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edmorgantrust.bsky.social
The Edwin Morgan Trust
@edmorgantrust.bsky.social
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Trust of the first Scottish poet laureate, Edwin Morgan.
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edmorgantrust.bsky.social
🚀 A Home in Space: exploring Edwin Morgan’s concrete poetry
Sun 15 March | 11am–12pm | online | £5

An interactive workshop at this year’s StAnza festival led by Greg Thomas & Julie Johnstone, who will guide participants through Morgan’s speculative work.

edwinmorgantrust.com/2026/02/04/a...
A Home in Space: Selected Concrete, Visual and Sound Poetry
A Home in Space: Selected Concrete, Visual and Sound PoetryPre-order a copy from Reaktion Books Edited by Greg Thomas and Julie Johnstone, this volume brings together, for the first time, the full …
edwinmorgantrust.com
February 4, 2026 at 12:38 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
poemsonthetube.bsky.social
Poems on the Underground Celebrating 40 Years
Poem of the Week January 31st
The Loch Ness Monster's Song by Edwin Morgan
poemsontheunderground.org/the-loch-nes...
The Loch Ness Monster’s Song
Visit the post for more.
poemsontheunderground.org
January 31, 2026 at 10:25 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
agrayarchive.bsky.social
🌈 Queer History Month 🌈
Join our month-long digital screening of Of Us & Others by Maya Rose Edwards—intimate, anonymous queer conversations across Glasgow, exploring kinship, care & imagined futures. 🎥 1–28 February- link in bio to watch on our YouTube
February 1, 2026 at 4:39 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
“So what was Glasgow like to a young gay writer in that period … You don’t go silent. You circumvent, you encode, you enfabulate … You work by methods not unlike those used by dissidents in authoritarian regimes.”

—Edwin Morgan, “Transgression in Glasgow”
#LGBTplusHM 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️
asls.org.uk/publications...
Book cover: Edwin Morgan IN TOUCH WITH LANGUAGE A New Prose Collections 1950–2005 Edited by John Coyle and James McGonigal The cover image shows a photo of Edwin Morgan in three-quarters profile, taken by Marshall Walker circa 1975. Morgan is in his mid-fifties; he is wearing glasses with thick black frames, and looks pensively down and to the right. The photograph is covered by a riot of semi-transparent multicoloured swirls and shapes. I already felt myself to be ‘different’, and had had gay experiences, but without having the word ‘gay’ and without having much knowledge of the things I was increasingly drawn to. It was a time of silences and inhibitions and guilts and quests and mistakes and very gradual understanding. So what was Glasgow like to a young gay writer in that period from say the late 1930s through to the 1950s (I can’t speak about wartime Glasgow because I wasn’t there, I was abroad in the army from 1940 to 1946 – that’s another story, of which perhaps a little, later on). Physically, visually, the city was very different from what it is today after the massive stone-cleaning, smoke abatement, and general refurbishment of recent years. It was a dark city. I’d like to quote from a little article I recently wrote about this. The piece was written for a public brochure about Glasgow, but I quote it because it has some coded homosexual references. It’s called ‘Fog City’: Without being nostalgic about it, I have a strong recollection of the great Glasgow fogs of the decade after the Second World War. In the spruced-up city of today, these are now no more than memories, and no doubt thought of as a good riddance, but to a writer (or indeed any artist) dark cities can be as attractive as bright ones. At the end of the 1940s, Glasgow was still heavily industrialized, with many soot-blackened and grime-encrusted buildings, and with smoke pouring from thousands of coal-burning chimneys. It was also a city of unabashed and prolific smokers. And of course it is a northern city of early winter evenings. So its fogs could be spectacular. One night in 1947 or 1948 I was returning by train from London, and when I got into Central Station I could not understand why such a crowd of people was massed at the entrance. I soon found out why. Gordon Street was a silent wall of impenetrable grey. There were no buses, trams, taxis or cars to be seen or heard. It was a stricken, immobile place. No one could get home. I booked a room in the Central Hotel, and as I slipped between the sheets I reflected it was the first time I had stayed at a hotel in my own town: an experience! These fogs penetrated everywhere; in the cinemas each film looked like Quai des brumes, and the Golden Divans in Green’s Playhouse were more than usually seductive. The long cinema queues of those pre-booking days, snaking round whole blocks, huddled together as if afraid some segment might break off and be lost for ever. We did not curse the fog: it was simply one recurring phase of the environment. Half-sinister, half-romantic wanderings by the River Kelvin seemed incomplete unless the nose-prickling waves of an oncoming fog combined with the acrid but haunting smell of the scummy effluent on the water to fix a future memory unmodified by anything politically correct. (Moira Burgess, Reading Glasgow). Green’s Playhouse is a huge cinema, which was famous as a place of gay resort for many years; people came to it from far and near, and on a foggy night, when you could hardly see the screen, anything could and did happen. The management would periodically conduct a sudden blitz on the activities, using some of their better-looking staff as agents provocateurs, who would sit beside you, make advances, and if you responded would march you out to the foyer and declare that you were barred. You left it for a week or two, came back, and no one noticed. It was a great Glasgow institution, and there must have been many sad hearts when the building was demolished. Another reference in the article which would say more to some people than to others is the night scene by the River Kelvin: Kelvingrove Park was (and is) one of the main trolling areas after dark, and also, perhaps inevitably, a haunt of muggers, so my description of it as half-romantic and half-sinister contains or conceals that other resonance. Perhaps the fog that I used in that passage, though perfectly real, can also be taken as a metaphor. Gay contacts, gay friendships, were by no means unobtainable but took place in an atmosphere of secrecy, of deception and pretence and machination. Information was by word of mouth; there were no gay clubs or magazines or videos, and if any establishment such as a pub attracted a gay clientele it could never advertise the fact. The shadow of illegality, of the severe penalties of being caught (not only of imprisonment, but also social ostracism), hung like a cloud in the background all the time. I don’t forget how I happened to be in a cinema (not Green’s Playhouse!) at a time shortly after Sir John Gielgud had been arrested and charged with persistent importuning of male persons, and when his name appeared on the screen of a film that was being shown the audience uttered a hiss of disapproval. That was the climate of the period, and it meant that most gays, whether they wanted to or not, were leading double lives. And can I remind you that this situation lasted not until 1967, when the law was changed in England and Wales, but until 1980, when the separate Scottish legal system at last got round to a degree of liberalisation. So it was an oppressive time, and if you are a writer, a poet, you have to find ways and means of dealing with it. You don’t go silent. You circumvent, you encode, you enfabulate, you invent parallel or analogous worlds. You work by methods not unlike those used by dissidents in authoritarian regimes. From the 1950s onwards, I knew that I wanted somehow to write about that side of my life, and that side of my life in Glasgow and Scotland, and I developed my own strategies for doing so.
February 1, 2026 at 6:36 PM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
The 2026 Edwin Morgan Poetry Award is officially open for submissions 🎉🎉 If you’re a poet under 30 born, raised or currently living in Scotland and you have not yet published a full-length collection, we want to read your work!

