Poetry reading in Scots and English by Derek Ross (Dumfries), Stranraer-born microbiologist at D&G Royal Infirmary. His poems and photography have also been exhibited in collaborations with Angus Macmillan, Canan's Solus (2003), Tidelines (2004), and Beyond the Wall (2005). about Derek Rosslisten (3 MB) For a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:Waterloo Tower, New AbbeyOriginsG8Red Kites at BellymackLooking Out

Reading in Scots and English by poet and playright Liz Niven (Dumfries), former D&G Writer in Residence. Her collections include Stravaigin and Burning Whins, and her poetry is engraved in public art installations in southwest Scotland.about Liz Nivenlisten (3MB)For a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:WickThe New MannieIn Memoriam Solway HarvesterThe Loch DistrictThe Thistle at the BeckThe Great Russian DreamFernTouch the lucky lead

Hugh McMillan (Penpont) teaches history at Dumfries Academy. He is a past winner of the Scottish Open Poetry Competition and several Arts Council bursaries. His four poetry collections include Aphrodite's Anorak (Peterloo, 1996) and After A Storm (Smith/Doorstep, 2005). about Hugh McMillanlisten (3MB)For a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:Surprise AttacksOld PhotographPoetryWanderedMay RevisionMarkedThe World Book of the McMillans

Reading in Gaelic and English by Angus Macmillan (Dumfries). Born in Lewis, he has worked in Dumfries as a psychologist for over twenty-five years. His collection, Life Lines, is published by Markings Press, and he has produced three exhibitions of poetry and photography with Derek Ross.about Angus Macmillan listen (3 MB)For a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:Uisge beatha/WhiskyDannsa 'san t-seomar-feitheamh/Dancing in the waiting roomTha e sileadh an Leodhas/It is Raining in

Poetry for children in Scots from Itchy Coo Press by Hamish MacDonald, Robert Burns Writing Fellow for Dumfries & Galloway. He is Joint Artistic Director of Dogstar Theatre Company, and his novel The Gravy Star is published by 11:9.about Hamish MacDonaldlisten For a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:From King o the Midden (Itchy Coo Press)CreationClatty Wattie's EmporiumTwo EpitaphsNae Fizz Izzy

Douglas Lipton is a poet and teacher based in Dumfries. His works include The Stone Sleeping Bag (Mariscat Press), Hale-Bopp Poems, Fairy Tales, The Outside World (all from Markings Press). about Douglas LiptonlistenFor a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:The Yellow JerseyLullabyThree FingersKiller BeesLuna De MielSexton BeetleOak Apple'A Good Sink': an anecdoteLe Cirque Albaron

Reading by musician and poet Vivien Jones (Powfoot). She is a recipient of a Scottish Arts Council writers’ bursary, and her fiction has been broadcast on BBC Radio.listenabout Vivien JonesFor a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:Churching Hat. 1894. Parton.Log Pattern Quilt c. 1900.Animal Traps: VariousMuseum: Empty CaseMy History of CurryOctopus in GallowayFry Up

Reading poet and ecologist Jackie Galley (Caerlaverock). Her work has appeared in anthologies and as the Herald's Poem of the Day. Past winner of the Kirkpatrick Dobie Prize.listen (2 MB)about Jackie GalleyFor a hifi version of this MP3, go here.Poems:Solway SunsetBearingsAlzheimer'sThe Stonemason's TouchGranite RemainsA Piece of the Cuillins

Dante and Virgil at the River of Blood, among the Violent

We meet the Minotaur. We meet Centaurs. We cross the river of hot blood where the Violent are spending eternity.

This will be my last podcast for a little while - but the blog continues here.Place of smells and silenceOf faces and paperA haze of careLift The PatientThe Patient Is LiftedHandflighted into bedI can't resistLift The Patient The Patient Is LiftedSink featherlight forever into sheetsDrift into conversations with someone.In the rainTwo fat pigeons snuggle in.I perch to shit on a tea trayIn the night count drips of salineInvaded by fearMemories of blood and light.The old man in the bed next door

The night you twocced my heartI thought it was secured -Parked, locked and under lightsTaxed, tested and insuredThe night you twocced my heartI left it parked in gearDownhill in the suburbsAnd dented in the rearThe night you twocced my heartIt had been cleaned – it’s justThe exterior trim was shabby With a lot less chrome than rust.The night you twocced my heart.At forty it was shakingIt backfired in the morningAnd had inconsistent braking.The night you twocced my heartYou’d have spotted something

always arrives a wet dog coughinglike dawn doors in the gloomor axe on wooddays end early toomy conker socket eyesstare up at lower sunsdead things turn white belliedtoward the Northand first frost expectedthought lostetched in laced dreams of glassedges icedand a letter to a loverpenned from the front lineripped open eagerlyas snow falls smiling

This is a poem and some music that I wrote in 2001 at the height of the outbreak of Foot and Mouth Disease in the North East of England. I subsequently recorded it with the superb Northumbrian Piper Andy May on his album "The Yellow -Haired Laddie " released on Fellside in 2003. It was a real honour to collaborate with Andy and I hope one day to be able to write another piece of music for him.

On the floor in my hallwayEarly spring sunlight on our facesWe sit in shadowless conversation.Through the open door the daffodils nod acquaintance with translucent privetAnd the sweet smell of earth rises.You tell me about the time you sat in a room for a whole dayMoving round to follow the sunAs it lit each wall in turn.On reflectionI think that the sun followed youAnd finally, at duskLay with its head on your lapAs I do now.

A set of poems that I wrote about some of my favourite American musicians. All of them dead now - except Scotty.

I see him standing at the door of a hotel roomSomewhere downtownJust in his underwearWith the light behind himReefer Clint-clamped between his teethA headless gunnerLetting fly with his Colt 45Laughing as he turns his back toMotherfuckermotherfuckermotherfuckerRinging in his earsMy Odeo Channel (odeo/beae3566f0ffea4e)

The old man smilesMother of pearlAcross his fretboardDoes he dream?Is this his dream?That his fingers dribble over notesLike water over the rocks of a Mississippi streamWhere the dangerous boy from TupeloBathes in the spotlightVisible only from the waist up.

His head and his hairs were white like wool, and white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; and his feet like unto fine brass,as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. American Bandstand. 1962.His beltbuckle leaves a searing sunspot on the screenAs he prowls sleek and slick like the Arkansas pantherThat used to follow him home from chapel.His voice the rasp of a sharpening razor.Beehive girls swarm the foot of the stageOffer him all with their eyesTonight

A dead weight.A desert nightBlack Strung outAs our bootlace ties.The gasoline smellA faraway cityThe fleeting shadow of a man with a spearCaught in the flames.A promise kept.I remember the oak treeThat we used to climbStillSomeone should say somethingAs a hickory wind Blows the smoke South.