Bluid Kin (24 Scots Poems)

1.Kinsman: Ötzi the iceman.K1 subcluster o the mitochondrial haplogroup K He bedd there ben the aeons, The ice- caul ower his skull as smeeth as glaiss Haein gane hyne ayont aa men’s fear Inno the mids o the void. Ae sunny day twa hikers fae Nuremberg Waukin in the Ötztal Alps Left the merked fitpath on a whim Passin a steeny corrie filled wi icebree They luiked wi grue upon a human corp Mistook him fur a modern murder victim. Sae, Ötzi the ice man cam tae be reborn Fiftythree hunner year efter his daith His body, (thirled like iron tae the rock) Bi jack haimmer an ice-axe, yarked fae its lair Hacked fae the glacier’s breist The morgue at Innsbruck laid his secrets bare Smaa and sturdy, Europe’s auldest mummy It’s odds on that the subject’s een war broon His lungs war blaik wi breathin in hairth-rikk His neb an ribs had brukken, bit healed ower. His shank banes telt he wis an uplan herdsman Traivellin lang miles on unca steep terrain Six months afore he deed, he’d bin nae weel Heezin wi wirms and flechs, a sufferin host His teeth, worn doon wi forty years o chawin His back tattooed alang the lumbar spine Twa oors afore his daith, he’d taen a meal O ibex, wheat bran, reets an Alpine fruit Dined in a conifer widlan, in the spring. Wi him, he cairriet flax, barley an poppy An the kernels o slaes & berries, fine an sappy He wore a plaid vrocht ooto wuvven girse A coat, belt, pair o leggins, loinclaith, sheen, Aa leather, cut frae different kinno skins. A bearskin bunnet, leather strap aneth. Inbye his pyoke a rowth o eesefu ferlies: A scraper, drill, flint, fungus, an bone awl Alang wi berries, birch baskets, fire-flint Wi medicine mushrooms tae takk care o sairs Upon his feet, sheen watterpruif an wide, Seeminly vrocht fur traivellin ower snaa; Bearskin fur soles, deer hide as the tap panels, A nettin ooto tree bark. Girse fur hose Sae weel designed, a Czech entrepreneur Priggit tae buy the richts fur manufacture. An there ye hae’t. A Stane Age warrior Lyin aside his weapons on the Ben. Flint knife wi ash haunle. Aixe blade wi yew haunle, Quiver o arras. A bow an a sherpenin antler These are the facks, nyaakit laid oot in the lab Neist, cams conjecture. Did he dee frae caul in a storm o coorse blin-drift? Was he a victim o ritual sacrifice? (He had an arra deep in his left showder) Wis it a tribal tulzie in the Alps? This, mynd, is truith: Forensic expert Dr Rainer Henn, Fa pit the corp in a body bag wi his bare hauns, Deed in a road accident, on his wye tae a collogue Tae spikk aboot the resurrectit ice man The Alpine guide Kurt Fritz Fa organised the ice man’s helicopter Deed in a snaa slide o a suddenty The anely ane o the climmers tae be killt The hiker frae Nurenmberg fa fand him Fell 300ft doon a skyty Alpine brae His corp fand frozen unner a sheet o ice Ötzi the ice man’s keepit in the cauld Wi ae wee windae fur fowk tae keek in Tae gawp at him, his rig-bane like a zip The curator makks a cafetiere o coffee As bairns in uniforms gyang kecklin by The corp is deef tae aa bit the soun o seelence His harns haud secrets anely corries ken. 2.A Bairn’s first Screivins The crayon hyters alang Like a brukken wheel Yarkin up an doon wi a will o’ts ain The littlin’s haun is the bridle On a kickin sheltie The infant letters kickin ower the traces 3.The Howf Ower the Border There’s a howf ower the Border best gien a wide berth Fowk wyte fower oors for their maet The ashets are chippit, nae bowls match ava An the pudden’s plunked on a side plate. The soup’s in a basin..it’s satty an cauld The coffee machine gies a hoast A shakk an a shudder. It floods ower the fleer Syne pyochers an gies up the ghost An auld wifie wytin fur tatties an mince Fell asleep fairly scunnert be’t aa She wis deid ere dessert…bit wi leeks throw the bree