
No. 58: Transformation by Christine de Luca
No. 59: Edinburgh Volte-Face by Christine de Luca
No. 60: Telepathy by Tom Bristow
No. 61: Ministry of Memory by Tom Bristow
No. 62: Dùn Éideanns by Martin Mac an t-Saoir
No. 63: Imlach by Andrew Greig
No. 64: Scotland by Andrew Greig
No. 65: The Hanging Stanes by Sam Meekings
No. 66: To The Man Sleeping on Nicolson Square by Ellie Blow
No. 67: Conspiracy of Buses by Jane McKie
No. 68: La Plage by Jane McKie
No. 69: Broughton Street by Jess Winch
No. 70: The Castle by Mairi Sharratt
No. 71: Lunchtime in Leith by Martin Raymond
No. 72: How does a bookies have a sale anyway? by Chris Lindores
No. 73: The Pubic Triangle by Chris Lindores
No. 74: Walls by Fiona Morrison
No. 75: Where it lies by Struan Robertson
No. 76: The River At Cramond by Aileen Ballantyne
No. 77: John Knox’s Grave by Aileen Ballantyne
No. 78: Cables by Kate Charles
No. 79: Mary King’s Close by Aileen Lobban
No. 80: Edin Unfurling by Gemma White
No. 81: The Windy City by Kat Maher
No. 82: Tradesmen Visit by Finlay Gall
No. 83: Waking up with Edinburgh by Helle Häng
No. 84: Jawbone Walk by Julia Sanchez
No. 85: Circus Lane by Ivan Landers
No. 86: Sweet Sandy by McGuire
No. 87: Scarlet by Roddy Lumsden
No. 88: On an Old Scots Dictionary by Robby Lumsden
No. 89: The Summer of EH26 by Anita John
No. 90: After the Festival by Anita John
No. 91: A Recipe for Whisky by Ron Butlin
No. 92: A Lifetime by Ron Butlin
No. 93: A Winter Walk Along Lauriston Place by Lara Barbier
No. 94: Aig Dachaidh/At Home by Aonghas Macneacail
No. 95: Dead Plastic Crow by Aonghas Macneacail
No. 96: Princes Street by Alan Gillis
No. 97: Class by Irene Brown
No. 98: Same place, different view by Anna Dickie
No. 99: Overflow by Priscilla Chueng-Nainby
No. 100: Detained by Struan Robertson

How many have you read?

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Detained by Struan Robertson

In 100 Poems, poetry on March 4, 2009 at 12:07 pm

Title: Detained
Author: Struan Robertson
Number: 100/100
Allocated postcode: EH8

Detained

Standing downstairs in the cells
at St. Leonards Police Station,
I turn and watch my father’s profile,
whiskied head held high
as he argues with our captors –
his chin jutting, his arms
the stubborn folded arms of a child.

I wonder, mentally comparing behaviour
and baby-photos, how similar we are,
and remember that the cells we share
are not just those we share tonight.

But later, as he preaches at me
through his single-malt smog,
I forget our blue eyes and cheekbones
as our cells forget their domestic bond
in handcuffs, half-bottles and nights like these.

Overflow by Priscilla Chueng-Nainby

In 100 Poems, poetry on March 4, 2009 at 12:07 pm

Title: Overflow
Author: Priscilla Chueng-Nainby
Number: 99/100
Allocated postcode: EH9

Overflow

leave it on the window sill
this half emptied cup of Rooibos

Belfast sink choker full
hot tap’s running slow
Fairy liquid’s finishing
into overflow

leave it on this window sill
let it air into stain
stay and wait and see

on the right to Arthur Seat
twinkling stars budding on bare branches
on the left to the Castle
hot lemons scenting into thin air

at the centre lies the Meadows
where they coalesced into a heavenly scroll
as bubbles escalating into miracles

and now
and many nights to come
a Rooibos stain
a fairy ephemeral
a witnessed dream

overflow

Same place, different view by Anna Dickie

In 100 Poems, poetry on March 4, 2009 at 12:04 pm

Title: Same place, different view
Author: Anna Dickie
Number: 98/100
Allocated postcode: EH41

Same place, different view

We stand on a narrow strip
of beach and watch a wild day
ebb on a menacing tide.

At our feet cut-throat clams
and strops of slack, slippery
kelp litter the sand.

Across the bay the square bulk
of Cockenzie Power Station
squats before Edinburgh.

Twin stacks belch tarry trails,
and a dragon’s tail
of pylons flexes ever west.

