My grandmother is like a Scottish pine

Have you ever noticed how many trees resemble human beings? Really, take a good look at the shapes and faces of trees as you manoeuvre through your day and see how many resemble the people you know, love or work with. We can use poetry in the same way as we do writing prompts. Poems help us to unravel ourselves on the page and you can use a poem to warm up on the page or to kick start your writing practice.

Poems can be a great tool for reflective inquiry into the self when you’re not sure where to start. They are a great way to contain emotions when writing about difficult or complex emotions or events. I remembered a poem that we examined on my Masters in creative writing and personal development. It was by the Scottish poet Jackie Kay:

My grandmother is like a Scottish pine

tall, straight backed, proud and plentiful

a fine head of hair, greying now

Tied up in a loose bun.

Her face is ploughed land

Her eyes shine rough as amethysts.

She wears a plaid shawl  with the zeal of an Amazon

She is one of those women

burnt in her croft rather than moved off her land

She speaks Gaelic mostly,

English only

when she has to, then its blasphemy.

My grandmother sits by the fire and swears

“There’ll be no darkie baby in this house”

My grandmother is a Scottish pine

Tall, straight-backed, proud and plentiful

Her head tied with pins in a ball of steel wool

Her face is high as ice

And her eyes are amethysts

- That Distant Apart, 1991 Turret Books

The poem evoked ambivalent memories of my own difficult relationship with my paternal grandmother. Memories I have conveniently chosen not to dwell on. I was five years old when she came from the Caribbean to join the family in the UK. She was cold, cruel and nasty to me for the two years that she stayed with us. I remember her stay as a very bleak time.

After reading the poem for this blog I took to the page to record my memories of grandmother and me and in my writing I recalled some stark memories of her. The lines on her face from where she always frowned remind me of the lines on tree bark. I remembered a transparent bag she carried which intrigued my childhood curiosity. Her shape was less the slender frame of a pine tree and more suited to that of a beech or an oak. The poem provided a ‘safe enough’ space for me to explore grandmother and me.

But there was plenty more to explore about the poem. I enjoyed the way Kay uses images and metaphors of the earth. I particularly line her opening line as I imagined her grandmother’s height and frame captured in the image of the pine tree. Kay caught me by surprise as I typed out the poem when I realised her sentiments about her grandmother changed halfway through.

The steadiness of the image of the Scottish pine tree at the start and the close of the poem allow me to navigate my way through the shadow side Kay presents of her grandmother. There is space to hold the line. “There’ll be no darkie baby in this house, “ and all that this explicit line suggests. I am left with the upfront image of the grandmother’s shadow side, “her head tied with pins in a ball of steel wool.” My Dad was a carpenter and I knew the feel and coarse texture of steel wool that would slice your fingers open with the barest amount of pressure to the skin.

Poetic Inquiry:

1. What are your personal views about the poem?

2. What was your relationship like with any of your grandparents or great grandparents if you knew them? Write about your memories.

3. What are your personal stories of racism or of being ostracised or excluded growing up either as a receiver or as an observer?

4. Whose faces and stature do you see in the trees around you?