There wis naeb’dy tae cairt her awa There wis nae table watter, forbye’s a wee skoosh The cutlery cam in aa sizes There wis crumbs lyin thick on the cheers an the fleers Fegs there jist wis nae eyn o surprises The waitress hid plooks an a stook o pink hair The waiter wis dour an hauf canned An they baith shauchled roon wi the speed o a slug In thon howf that the cdeevil hid spawned 4.Things I ken Aboot Masel I’m crabbit wi moochers an dossers I lue ma baby grandother’s creashie neives Chauncers gie me the dry boke I lue the sun on a loch like sharn sheenin Ma life birls widdershins Mair bairn-like as the thinnin reel rins doon Yestreen I saw a deid tod on the road An wad hae gien a warld tae see it lowp 5.Sea Visions A siller mermaid left the meen An lowped intae a midnicht burn An cheenged intae a lichtsome linn That turned a kelpie’s butter churn Bit scunnered o thon darg she rose An sang a dirge ootower the sea An syne a muckle anchor brak A lang-drooned galleon brukk free The dowie liltin o the whales Rang dreich aroon the deadly bay As tae the shore the seelent ship Wis crewed bi thrang o ghaisties grey The mermaid skelped her sonsie tail Three times, an cheenged intae a sail O purest silk, tied tae the mast That cud survive baith storm an gale An up the dreepin boatie raise Frae meenlicht sea tae starnie nicht Intae the hap o rollin clouds Syne wi a grue, it dwined frae sicht 6.A Letter frae the Future Ye’ll come tae this Ye aywis kent ye wid For I hunker doon inbye ye, even the day An incubus, bow-backit A crined an slaverin orral o a craitur Aa een an saggy skin Wrinkled prune wi the nails o an auld craa Crone. Cailleach. Scrattin the yird o yestreen Like a hen-wife luikin fur eggs in a thorny buss Ye’ll craik like a taed in the sheugh Shauchle warty an creashie Ower ilkie day obstacles like stairs Yer bairns will veesit, dutifu, ae ee on the clock Daith will come as a frien. Lippen. Even noo He’s jinglin his key in the lock 7.Meditation on Winter The nicht is in ma mou Craas race in a briest fur the wids Wytin fur snaa Burns jeel aneth ice Frost ploos sharper rigs In the ley park The hurtin cauld Gnaas at ma dirlin neives 8.Wren I mynd fin friendship wis pure an true I mynd hate grew frae a hard betrayal I mynd fin ma neive clenched like a stane Anger wis forged on the hairt’s anvil The wren on the tree kens nocht o thon She kens anely the warmth o sun The needs o her cheepers inno the nest Wids, air, win, an the dappled grun 9.Three Owersetts in Scots o Poems bi Charles Simic Stane Gae inbye a stane Thon wad be my wye Let some ither body becam a doo Or gurr wi a tiger’s teeth I’m blythe tae be a stane Frae the ootside the stane’s a riddle Naebody kens foo tae answer it Yet inbye it maun be cweel an quate Even tho the coo steps on’t full wecht Even tho a bairn haives it inno a burn The stane sinks, slaw, nae geein itsel Tae the burn’s foun Far the fishies cam tae chap on it An lippen I hae seen spirks flee oot Fin twa stanes are rubbit Sae mebbe it’s nae derk inbye efter aa Mebbe there’s a meen sheenin Frae somewye, as tho ahin a knowe Jist eneuch tae makk oot The eildritch screivins, the charts o starnies On the was inbye Twa Dugs An auld dug feart o his ain shadda In some Suddron toun The tale telt me bi a wumman gaun blin Ae fine simmer evenin As the shaddas war creepin Ooto the New Hampshire wids A lang street wi jist a worriet dug An a pair o stoorie chukkens An aa thon sun stounin doon In thon nameless Suddron toun. It gart me myne the Germans merchin By oor hoose in 1944 The wye aabody stood on the pavement Watchin them ooto the neuk o the ee The yird shakkin, daith gaun by… A wee fite dug ran onno the street An got taiglit wi the sodjers’ feet A kick gart him flee as if he’d wings. Thon’s fit I keep seein Nicht comin doon. A