Description
*Pre-order now for the publication date of Thursday 7th May*
Written in a rich but accessible Borders Scots, the poems in Flichter contemplate nature, family, language and history in relation to our contemporary crises. Bringing together award-winning poems and new work which explore the braes of the Borders and beyond, this is a powerful debut from a bold new voice in Scots language poetry.
Craig Aitchison is a teacher and writer based in Galashiels. He has won several major prizes for individual poems including the Wigtown Poetry Prize and the McLellan Prize. Last year he published a pamphlet-length poem about the River Tweed. This is his first full collection.
‘Flichter’ contains many fine individual poems but as a whole it has an almost mesmeric quality, as if you were listening to a quiet but urgent discussion that touches on environment, memory, history and being. Crucially, Scots is the conduit for the flow of thought. Multiple internal rhymes, echoes and alliterations push the ideas on in a way that demands that the poems be read aloud. This is a brave, vulnerable, questioning and vibrant first collection. – James Robertson
Craig writes poetry with an evocative power. He creates beauty in the everyday, carefully crafting the nuances of humanity, history and nature. ‘Flichter’ is a celebration of the Scots leid, and in particular, the Borders dialect. This is a beautiful collection that spans across various themes, each resonating deeply. – Taylor Dyson
WICK
Stories frae lang syne, afore he wis Dad,
afore me, stories o Wick Radio,
atween hame an the White Sea, listenin,
passin on messages, howpin they’re no
lost. There’s that much love an joy in thae dots
an dashes, the oorie, eldritch leid o Morse
tappit, frae thae whae came back; thae whae niver.
Lives forewandert; the gowstie waves o the North
Sea. An even afore, the danger an distress
aff the coast o Morocco, in Libya;
on tankers an in Ford Prefects. Near an far.
Sae mony stories, staundin on the strata
o Caithness flagstane, formt millennia
ago, when aw this wis yin an far awey.
