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Wednesday, 4 December 2013

McGarrigle’s Glasgow

One of the scribes was taken tonight.
One of the seers, one of our own.
One of the prophets will write no more lines
in radical rhymes
nor preach them to people like us.

He struggled against his emptying days,
though yearned for contentment and calm.
Thought he had lost that angry young man,
but McGarrigle – words never die;
they’re beyond a stillness of pulse.

You spoke of a Glasgow unknown to the rich,
of the Cross, of a town built on sweat.
In the Clutha, the Scotia, the folk and the verse -
dance of the underdog, lies of the land –
were given a life in tune to your truth.

Tonight in a town made of working-class gold,
in the midst of McGarrigle’s Glasgow -
the artists and players, singers and sculptors,
poets and prophets and pipers and drummers
remember the heat of your heart;
raise their glass to the fire within.

May your flame spark gently in unsurpassed sunset tonight.

Laura Taylor
Laura Taylor just wanted to commemorate a fellow working-class poet.

Write outloud.is Laura's web home


  1. My uncle will be sadly missed he hadn,t filled his potential yet only now is he getting the the credit for his work he rightfully deserved love Joseph xx

  2. U had plenty more to offer Uncle god know what more their was ti come ,but know people are sitting up and recognise your potential .life is cruel cut down early in your life I wonder I wonder what more there was to come love Joseph xxx