dug wi wings. Ferlies Need Me Toun o puirly-lued cheers, baffies, fryin-pans I’m breengin back tae ye Passin ilkie car on the wye Searchin fur ye wi ma bricht heidlichts Doon the teem, derk streets O ye hairtless fowk fa canna wyte Tae gyang tae the beach the morn’s mornin Fit aboot the blaik an fite photie o yer forebears Yer leavin ahin? Fit aboot the keekin glaisses, pottit plants an coat hingers? Deid alarm clock, teem birde cage, pianie I niver play I’ll be yer waiter the nicht Ready tae takk yer order An ye’ll be ma eildritch denner guests Ilkie ane wi a tale tae tell 10. An Owersett o Chandra Candiani’s Untitled Poem in ‘Tomorrow’s Moon’ (Aruna Pub) I wad like tae ken foo tae screive A letter tae the wids Tae a burn or Tae a quality o the lift Nae a letter o human dowieness Or angert reproaches Bit paper that flooers Inno gems draain bluid Risks o heich tide Blin caller lift or clouds Wioot win foo I wad like A leid o pine preens O resin an floatin Troot a cloudy Leid that follaes The merest thochtie o cheenge 11.Owersetts in Scots o a wheen o Basho’s Haiku (1644-1694) (Karumi- lightness of touch- one-ness with nature) Gin I’d the knack I’d sing like Gean flooers faain Yalla rose petals Thunner A linn Weety June Lang hair, face Peely-wally Winter doonpish Even the puggie Needs a watterpruif Meen-dichtit buss-clover Wheesht….in the neist chaumer Snoring hoors Lanelineses Caged girse-lowper hingin Frae the waa Friens pairt foraye Wud geese Tint in cloud Dyew-draps Foo better wash awa Warld’s stoor? Frae the hairt O the sweet peony A boozie bee Simmer girse Aa that bides O sodjers’ dreams 12.Centipede A centipede bidin in Crail Tuik a notion tae gyang tae Kintail She wis hit bi a train Sae the trip wis in vain As hauf o her’s stuck tae the rail 13. Barren The bairnless wumman’s bairnies Wad luve tae climm the stairs Frae naethinness tae nipple Tae sookle human wares An whyles a cradle’s stappit Wi a littlin cam unsocht Intae a warld o sorras Far its wee needs are nocht 14.Love Story You ‘n me Doon bi the sea Side bi side Watchin the tide Nae seagulls 15. May Time 2 A bairn’s in the burn wi his breeks rowed up He’s plowterin amang the steens The yowes are pechin aneth the sun An the pink’s on the flooerin geans An aathin’s swack an brierin syne An swippert’s a lamb new-born The calfie rugs at the dreepin teat An green lies the infant corn 16.The Burn (1) Yestreen yowes climmed the girssy stair O flooers an stanes, a douce-like brae An feasted on the clovers’ bree Aside the burnie’s roundelay Their dinin room, a mornin’s wark, Wis wheeched awa by levellin scythe A muckle gap in Natur’s mids A swatch rived frae the side o Life The nettles staun lamentin roon The bauld, teem stibble at their breist The mavis in her specklit goun Winners fit weird’ll happen neist For aa maun boo afore the blade That tummles man an everglade The gorblie cheepin in the rain Flees bit a Sizzen, syne is gaen 17.The Burn (2) Yowes are croppin the girse bi the ley o the brig Their wechty oo is weety wi sappy smirr Their lantern jaas crunch sidiewyes in their mous Up on the road the antrin car wheels birr Hyne ower the loch ae Ben stauns happed in sun Favoured alane far the clouds hae pairtit air Gowden-green mangst the derk, onchancy storms The wids that hap its shouders are fey-like fair Ahin it the gluggerin watter’s clatterin doon Plain an purl in its Arran pattern puil Slokin soun, wi the yowes fur an audience Like seven wee lassies, first day at the skweel The win is ruggin a toosht o oo in the fence Docken an buttercup swey back an fore Ferns bi the dyke wyve doon like a Raja’s fan A draught is blawin frae Heiven’s open door 18. The Burn 3 The burn comes breengin doon aneth the brig Aik boughs jink furlie-orum ower the watter The foggy stanes gar bubbles blink an