Deadline: Monday 30 March

edwinmorgantrust.com/2021/11/15/a...
January 30, 2026 at 12:14 PM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
This Friday the 2026 Edwin Morgan Poetry Award opens for submissions! We’re thrilled to announce the fabulous panel judging this year’s award:

✨ Christine De Luca
✨ Roshni Gallagher
✨ Ryan Van Winkle
✨ Beth Frieden
✨ Janette Ayachi
✨ Stewart Sanderson

edwinmorgantrust.com/2026/01/26/e...
January 26, 2026 at 12:44 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
byleaveswelive.bsky.social
Congratulations to Karen Solie on winning the TS Eliot Prize for her most recent collection Wellwater, published by @picadorbooks.bsky.social

Karen Solie teaches for half the year at St Andrews University and lives the rest of her time in Canada. Karen is part of @northseapoets.bsky.social group.
January 20, 2026 at 1:45 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
Today, 13 January, is the Feast Day of St Mungo (AKA St Kentigern), patron saint of Glasgow. Edwin Morgan’s “Colloquy in Glaschu” imagines a conversation between St Mungo & St Columba.

From CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS, @carcanet.bsky.social 2020
#poem #poetry
1/6
www.carcanet.co.uk/cgi-bin/inde...
Colloquy in Glaschu by Edwin Morgan God but le son du cor, Columba sighed to Kentigern, est triste au fond silvarum! Frater, said Kentigern, I see no harm. J'aime le son du cor, when day has died, deep in the bois, and oystercatchers rise before the fowler as he trudges home and sermo lupi loosens the grey loam. À I’horizon lointain is paradise, abest silentium, le cor éclate – – et meurt, Columba mused, but Kentigern replied, renaît et se prolonge. The cell is filled with song. Outside, puer cantat. Veni venator sings the gallus kern. The saints dip startled cups in Mungo’s well.
January 13, 2026 at 1:36 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
goodk kkkkk unjam ingwe nches lass? start again goodk
lassw enche sking start again kings tart! again sorry…

