Robert Fergusson

Gold cherry

By alexwritings

Thu, 04 Nov 2021
  • 1277 reads
8 comments
 

b. 1750 — d. 1774

The gold solder
of a two-day opium come down
leaks through the lattice
of your thoughts

as you lay buckled
in the dung-leavened gully
of Craig’s Close.
You loosen your cravat,

eyes locked on the rooftops
where curlicues of smoke
marry themselves off
into the evening air.

And that’s when it hits:
you’re going mad
and Bedlam is beckoning its gnarled finger
from the synaptic mouth

of Bristo Place.

Certificate U
Poem
Other Fiction

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

I had to look up the name of Robert Fergusson, as I had no idea who he was. I read he was a Scottish  bohemian poet. so your first stanza made a lot of sense with his liking for opium, which must have inspired his writing...but also had an effect on his mind. 

Very interesting poem, introducing me to someone I knew nothing about before.

Many thanks.

Jenny.

 

 

Submitted by alexwritings on

Thanks Jenny. Yes I always feel sorry for Fergusson. He was a great Enlightenment thinker but is often forgotten about. Rabbie Burns loved him, though, and even donated his headstone when he died. In all likelihood he probably had a nervous breakdown, partly as a result of a brain injury. The Royal Edinburgh Hospital was founded soon after in an attempt to treat mental health patients better following his (no doubt) barbaric treatment in Bedlam

 

Submitted by celticman on

I think Burns copied his poetic meter. Not that I know about these thiings. We all go mad- eventually. 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

a fitting tribute to an unjustly forgotten figure of Scottish literature. Why not share and/or retweet if you like it too?

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Like Jenny, had not heard of him. Having just read a snippet of Auld Reikie am very glad to have, now. How easily he makes a picture of a maid's life, barefoot on stone stairs in the early morning!

The words of your poem are so rich, "gold solder" and clearly defined with all your c and g sounds that give way to softer sentences, with only the hardness of d in "mad and Bedlam" to focus on at the end.

I enjoyed this very much, and has made me want to look up more of his writing :0)

Please could you explain "synaptic mouth", 

 

Submitted by alexwritings on

Thanks Di_Hard! 
 

Yes he's very unsung and died tragically early (even for those days).

 

synaptic mouth is a bit of an esoteric "in" reference to be fair. Probably needs to be clearer. Basically where the Bedlam theatre is located today is at this Y-shaped road junction that reminded me of a brain synapse. Not the best ref in the poem, a) because you need to know Edinburgh, and b) because I think the original Bedlam asylum (in Darien House) would actually have been located a bit further down I think 

 

Submitted by Peter Bennett on

Strangely, my best friend was one, Robert Ferguson Paulley. He too was a lover of literature and poetry. Tragically he died eight years ago, having contracted Motor Neurone Disease. If I ever get my WIP published, it's my intention to dedicate it to him.

 

Submitted by alexwritings on

Good plan Peter Bennett. MND is a nasty, nasty disease. All best wishes for getting the WIP published! Sure you'll get there... just gotta persevere...