Robert Garioch Sutherland was born in Edinburgh on 9th  May 1909. His father was a painter and

Robert Garioch Sutherland was born in Edinburgh on 9th  May 1909. His father was a painter and semi-professional fiddler and his mother a music teacher. Young Robert was educated at the Royal High School, Edinburgh, and the University of Edinburgh, graduating MA (with honours) in English Language and Literature in 1931. He won the Sloan Prize for verse in Scots in 1930. During the Second World War Garioch served in the Royal Signals, but was a prisoner of war between 1942 and 1945 - the subject of his moving memoir, ‘Two Men and a Blanket’. Both before and after the war he worked as a school teacher in the London area, a profession he later took up when he returned to Edinburgh until the mid-1960s.Robert Gairloch then became a lexicographer on the ‘Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue’, and was also a transcriber at the School of Scottish Studies. He was appointed Writing Fellow at the University of Edinburgh in 1971.Garioch had met Sorley MacLean at Edinburgh University, and poems by both appear in 17 Poems for 6d, published by Garioch.  Scots was spoken in the family home and Garioch wrote mostly in Scots all his writing life, but as somewhat of an outsider to the Scottish Renaissance – he was never part of MacDiarmid’s crowd. His Scots was not dictionary-bound in the way MacDiarmid’s was but while he based it on his spoken Edinburgh Scots dialect, he was happy to borrow whatever he thought appropriate.  He cared deeply about the craft of writing and was adept at many different verse forms, especially the sonnet, which he used ‘with unsonnet-like tonalities’  Not only writing about Edinburgh, he also tackled larger themes. ‘The Wire’, for instance, is a long allegorical poem on death and imprisonment, based on his time as a prisoner of war; ‘The Muir’ explores science and religion. Both a wee bit too long for the poems I like to read.His main impact was achieved through his well-crafted shorter poems. My type of verse, nothing too challenging, that keep my attention, which I admit often wavers, my school reports a testament to this, often had the words “Easily distracted” written on them.Serving as wry observations of Scottish life, especially in Edinburgh, the poems retain a large fanbase to this day, and Garioch is remembered with an inscription in Makars’ Court outside the Writers’ Museum.The Aberdonian poet  Roderick Watson  said Garioch’s poems “(were) ‘the brilliant fusions of Humanist and modern observer which have established his reputation as one of the greatest of modern Scottish poets.’ He died in the spring of 1981Here’s the hard bit, trying to choose a poem to highlight Garioch’s talent, I have chosen one that he wrote in praise of a poet often overlooked as he died at such a young age, but one that perhaps would have been as famous as Burns had he reached a maturity, Robert Ferguson, he writes of his debt to a poet whom he appeared to regard as his spiritual predecessor.  I too can relate to this as I have the title could be written for me as I have stood at the spot in the Canongate Kirkyard many times where Garioch must have as the chrysali of the poem may have materialised in his head. Like Garioch, when I am there I also think of Rabbie, as he must have stood, or “knelt” as he says, before the sad poets grave.The pics are interesting, Gairoch is in all three, the second and third are by Fife painter Alexander Moffat, some of you might recognise the third, as I have posted it before, but not sure if it was on here or the Edinburgh group I am admin on, it is called “Poets Pub features 7 poets, including Gairoch, although as I said earlier, he was never a regular in Milnes Bar, where poest used to gather, the "pub” is actually an amalgam of a few bars in the area including The Cafe Royal and The Abbotsford. The other poets sitting at the tables are Norman MacCaig, Hugh MacDiarmid, Sorley Maclean, Iain Crichton Smith, George Mackay Brown, Sydney Goodsir Smith and  Edwin Morgan   The fourth pic is his inscription on Makars Court in the Old Town.I’ve chosen the poem that I can directly relate to, At Robert Fergusson’s Grave, is a place I have stood and indeed posted pics from through the years on here. Canongait Kirkyaird in the failing yearis auld and grey, the wee rosiers are bare,five gulls leam white agin the dirty air:why are they here?  There’s naething for them here.Why are we here oursels?  We gaither nearthe grave.  Fergusons mainly, quite a fair turn-out,respectfu, ill at ease, we stareat daith - there’s an address - I canna hear.Aweill, we staund bareheidit in the haar,murnin a man that gaid back til the pooltwa-hunner year afore our time.  The glaurthat haps his banes glowres back.  Strang, present doolruggs at my hairt.  Lichtlie this gin ye daur:here Robert Burns knelt and kissed the mool. -- source link
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