Best Souter Poems

We met in yonder tavern
hay up top o' meikle hill
bousing  nappy til a' fou
the nite drave on wi' rairing voices
an the nappy growing better
a souter gars a bet wi' lades o' siller
the deil laughs as they skelpit 
slippin' in the dub. Ro'nd birch
an meikle...

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William S* showed a poetic voice
the quatrain form,his choice
he named a whigmaleerie
became a lasting legacy

* William Souter ,also famed along with Adelaide Crapsey for the popularity of the American Cinquain...

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The Journey

The journey had been long, 
the path had been narrow,
the afternoon was shortening
and my destination crept closer.
I walked on.

The path still strolled ahead of me
and no matter how fast I travelled -
that fact never altered.
I moved off now as clouds bundled above,
an acting audience...

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The Lone Tree

The autumn day had been muffled up
in thick scarf and rainproof jacket
until darkness, countryside darkness,
clambered gradually over the horizon;
silence, stillness obediently at its heel.
Then black the night, wild the sea
and the lone tree stood tall,
branches muscled, trunk heavily rooted,
protective of its remaining leaves.
...

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Morning Turns the Page

Night lies softly across the beach,
as delicate as a black, silken scarf,
while, underneath its dark veil,
the sea is blue tissue paper 
with whitened finger tips
wrapping an early morning present.
Then night, like nature’s magician, 
magically removes it’s black disguise  
allowing early morning...

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The Bitter Bite of Night!

Night creeps in sotto voce
melding with the mellowing village life.
Night, a seemingly mischievous cat,
slips along incognito in its prankish mood,
teasing any light that tries to define her.
Night now casts darkness into distant corners,
lassos slumbering, innocent buildings;
trick roping them with thinly, stretched...

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My Father’s Hand!

My father left me when I was a baby
and all that remained of him… was his hand! 
The hand that edged its way
into the last photo he took of me!
As I grew, I used to study that hand
searching, rooting for details of personality;...

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A Sensitive Man

He was the sensitive, hushed type
whose character was often folded  
inside his pocket, rather than on display.
He always felt different but adhered to the rules:
school, college and now work.
Politeness followed him courteously 
while his kindness was always considerate.
In his early years, his...

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A Study in Character

My aunt…. 
wears jewellery that winks as she walks
and she always has a sharp, shivery look
that you pay attention to …just in case!
She makes the world around her nervous
and I can hear it in my own voice;
it’s as though I have a...

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Buttered Fields
 
It was early when she was tickled awake
as light eased under the eaves
to trickle through a sigh of curtains,
to whisper across the bedroom floor,
to nudgingly nestle beside her…..and beam!
 
Outside the sun had buttered the fields,
mellowing, yellowing the crisp, morning dew.
The girl awoke...

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The House on Lake Maggiore

The house on Lake Maggiore was reality, a physical truth, 
my imagination became the artist.

The day has become  a deckchair, gently folding itself up
as my walk leads me into a discreet street
where respectful houses tip their roofs
and lampposts bow with...

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The Lie

I am an insect waiting to be squashed!

I stare hard at the ground
as if fascinated, enthralled by it
while, above, eyes of cold-cobalt  
wait to gouge and burrow out 
any self-belief that might still remain. 
 
“WELL?”
It always starts with that unsettling word.
Ironic as...

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Broken Shadows

She has always had an energetic thirst for life
but now incurious thoughts are strung across her mind
and there they hang, a washing line of confusion
until a nudge of stretching shadows ripple her soul.
And the house…. is silent.

She moves but her heart, hands and feet
appear...

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Further Along

Further along you might know some of the answers, 
further along perhaps you will understand the why.

We met on a corner of an afternoon 
where the sun had stopped to shine; 
you smiled a well-practiced smile
and I warmed myself slowly on you. 
We spoke...

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‘The Long Shadow’
     Jenny Souter 10/07/2023



     My shadow is longer than me. 
     Pooling my shape and stretching limbs, distorting reality.
     I turn the thin paper edges up and...

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