—Edwin Morgan, “The Computer’s Second Christmas Card”
published in COLLECTED POEMS, @carcanet.bsky.social 1990
#poem #poetry #concretepoetry
www.carcanet.co.uk/978185754188...
(written in bright green text, in a monospaced font on a black background, to emulate an old CRT computer monitor; the text is divided up into blocks of five letters each) The Computer's Second Christmas Card by Edwin Morgan goodk kkkkk unjam ingwe nches lass? start again goodk lassw enche sking start again kings tart! again sorry goodk ingwe ncesl ooked outas thef? unmix asloo kedou tonth effff rewri tenow goodk ingwe ncesl asloo kedou tonth effff fffff unjam feast ofsai ntste venst efanc utsai ntrew ritef easto fstep toeso rryan dsons orry! start again good? yesgo odkin gwenc eslas looke dout? doubt wrong track start again goodk ingwe ncesl asloo kedou tonth efeas tofst ephph phphp hphph unjam phphp repea tunja mhphp scrub carol hphph repea tscru bcaro lstop subst itute track merry chris tmasa ndgoo dnewy earin 1699? check digit banks orryi n1966 endme ssage
December 16, 2025 at 12:50 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
sarahkudirka.bsky.social
Treat yersel with a listen to this!
edmorgantrust.bsky.social The Edwin Morgan Trust @edmorgantrust.bsky.social · Dec 16
Orphean sprig! Melting baby! Warm chihuahua!

#EdwinMorgan reading “Trio”, published in The Second Life (1968) and recorded by Ewan McVicar in 1990 at Tower Studio, Glasgow 🎄❄️
December 16, 2025 at 12:17 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
rhonabrown.bsky.social
This is THE Christmas poem for me, in its pure joy and wish for better things in the new year. 'Trio' sums up Edwin Morgan's wild optimism, which many of us need now...

Monsters of the year
go blank, are scattered back,
can't bear this march of three...
www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/trio/
December 16, 2025 at 11:44 AM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
Orphean sprig! Melting baby! Warm chihuahua!

#EdwinMorgan reading “Trio”, published in The Second Life (1968) and recorded by Ewan McVicar in 1990 at Tower Studio, Glasgow 🎄❄️
December 16, 2025 at 11:29 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
jollymerry
hollyberry
jollyberry
merryholly
happyjolly
jollyjelly
jellybelly
bellymerry
hollyheppy
jollyMolly
marryJerry
merryHarry
hoppyBarry…

—Edwin Morgan, “The Computer’s First Christmas Card”
first published in THE SECOND LIFE, @edinburghup.bsky.social 1968
#poem #poetry #concretepoetry
(written in bright green text, in a monospaced font on a black background, to emulate an old CRT computer monitor) The Computer's First Christmas Card by Edwin Morgan jollymerry hollyberry jollyberry merryholly happyjolly jollyjelly jellybelly bellymerry hollyheppy jollyMolly marryJerry merryHarry hoppyBarry heppyJarry bobbyheppy berryjorry jorryjolly moppyjelly Mollymerry Jerryjolly bellyboppy jorryhoppy hollymoppy Barrymerry Jarryhappy happyboppy boppyjolly jollymerry merrymerry merrymerry merryChris ammerryasa Chrismerry asMERRYCHR YSANTHEMUM
December 15, 2025 at 1:02 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
thisismyglasgow.bsky.social
A poem by Edwin Morgan inscribed into a flagstone on Candleriggs in Glasgow, just outside the City Halls. Born in 1920, Morgan became the city's first poet laureate in 1999.

Cont./

#glasgow #streetart #poetry #edwinmorgan #glasgowcoatofarms #streetpoetry
December 9, 2025 at 1:19 PM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
... so that our first kiss
was like the winter morning moon, and as you shifted in my arms
it was the sea changing the shingle that changes it
as if for ever ...

— from ‘The Unspoken’ by #EdwinMorgan, published in The Second Life (EUP, 1968) 🌒
But Glasgow days and grey weathers, when the rain beat on the bus shelter and you leaned slightly against me, and the back of your hand touched my hand in the shadows, and nothing was said, when your hair grazed mine accidentally as we talked in a cafe, yet not quite accidentally, when I stole a glance at your face as we stood in a doorway and found I was afraid of what might happen if I should never see it again, when we met, and met, in spite of such differences in our lives, and did the common things that in our feeling became extraordinary, so that our first kiss was like the winter morning moon, and as you shifted in my arms it was the sea changing the shingle that changes it as if for ever (but we are bound by nothing, but like smoke to mist or light in water we move, and mix) — O then it was a story as old as war or man, and although we have not said it we know it, and although we have not claimed it we do it, and although we have not vowed it we keep it, without a name to the end.
December 8, 2025 at 11:58 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
byleaveswelive.bsky.social
Computer’s First Christmas Card: a Poetry/Coding workshop

Thur 4 Dec
Mitchell Library, Glasgow.
Free

An introduction to coding and poetry with Michael Mullen and Claire Quigley.

