Biography

I am an Associate Editor at The Scruffy Dog Review, a literary journal of fiction and poetry, and I have published short stories, poems, non-fiction articles and chapbooks in both print and online publications.

My first chapbook, Fringe Fantastic: The Poet's Experience of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, was published in December 2005 to critical acclaim. Poolside Poetry (and other tales of Cyprus) followed in March 2007.

I have published three e-books of poetry; Brick by Brick in April 2005, Silly Poems for Wee People Vol.1 in March 2006, and Selektion in May 2007.

I live in Edinburgh with my wife and daughter.

My website is at: www.colingalbraith.co.uk

Samples

From Fringe Fantastic...

NATIONAL PORTRAIT

tattooed warriors
in kilts and sporrans
chant in time
to ancient beats

to drums and skirls
they dance and jig
in the shadow of
the National Gallery

on the door of which
a small sign reads;

quiet please



FESTIVAL TV

in a coffee shop
by St. Andrews Square
I sit in the window
frothy coffee in my hand

behind me the staff
shout out fast orders
to clear the line
of thirsty customers

people pass the window
and sometimes they look
at me, looking at them
like a silent movie

a moment to relax
from festival bustle
the street outside
like festival TV



LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

I saw you standing, watching,
like a portrait with eyes, that
follow me round the room

I look around to make sure
it is me you set your gaze on
or if I am but one of many

I move closer
see the beauty in your eyes
pearls of blue diamond
shining crystal clear

your longing kindness
reaches out to me
your virgin aura
pale skin, white as milk
pulls me in, helpless

I’m falling in love
entranced by your power
I drift towards you

drop a coin into your box

you curtsy and smile
then look away

I feel used

like you only wanted me
for my money

I wish you would look at me
just one more time
the way you did before



From Poolside Poetry...

EVENING ON THE BALCONY

like a throbbing ear infection
the tree insects call out
every night at dusk

a rhythmic gyration
of grating chords
echoing throughout
hotels and gardens
streets and hills

thousands of them
all in time
like a well-trained army
of invisible beasties



DROUGHT

writing on my notepad
beside the swimming pool
a drop of sweat falls
from my half-burnt nose

I never felt it transpire
no inkling of its intention
it hung for several moments
like words trapped in my mind

splash!
blue-water ink
runs over my scribbles
like a drop of the Med
on drought-ridden land



G-STRING IN THE WRONG PLACE

attention
suddenly distracted

old fat woman
with silver hair
bends over by the pool

topless
she leans forward
pink g-string
cutting in

breasts
swinging low

it's a view I find
strangely compelling
and it's this above all
that scares me most

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.