pop Alang the shady banks the ferns chitter The rasps are still fite flooeries on the buss The foxglove bunnets hing, disjaskit, mauve A swiftie skytes awa alang the girse Tae feed her gorblies is an on-gaun tcyauve The sklaik o birds I takk tae be delicht Mirrored inbye masel, like Bens on Loch I staun an sup ma fill o Natur’s braas Like a hett drouthy cuddy at a troch The lift is fu o bird-sang. Clouds o rain Spirk spirk throw simmer air, as smaa’s a preen The burn rins neth the brig’s wide-gapit mou This meenit, tree, burn, fern an I are ane. 19. Callander Oasis On the train frae hame tae awa, I’m teem as a cowpit pot A trauchelt hull o banes, breengin throwe space Callander is a lush hiatus, a wee oasis O a gairden, ooto the hugger-mugger o life A cat sprauchles, macho man, cat-Rambo Barin its furry breast an crotch tae the warld This gairden’s like enterin Wonderlan A bawd micht mask his tea amang the cups Roon a table set wi seats for Arthur’s knights Should they, o a suddenty, step in frae a bus Flooers ream in linns doon waas, dykes, Chinee urns An ay oweraa the hinneyed hum o bees Kerplunk! A lowpin paddock pairts a puil The sun butters the lift like a hett scone Aneth the roses, dragons scrat their dowp 20.The Wars in the Roses Spencer House & Radcliffe House are two beehives in the garden of Callander’s Bookshop Twa infant queens growe fat on Royal jeely Syne baith creep oot tae claim their richtfu place Heid o the hive’s a job fur jist ae leader Noo they maun duel tae the daith tae seize the croun Their battle skreich’s fine- tunin is G sharp Ridin the bosky wins o bluffertin June Ae queen, wi killin barb concludes the regicide Noo she maun mell wi 15 drones or mair, An orgy that is wirthy o a Borgia Syne it’s a chermed life, she’s fed an petted Until her eggs dry up, an syne they turn, Her dothers, smore her wi their bizzin bosies A matricide, fur Natur tholes nae failure 21. Nellfield Kirkyaird Horse chestnut leaves are dwinin in the heat Atap a shady yew a doo curmurs Here, a commercial traiveller’s snubbed his case Near smored aneth a swatch o sticky burrs A great tobaccy baron’s turned tae aisse The haimmer’s drappit on an auctioneer A butcher’s heid is piddlit on bi cats A granite angel’s booed ower tins o beer Teemed bi a dosser, dowie, doon-at-heel Like kirkyaird’s tenants, a forgotten chiel 22. Frae Sraìd na Banrighinn tae Oban The wannerin willies smore the sheugh The hooses smore the lan The high rise toors o Glesga toun Rise up on ilkie haun A windae, thirteen storeys heich Veranda, grim an roosty Is hung wi dryin tools an draaers Sae bricht they’d blin Carnoustie Fower coffin dodgers on a spree Crack open the champagne An scott awa at salmon, sliced Tap scran…bit on a train? A baldie wi a shovel beard Clarts anti-midgie lotion Ower his bare heid an hairy hochs Like some witch-doctor potion Blink bonnie loch atween the birks Sic winners hurtle by us Frae Glesga up tae Oban’s port Like picturs frae Parnassus 23.Pipe Band, Oban A shilpit wee craitur, chooks like a bubblyjock is giein it laldy A wee German laddie is hoochin an dauncin the ghillie mhor In a skyrie yalla t-shirt an Bermuda shorts In plastic crocs an blin-fite knottit dreidlocks A wee quine aa her lane, makks up daunce steps in front o Semi-Chem Pipe major is a capercaillie struttin afore his hens His digi tunin box, seems tae be takkin the bagpipes temperatures The drummer is beeriet ahin his instrument Furlin an duntin his furry drumsticks A Sicilian godfaither, wechtit wi bling an gowd crosses Stubs his tabbies oot in a civic flooer box An aa the whyle the sea maws screech Hosannahs 24.The Puffin I’m a dapper wee craitur, I waddle an squawk On You Tube an Face Book ye’ll see Ma neb like a wattergaw, face like a ghaist I’m the clown o the sea birds, that’s me!