Eunice Buchanan - Poems
Eunice Buchanan
performs with dry wit in English and Scots. She taught English, Ethics, Mathematics, Embroidery, the Philosophy of Life, Comparative Religion, pancake-making and how to tie your shoe-laces - in other words she was a Primary School teacher.
Her poem 'Old Woman in the Attic' was published on a Scottish Poetry Library postcard in 2003, she was a runner-up in the BBC Wildlife Poetry Competition 2004 and won the McCash Poetry Prize in 2005. She also been the winner of the Lallans poetry and short story prizes. Former Loose Tongues member, Eunice has now emigrated to Australia. |
Old Woman in the Attic
When we bought the attic there was an old woman living there. And now there is again. When I was young there was a township of them living up there in the attics. They would fly around the rooftops on windy nights and cackle down the chimneys.
I look at the old woman in the mirror. Not long to go now. The wrinkles are coming on fine. The nose and chin are still some way apart. But already the magic has started. I can be invisible without even trying. I can hover in shops and bars and no-one knows I'm there.
At my right elbow when I pull the curtains there is a sea-gull on her nest. She has a wicked beak and a yellow baleful eye. She is my familiar and I like her. Tomorrow I shall go to the garden centre and choose my broom. I can almost feel a cackle coming on.
just another pebble
don’t get me wrong i have nothing against roundness as a concept ; it’s just that i should like to have some interesting angles. the others, those look-alikes ? they’re all washed up! see i have this streak in me. i could show you some interesting facets if i wanted to. sometimes i feel i could just break out in rhomboidal planes & polyhedra if i weren’t rubbing shoulders with this lot.
Forenent a Horny-Golach
When the Lord created Heaven and Earth he did the work richt brawly, sae hoo in aa the wide, wide warld did he mak the creepie-crawlie? My hert gaes oot tae the hawk i’ the lift tae the fishes in the sea, but the love o’ the horny-golach is no’ for the likes o’ me. There are some o’God’s craturs that I may lo’e, an’ ithers that I may thole. It grieves me that o’ Creations wark I canna lo’e the whole. I maun try my Makar’s patience for I’m awfu’ slow tae learn tae lo’e aa men like brithers and no’ wish the wicked herm. "Tae ken aa’s tae forgie aa," I’ve heard an’ maun tak heed, but it’s hard tae cry doon God’s benison for purveyors o’ spite an’ greed Sae come you here, Wee Horny. Na, dinna skitter awa’, an’ I’ll admire yer six braw legs, gin ye’ll forgie my twa.
(Concerning an earwig)
brawly – wellcreepie-crawlie - insectlift – sky
craturs – creatureslo’e – lovethole – put up with
maun – must
herm - harmforgie – forgive aa - allmaun - mustbenison - blessing
skitter – scuttlegin – |