Features / Poets’ Corner – Yvonne Tait
Carol Jamieson latest guest in her Poets’ Corner is Yvonne Tait, a recent winner of the Scots Writer of the Year award
ON MEETING Yvonne, she struck me as someone who thinks slightly deeper than most.
You get a sense of her ability to embrace the surroundings and culture she lives in as well as her understanding of human nature. Yvonne’s writing says it all and everyone will find something they can identify with.
She has just recently won the Scots Writer of the Year award for 2025. She also snapped up the Rhoda Bulter Award for Shetland Dialect Writing in 2024.
This was for a short story called A Meid Athin da Twalmont (A Marker Within the Twelve Months), a delightful tale about a young boy (Billy) who befriends a man saddened by a tragic event which occurred on the boy’s birthday.
It is a story about compassion, courage and empathy. You can find it as a film on YouTube narrated by Yvonne. She illustrated the story and the drawings are brought to life for the film made by Jonathon Bulter.
Yvonne also received a Scots language publication grant from the Scottish Book Trust last year, so this story will be available in print quite soon.
The piece of writing she chose for the Poets’ Corner is what I heard at the Christine De Luca event she talks of. It made a huge impact on me and from what I could see, everyone else around.
Yvonne recalls how she wrote Vod for the book launch event at Hymhus last November.
“We hae a peerie writers’ group in Bigton so twartree o wis contributed somethin on da theme. I tried tae capture an pit intae words some o da thowts an reflections dat swirl aboot my mind as I walk aroond da hills an vod hooses nearby,” she says.
“I wis born an grew up in Lerwick, but Mam an Dad hailed fae Hillswick an da Ness respectively, so I aften spent weekends an school holidays wi wir grandfolk on da crofts dey grew up in. At da Ness, as a bored teenager, I spent a lot o time tryin tae complete da crossword in da Shetland Life, an loved scouring da Shetland Dictionary tae fin da right words.
“I noo bide on a croft on da periphery o Ireland, Bigton, wi my husband an twaa bairns. Wir lucky tae bide in da haert o a lovely community, but also enjoy da solitude dat I fin I aften need.
“I love bein immersed in da sensory rhythms o rural life – da shifting soondtrack o da birds, an da spectacle an smell o da wild flooers, as dey evolve wi da seasons.
“I fin a thrill every voar at da first hearin o a shalder, an da bittersweet delight o da peerie purple-blue scabious flooers, dat herald da end o simmer, an da arrival o hairst…”
Referring to how she started writing he adds: “I have always enjoyed makkin things, an writing peerie bits o verse for freends an family, so creativity has always been a compelling diversion, as weel as a wye o connectin wi mysel an idder folk.
“I started tae write mair prolifically aboot five or six years ago, pairtly I think as a healing response tae da emotional unravelling o motherhood. I began tae write tae decompress, as I navigated a new era o vulnerability dat comes wi being a parent.
“By da time da bairns were baith at school, I had mair time an headspace, an found renewed solace in creative pursuits. I’m no a sophisticated writer or poet, but I write aboot da things I feel an observe, an da words dat come tae me, aften whin I’m oot walking, or in da depths o da night whin I canna sleep!
“I have always loved stories dat move me; da wans dat reach right in tae da dark recesses, agitating tightly held feelings, an lettin dem breathe a sigh o relief a start.
“I lik tae combine my ain words an images tae gie voice tae my emotions, an I’m blyde if maybe some o it maybe stirs somethin athin someen else too…”
VOD
I can see da Mawbrae hooses fae wir but end windoo
Vod noo, dey lie whiet
Unbidden an lanerly abön da loch
Dir purpose lang redundant
Bit fur twartree yowes seekin shalter
An peerie birds blyde o a whiet skyug tae mak dir nests
Da kinda place dat whin I wis a bairn
We widdo spent mony an oor playin hoosie
Kings an Queens o wir ain imaginary domains
Da sooth gaevil haes rummelled in surrender tae gravity
Bit tae da nort, a solitary lum stands defiant
Looms ominously skaeve abön da lang cauld hert-stane
Up closs, I fin an intimacy here yit
An abidin life force o forgotten sowls
An whispered voices ida void
Bygone stories an secrets laed tae rest here
Aert-fast as da stanes
As, peerie wyes, da aert reclaims it’s haad
I geen an sit dare back an fore
An let da stirleens settle abön me
Dir whistles an curious clicks ir a sweet soondtrack tae my towts…
Whaa baed here? Whaa loved here?
Whaa shed dir mortal blöd here?
Whaa laughed here? Whaa wept here?
Whaa near demented gud here?
Whaa gently wrocht dis patch o grund
An windered at da stars…?
Whaa baet, an bruised, an bullied here
Left a legacy o scars….?
Whitna peerie lass apun a simmer’s day
Gaddered seggies at da burn
Dan grew tae be a midder tö
An raised her bairns in turn…
A clossness, an a kinship here
As tagidder, time spent strivin
A life o harsh monotony
Trang maistly joost survivin
Lang an hard da winters here
Cauld bitin at dir banes
Da lowin fire sustainin life
Noo lies a roog o stanes…
I maana look back an naively romanticise
I can nivir ken da lives dey led
Dir pain, dir joy, dir contemplations…
Bit as I traivel hom tae wir weel haeted hoose
An my incomparably comfortable life
In some wyes, I envy dem…
Dey haedna time tae dwell ower lang apö da wider world’s affairs
Kent foremist da ups an doons o dir ain day ta day lives
An shared a common plight wi dir neebirs
“Wir aa Jock Tamson’s bairns” efter aa…
Far fae parochial, backward fokk
Dey wir nae doot thinkers an philosophers tö
Bit subsistence wis dir main concern
Wir lives by contrast ir noo saturated wi idder fokk’s concerns
Fae da sublime, tae da ridiculous
Da humdrum, tae da horrific
Tech billionaires strive tae rob wis blind o wir valuable attention
In return fur cheap thrills an fake news
Dopamine druggies, we shaste anidder hit…
Unawaars, wir funnelled doon lanerly rabbit hols
Intae echo chambers o wir ain particular doom
An exist in ever-decreasing circles o mirrored self-righteousness
Poverty an persecution persist
Polarisation pervades,
As da fascists steer up festerin pots o fear, an turn it in tae hate
Compelled tae consume yit mair information
Wir owerwhelmed, an owerlodded,
As we strive ta keep wir wits aboot wis…
Sittin at da Mawbrae I tak salist ta tink on dis ‘progress’
Better a day spent howin totties alangside your enemy
As barterin bitter insults fae isolated keyboards…
Vod hooses ir no joost irrelevant, redundant roogs o stanes
Bit testaments o time, an valuable reminders
O whaa we ir, wir common humanity, an wir mortality
We maan bit strive tae keep wir sense o purpose in a fractured world
An cling tae goodness, tae communities, an tae hope
Lest wir haerts turn cauld an vod as rummelled roogs o stanes…
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