Ùrachadh mu Dheireadh 21/09/2017
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Choisinn 'A Memory of Old Men Grieving' an dàrna duais san earrann airson bàrdachd inbhich ann an Co-fharpais Sgrìobhaidh Nèill Ghunnaich, 2009. B' e
Jim Bradbury à Eastbourne, Sussex an Ear, a sgrìobh e.
Gus comharrachadh Tighinn Dhachaigh a dh'Alba 2009 b' e an cuspair a thaghadh, 'Living with one another', pàirt de bhriathran-labhairt na b' fhaide air a thogail o nobhail Nèill Ghunnaich 'The Serpent'.

B' e Jon Miller, bàrd is prìomh thidsear Beurla aig Àrd-sgoil Ulapuil agus Seumas Robasdan a tha a' sgrìobhadh an dà chuid, bàrdachd agus rosg, a bha nam britheamhan aig earrann bàrdachd nan inbhich.

Tha Co-fharpais Sgrìobhaidh Nèill Ghuinne air a chur air dòigh le luchd-obrach Seirbheis Foghlaim, Cultair & Spòrs Chomhairle na Gàidhealtachd le taic o Urras Nèill Ghuinne. Chaidh a chur air bhonn ann an 1988.

A memory of old men grieving

They gathered under slabs of slate grey sky
to bury their friend in the pitted ground.

I stood knuckle high amongst them,
their scarred hands hanging motionless
like stilled pendulums.

Later at our house, awkward in their Sunday suits,
they politely harvested the meagre spread,
the dainty plates dwarfed in those same big hands.

Then crated ale replaced the tea
and a whiskey bottle appeared,
pulled like a rabbit from a hat,
and I was ushered up with ruffled hair.

With prayerful hands between cold thighs
I lay listening to their lilting voices
drifting up the narrow stair,
the shared memories, tall tales and songs
loosening the grief.

In the early hours a knocking broom
and a woman's shouted warning
filtered through my hungry dreams.
Chairs dragged on the bare boards below,
voices lowered, then slowly drifted away.
The alley gate banged, a dog barked,
and I fell back into the last thin scrape of night.

In the morning watching my grandfather shave,
his great escarpment of a head dipped towards the sink,
he looked to me like God breathing life upon the waters,
and for a boyish moment I thought the thick leather braces
hanging loose by his sides might be big enough to swing on.

Airson stiùireadh mu bhith a’ cleachdadh ìomhaighean agus susbaint eile, faicibh duilleag ‘Na Cumhaichean air Fad.’
’S e companaidh cuibhrichte fo bharantas clàraichte ann an Alba Àir. SC407011 agus carthannas clàraichte Albannach Àir. SC042593 a th’ ann an High Life na Gàidhealtachd.
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'A Memory of Old Men Grieving' 2a duais, Co-fharpais Sgrìobhaidh Nèill Ghunnaich, 2009

2000an

Niall Gunnach; pìosan bàrdachd; litreachas; cofharpaisean; farpaisean; co-fharpaisean sgrìobhaidh; co-fharpaisean bhàrdachd; sgeulachd; sgeulachdan; seanchas; sgrìobhadh rosg; bàird; sgrìobhadairean; claistinneach

Leabharlainn na Gàidhealtachd

Neil Gunn Writing Competition (audios)

Choisinn 'A Memory of Old Men Grieving' an dàrna duais san earrann airson bàrdachd inbhich ann an Co-fharpais Sgrìobhaidh Nèill Ghunnaich, 2009. B' e <br /> Jim Bradbury à Eastbourne, Sussex an Ear, a sgrìobh e.<br /> Gus comharrachadh Tighinn Dhachaigh a dh'Alba 2009 b' e an cuspair a thaghadh, 'Living with one another', pàirt de bhriathran-labhairt na b' fhaide air a thogail o nobhail Nèill Ghunnaich 'The Serpent'.<br /> <br /> B' e Jon Miller, bàrd is prìomh thidsear Beurla aig Àrd-sgoil Ulapuil agus Seumas Robasdan a tha a' sgrìobhadh an dà chuid, bàrdachd agus rosg, a bha nam britheamhan aig earrann bàrdachd nan inbhich.<br /> <br /> Tha Co-fharpais Sgrìobhaidh Nèill Ghuinne air a chur air dòigh le luchd-obrach Seirbheis Foghlaim, Cultair & Spòrs Chomhairle na Gàidhealtachd le taic o Urras Nèill Ghuinne. Chaidh a chur air bhonn ann an 1988.<br /> <br /> A memory of old men grieving<br /> <br /> They gathered under slabs of slate grey sky<br /> to bury their friend in the pitted ground. <br /> <br /> I stood knuckle high amongst them,<br /> their scarred hands hanging motionless<br /> like stilled pendulums. <br /> <br /> Later at our house, awkward in their Sunday suits,<br /> they politely harvested the meagre spread,<br /> the dainty plates dwarfed in those same big hands.<br /> <br /> Then crated ale replaced the tea<br /> and a whiskey bottle appeared,<br /> pulled like a rabbit from a hat,<br /> and I was ushered up with ruffled hair. <br /> <br /> With prayerful hands between cold thighs<br /> I lay listening to their lilting voices<br /> drifting up the narrow stair,<br /> the shared memories, tall tales and songs<br /> loosening the grief. <br /> <br /> In the early hours a knocking broom<br /> and a woman's shouted warning<br /> filtered through my hungry dreams. <br /> Chairs dragged on the bare boards below,<br /> voices lowered, then slowly drifted away. <br /> The alley gate banged, a dog barked,<br /> and I fell back into the last thin scrape of night. <br /> <br /> In the morning watching my grandfather shave,<br /> his great escarpment of a head dipped towards the sink,<br /> he looked to me like God breathing life upon the waters,<br /> and for a boyish moment I thought the thick leather braces<br /> hanging loose by his sides might be big enough to swing on.