There will also be a chance to see some items from the Edwin Morgan collection.

www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/computers-...
Computer's First Christmas Card: a Poetry/Coding workshop
Poetry Coding Workshop with the Edwin Morgan Collection. An introduction to coding and poetry with Michael Mullen and Claire Quigley.
www.eventbrite.co.uk
December 2, 2025 at 11:38 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
Computer’s First Christmas Card: a Poetry/Coding workshop
4 Dec, Glasgow – free

Inspired by Edwin Morgan’s poem, attendees at this Poetry/Coding workshop will code a festive poem & leave with a handmade Christmas card! No experience of coding or poetry necessary
www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/computers-...
Computer's First Christmas Card: a Poetry/Coding workshop
Poetry Coding Workshop with the Edwin Morgan Collection. An introduction to coding and poetry with Michael Mullen and Claire Quigley.
www.eventbrite.co.uk
November 24, 2025 at 3:33 PM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
What was your wish? You wanted more?
It’s granted! Up there is a store
Of light. It’s breaking now in showers
Not of stars but meteors . . .

✨ “Leonids” by #EdwinMorgan, published in Cathures (Carcanet, 2002)
Look now, look quick – a shooting star! Make your wish! It’s very far From here to where the active light Set out and streaked across a night In Glasgow’s greatly dark November To die there, a supernal ember. What was your wish? You wanted more? It’s granted! Up there is a store Of light. It’s breaking now in showers Not of stars but meteors, Spark after spark, scattering, dying, You could send your wishes flying In thousands, born, reborn, delighting To be part of that bright sighting Which disappears and yet appears Again in our unlonely years.
November 18, 2025 at 10:16 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
gregchthomas.bsky.social
Call for papers for a special issue of the *Journal of British and Irish Innovative Poetry* on concrete & visual poetries. Edited by Colin Herd & Greg Thomas. 250-300-word abstracts to [email protected] by 10 Jan 2026
poetry.openlibhums.org/news/867/

Please repost and share!
October 31, 2025 at 1:11 PM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
A spOoky poem from Edwin Morgan’s final collection, Dreams and Other Nightmares. Happy Hallowe’en!

— “Horsemen” published here in Centenary Selected Poems (Carcanet 2020)
Horsemen It was late, a wintry evening, and I was in the old flat looking out at everything familiar, all the details of every neighbouring house quite clear under streetlights when are the corner by the lamp I saw them – horses and their men talking together, their hoof clatter and whispering (the Horseman's word I'd read about but cannot speak), Their great flanks, fetlocks, ancient and out of place in Glasgow now, under the street lamp at my corner where they should not have been. And as I stared at them talking together all at once every light went out and I was left in darkness with that sound of hooves, beating, retreating –
October 31, 2025 at 11:39 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
Rubbing a glistening circle
on the steamed-up window I framed
a pheasant in a field of mist…

—Edwin Morgan, “Aberdeen Train”
published in CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS, @carcanet.bsky.social 2020
#poem #poetry
www.carcanet.co.uk/cgi-bin/inde...
Edwin Morgan Aberdeen Train Rubbing a glistening circle on the steamed-up window I framed a pheasant in a field of mist. The sun was a great red thing somewhere low, struggling with the milky scene. In the furrows a piece of glass winked into life, hypnotized the silly dandy; we hooted past him with his head cocked, contemplating a bottle-end, and this was the last of October, a Chinese moment in the Mearns.
October 30, 2025 at 12:29 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
asls.org.uk
In Translation: A Scottish-Slovenian Poetry Exchange
7 Nov @uofglasgow.bsky.social – free

The @edmorgantrust.bsky.social brings together four poets working across Scottish Gaelic, Scots, & Slovene for a two-part exchange in Edinburgh & Ljubljana
events.bookitbee.com/smlc/in-tran...
In Translation: A Scottish-Slovenian Poetry Exchange
In Translation: A Scottish-Slovenian Poetry Exchange
events.bookitbee.com
October 30, 2025 at 5:27 PM
edmorgantrust.bsky.social
Next Friday: In Translation: A Scottish-Slovenian Poetry Exchange – poets working across Gaelic, Scots & Slovene will share translations of each other’s work & insights into their creative process.

Register to attend in person: shorturl.at/6nNtz
Or email [email protected] to join online!
October 29, 2025 at 2:01 PM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
joannagavins.bsky.social
100 years today since the birth of Ian Hamilton Finlay. Happy birthday IHF.
A picture of Ian Hamilton Finlay flying paper planes at his home, Stonypath.
October 28, 2025 at 8:08 AM
Reposted by The Edwin Morgan Trust
byleaveswelive.bsky.social
Today is the centenary of Ian Hamilton Finlay: one of Scotland's most innovative poets and artists. In August the SPL collaborated with the Little Sparta Trust for an afternoon of poetry at Little Sparta featuring Christopher Crawford, Nasim Rebecca Asl, Nazaret Ranea & Janette Ayachi #IHFcentenary
October 28, 2025 at 9:31 AM