We plan to have some poems on a theme of 'Hopes for Scotland' in the coming months, but first it is a pleasure to bring you this debut poem by Lorna Wallace. Tae a Selfie  caused a sensation on the internet when it appeared around Burns Night. It had over 10,000 internet shares on facebook etc. We feel it should now be available on the SLC website and its archive, so that no Scots language enthusiast will miss it. Its subject, the 'selfie' photograph, is bang up to date Selfie is a new term that has only been current in the last year or so and the poem appeals to a whole new generation of Scots speakers and writers. 

Lorna is a student of English, Creative Writing and Journalism at Strathclyde University. She has already been penning further poems in 'standard habbies', the form made so popular by Burns,  and we can confidently look forward to coming across more of Lorna's work as time goes by, 

I would like to thank Alan Bissett for making sure that an oldie like me was quick off the mark with this inspirational poem.

Tae a Selfie

Oh my Goad, am feelin great;
Aff tae the dance flair tae gyrate.
Oor kitchens lookin like a sea
Of glam an glitter.
Am clingin tae ma bevvy ticht
In case a slitter.

Sippin oan ma rum an juice;
A must admit, am feelin loose,
And dinnae wahnt tae hink aboot
The morras heid.
A pray an hope ahll be jist fine
Efter a feed.

Am lookin smashin; whit a stunner!
A drain ma gless doon in a wunner
An noo a really feel the need
Tae stert the show;
Grabbin ma wee phone fur snaps;
Were gid tae go.

A summon aw ma lassies through
An switch the camera tae front view;
An staun an gee ma ginger loacks 
A soart and fix.
We huddle roon an wait tae hear
The fast wee clicks.

A shuffle roon an change ma stance;
We dae some shoats an huv a dance,
A feel ma face is braw enough
Fur its ane shoot.
A stagger up and git a pal;
Am pished, nae doot.

Then in the moarn we congregate
An wae deep breaths we face oor fate,
An try tae fin oot whit the Hell 
We hink wint oan.
A drag ma erse oot of ma pit
An check ma phone.

But then wan photie gees me fright;
There must jist no huv bin gid light.
Git that oaf; ah look like shite!
Ah flap an plead.
But a ken theres jist nae point;
Its oan News Feed.

Theres mare oanline, a look sae silly;
Am staunin wae a blow-up wullie,
Ma cross-eyed heid is gazin
Intae time an space.
Aw shite, ah cannae quite believe
This fine disgrace.

A scrabble tae git them awa
But hawf ma freens huv seen them aw,
An noo a wish a hudnae been
Sae bloody steamin.
Here come the comments fae ma maw;
Ma cheeks are beaming.

Lorna Wallace