The austere, honed-down style of George Bruce (1909-2002), the Fraserburgh-born poet, is already seen in this early poem from his first collection, Sea Talk.

The tension between sea and land, between man and the challenge of his environment, remained leitmotifs of his poetry. A lifetime’s output of thoughtful writing, dating from childhood to his nineties, is pulled together in the impressive volume Today Tomorrow, his Collected Poems from 1933 to 2000 (Polygon, £14.99 paperback).

 

INHERITANCE

 

This which I write now

Was written years ago

Before my birth

In the features of my father.

~

It was stamped

In the rock formations

West of my hometown.

Not I write,

~

But, perhaps William Bruce,

Cooper.

Perhaps here is his hand

Well articled to his trade.

~

Then though my words

Hit out

An ebullition from

City or flower,

~

There not my faith,

These the paint

Smeared upon

The inarticulate,

~

The salt-crusted sea-boot,

The red-eyed mackerel,

The plate shining with herring,

And many men,

~

Seamen and craftsmen and curers,

And behind them

The protest of hundreds of years,

The sea obstinate against the land.