Offshore winter waders huddle,
while a skein of geese unzips
pink-layered folds of sky.

I call the dogs and we turn
for home as night pours
from every rock and crag.

Class by Irene Brown

In poetry on March 4, 2009 at 11:59 am

Title: Class
Author: Irene Brown
Number: 97/100
Allocated postcode: EH3

Class

Strung out
like the pearls of a dowager’s necklace
the street lamps light
the pink and yellow pavements
of the New Town,
illuminating the grand Georgian window
draped
with an old shower curtain.

Class.

Princes Street by Alan Gillis

In 100 Poems, poetry on March 4, 2009 at 11:56 am

Title: Princes Street
Author: Alan Gillis
Number: 96/100
Allocated postcode: EH2

Princes Street

The Scott monument
spires over a girl who begs
in a stench of piss-scent

as pigeons peck at Greggs
pastry, a can of stale beer,
dogshit, stubbed-out fags.

“Fuck off out of here,”
says a man to the wind-whipped
girl, and I’m stood here

like a dunted dip-
shit under black Binnie shale,
waiting for your lip-

sticked smile, your cold pale
face like a haddock fillet,
as he hoicks a real

big snochter and spits
in her face—a splurt of catarrh
that driddles, divots

her dark chin like pus,
like a green gridlocked Edinburgh
Tours
open-topped bus.

Dead Plastic Crow by Aonghas Macneacail

In 100 Poems, poetry on February 16, 2009 at 9:53 am

Title: dead plastic crow
Author: Aonghas Macneacail
Number: 95/100
Allocated postcode: EH9

dead plastic crow

what i thought was
the rotting corpse of a crow
in the high bare branches

on looking again, i saw
was the tattered remains
of an old black bin-bag

—–

i tell the class what i’ve
seen, and someone
says but you’re a writer,
so i tell the class it’s
just what i saw, what
i thought i saw, and
how i saw it

—–

and later, leaving the
building, i see the tattered
remains of an old black
bin-bag, in the high bare
branches, are the rotting
corpse of a crow, with
plastic feathers

Aig Dachaidh/At Home by Aonghas Macneacail

In 100 Poems, poetry on February 16, 2009 at 9:50 am

Title: aig dachaidh
Author: Aonghas Macneacail
Number: 94/100
Allocated postcode: EH8

aig dachaidh

air sràid mhic neacail, saoilidh
mi gum bu chòir dhomh bhi aig
dachaidh, mar a b’ è gainne sgorra,
ged is breac gu leòr a ballaichean,
agus dh’iarrainn liantan gorma,
spréidh seach treudan charbad

‘s caomh leam, dh m’aindeoin,
lainnir tàirneach nam bùth

at home

on nicolson street, i think
i should be at home, were
it not for the absence of peaks
though its walls are chequered
enough, but I’d like green fields,
livestock rather than traffic’s roar

and i’m happy, despite myself, in
the beguiling radiance of shops

(clan Macneacail/Nicolson – associated with sgorra breac – the “checkered peaks”, near Portree, Skye)

A Winter Walk Along Lauriston Place by Lara Barbier

In 100 Poems, poetry on February 15, 2009 at 7:36 pm

Title: A Winter Walk Along Lauriston Place
Author: Lara Barbier
Number: 93/100
Allocated postcode: EH3

A Winter Walk Along Lauriston Place

Edinburgh tonight:
I walk
Beneath the brazen lights,
Sickly pinks and Vermillion
Lollipop-green,
Prismatic shades thrown back
In the dankness.
Colours crawling across the
Melanoid runnel
To bite at my feet.
The porous pavement
Sucks souls down
Until I grow,
A human lamppost
Rising from the chill
concrete,
Throwing illumination
Across the faces of passersby
and
Herringscale patterns
across the pavement.
The street swims by beneath,
Siberia groans aloud in my ears
Shifting the last of the leaves
Into freefall,
Fringed by sticky frost,
Glass fronds
That might shatter
If they meet a flare of light
From beyond the street.

A Lifetime by Ron Butlin

In 100 Poems, poetry on February 15, 2009 at 7:29 pm

Title: A Lifetime
Author: Ron Butlin
Number: 92/100
Allocated postcode: EH11

A Lifetime

For twenty-eight years I have been watching these swans
rise into the air;
with their wings they beat the trees and canal bank into pieces
as they lift themselves up.

You say that everything will be restored afterwards,
and it is taking you a lifetime to say this.

As the swans rise into the air I turn to kiss you,
but you are watching how the stone you have thrown
remains in the sky.