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Best Famous Jackie Kay Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Jackie Kay poems. This is a select list of the best famous Jackie Kay poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Jackie Kay poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Jackie Kay poems.

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by Jackie Kay | |

Baby Lazarus

 When I got home
I went out into the garden
Liking it when the frost bit
My old brown boots
And dug a hole the size of a baby
And buried the clothes
I'd bought anyway, just in case.
A week later I stood at my window And saw the ground move And swell the promise of a crop; That's when she started crying.
I gave her a service then Sang Ye Banks And Braes Planted a bush of roses Read from the Bible, the book of Job Cursed myself digging a pit for my baby Sprinkling ash from the grate.
Late that same night She came in by the window My baby Lazarus And suckled at my breast.


by Jackie Kay | |

SOUND OF SLEAT

 I always looked out at the world,
And wondered if the world looked back at me,
Standing on the edge of something,
On my face- the wind from the cold sea.
Across the waters were mirrors to see Faces that looked like me, People caught between two places, People crossing over the seas.
And it seemed from my croft -With the old stones and the sheep, And the sound of the songs in my sleep- That the music of folk somewhere meets On the edge of the place we would be.
I’ve lived through some hard times.
My face is lined; my body so frail.
I used to think I might be able – When the river ran to meet the sea, When the sun and moon shared the sky- To look out as far as the eye could see, And raise a glass to the girl looking back at me.


by Jackie Kay | |

Late Love

 How they strut about, people in love,
How tall they grow, pleased with themselves,
Their hair, glossy, their skin shining.
They don't remember who they have been.
How filmic they are just for this time.
How important they've become - secret, above The order of things, the dreary mundane.
Every church bell ringing, a fresh sign.
How dull the lot that are not in love.
Their clothes shabby, their skin lustreless; How clueless they are, hair a mess; how they trudge Up and down the streets in the rain, remembering one kiss in a dark alley, A touch in a changing room, if lucky, a lovely wait For the phone to ring, maybe, baby.
The past with its rush of velvet, its secret hush Already miles away, dimming now, in the late day.