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Làmh ri Glèidheadh / Hand to Hold

Làmh ri Glèidheadh

Tha cuimhne leam an là
chum thu mo làmh na do làimh-s’,
’s sinn air coiseachd an àrd-shràid
bhon fhlat agam dhan bhaile.

Thuirt thu air an là sin: “’S dòch’
gur sinn an fheadhainn neartmhor,
oir ma chì ògannach gèidh sinn,
chì e gu bheil e ceart gu leòr.”

“OK”, ars mise, dòchasach,
gun cumadh tu i an comhnaidh,
ach cha do chum thu riamh a-rithist i,
is chum thu do làmhan-sa nad phoca.

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Little Cyclone

For those who stayed in Belgium, Groupthink kept the peace;
Collective see nothings, hear nothings, do nothings. 
A passive acceptance of German aggression,
Sharp instruments of Nazi collaboration.  

Brussels refused to conform; a lonely rebel, 
She resisted unrecognised authority, 
Flew invisible flags of rebellion, stretched out
A Comet Line of thousands on to France or Spain 

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resistance, WW2, solidarity


Sometimes we have to take a risk to achieve our deepest desires. And, as a child of nine in the long hot summer of 1974, my deepest desires lay close to home - in the freezer cabinet of The Shop.

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Love Is Rebellion

‘Rebel’ is a word for other people
Rebel is for the innovators, those breaking the rules
Whereas for me
I am too honest for my own good
I always pay in full, never skipping the fare
I only cross at the green man, checking both sides
I play by the rules, colour within the lines 

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Mibbees Aye

I’ve niver thought o’ masel as bein any kind o’ rebel an I canny mind o’ a time when I rebelled against anythin. Mibbee I’m a wee bit “thrawn” as ma mither used tae say but then she always hud a front fur folk. Dinny be yoursel, behave, dinny show me up!  Repression wis her byword. Like when I wanted ma ears pierced when I was forteen an ma mither prattled on aboot “if the Lord meant you tae huv holes in your ears you’d be born wi them” and mair nonsense aboot it makin you look cheap.

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Miss Myatt, Rebel Teacher

This is the story of how one of the worst ever students became a teacher.

On my teaching course – my PGCE in Nottingham – I felt like the odd one out. I was the kid who’d been the naughty one, always in detention. I was surrounded by trainee teachers who’d been Good. However, I believed my somewhat shady background would make me a good teacher. And it did.

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Mr. Hamilton

He was hip. He wore crisp shirts and wide neckties. He had a Seventies mustache and Burt Reynolds hair. His right hand almost always held chalk. His left hand was usually in his front pocket. His Levis were so tight that to remove his hand from his pocket he had to put down the chalk, reach across his body and pinch a bit of fabric on his upper left thigh. In this way he would pin down the interior pocket and keep it from pulling inside-out as he removed his hand. This always left a spot of chalk dust on his pants that he would carefully brush off.

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My Rebel

It was standing up for myself for the first time. It was sneaking two cakes into my friend’s bag in the lunch line instead of one. It was staying at the park that little bit later past my curfew, to enjoy the sunshine and smell of sun-tan lotion during long summer holidays. It was ‘backies’ on bikes and rollerblading down hills, even though it was dangerous.

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for Gwendolyn Brooks

We's at uni
then the brew
see they Macjobs
we's missed the queue
we's do Ees
wit do wur heid
pushin' forty
we's aw deid

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Night, night, sleep tight

Dinnae let the bedbugs bite

Jist squeeze em tight

An’ they’ll no bite anither night

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