The Visitors

Here is a poem composed by one of our writing workshop attendees, Barbara Addison. Barbara’s distinctive writing style combines humour and vivid imagery intermixed with Scots language.


 

“And what are you going to be
when you grow up?”they asked
standing Sunday hatted about to leave.
The one question of the evening.

She thought she’d be herself
but bigger and able to run faster
right up the tufted grass of sandwich Craig –
climb the purple porridge rock
reach past the salmon paste
which didn’t taste like that,
pull up by the lumps on the next porridge slice
and away to the top
where hair-grass grew on red butter
and rabbits danced and nibbled.

She’d ask them how they managed to get up
as she lay on the grass to see if it scratched.
People have to answer when you’re big.
“Well, what are you going to be?”

“I don’t know.”
“You have to be something!”
“I want to be me”, she replied.
“Bairn needs a clout”, rumbled navy blue rock.
But Granny laughed.

One thing she knew –
she didn’t want to grow up.
It all seemed a bit less somehow.


If you’d like to join our next writing group, click here.

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