Eve Pearce has been an actress all her life. Born in Aberdeen she came to London at the age of 12 and regards herself as a Scottish Londoner. She started to write poetry in Katherine Gallacher´s workshops, and in 2007 John Rety published her pamphlet WOMAN IN WINTER (Hearing Eye): and in 2012 her First Collection CAPTURING SNOWFLAKES, together with a CD, LEFT TAE´ TELL THE TALE, was published by Greenheart Press.
farewell the Tay. Farewell weekday toil.
He loves me. We both love Schiehallion,
beautiful mountain, perfect shape,
with a pimple on the summit.
May, but snow still on our favourite Ben.
How odd life is! He a Kindertransport child,
me a Scot only because my mother
travelled alone and heavily pregnant
from sunny Nice to icy Aberdeen
so that her bairn would be born a quine.
In her Bible she wrote:
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my help,
I lift mine now to Schihallion.
Tomorrow our life will drop,
flop into weekday mode.
the mountain has waited, will wait,
shining in the waters of the Tummel
for ever and aye.
ANDROMACHE´S LULLABY
Today you are anchored to my belly
and I am rocking you, rocking you
your fine gold hair on my shoulder
a scarf of grief
They will come soon to take you away
to dash you from the highest rock…
we all know the place, overlooking Troy.
I don´t want to do this, says the Greek herald
He looks kind. I believe him.
No doubt he has children of his own.
The women are keening, beating their breasts
No words come to me, no tears
I rock you my son, my only son…
Hector´s child … golden one
Sleep now my love, so that the moment
when they snatch you from me
may be as a dream, and you wake only
to a flash of blue and your father´s arms
I am rocking you now
rocking and praying to Zeus to save you —
to Hera, Queen of Heaven
such a little boy
to add you to her family
The Herald says it is time
My arms tighten round you
I bless your astonished eyes,
bluer than the skies above.
I call your name:
I let you go
LANG TAE WAIT
Weel, ancient I may be, bit a Granny,
I´d lang tae wait, thocht it wud nivir cum,
bit life´s a funny thing, ye cannae
tell when it´ll deal a body blow, or sum
wee pressie … jist when ye´d gied up hope
and thocht ye wernae fit; and ye´d better be,
for Grannies are aye on call, so dinnae mope,
be a´ready fur the crisis, bit see
ye´re nae mouthin´ the borin´ platitude:
aye weel, this is the way I used tae dae it.
The wurld his changed, ditch that attitude,
aye weel, this is the way I used tae dae it.
The wurld his changed, ditch that attitude,
–