Wild Women of a Certain Age

About the Book: 

From exuberant poems celebrating womanhood, to poems smouldering like small angry flames for women and girls who’ve been silenced, to poems of love and intimacy, Gibson’s writing is at once modern and timeless. So much so that Wild Women has achieved a Certain Age of its own, celebrating its 21st anniversary in 2021.

These poems spring from taxis, supermarkets, long car drives through the wind and rain. They spring from fantasies, daydreams, nightmares. They spring from a woman embracing life with passion, wit and humanity. But most of all they spring from love.

Yes, sisters, now the time has come
to claim our bodies for ourselves.
For in our silver hair, our well-filled thighs,
in those laughter lines that crowd our eyes –
we live, we are alive.

Reviews: 

Intoxicating, tender, at times devastating. These poems still sing with a ferocious love, a necessary rage. ALI WHITELOCK

Blessèd be Magi Gibson for the country hath need of such a voice – made in Scotland from girders. CENCRATUS, on the original edition of Wild Women of a Certain Age

About the Author:

MAGI GIBSON grew up in a small town near Glasgow. As the coal pits closed down her horizons expanded, and she eventually realized it was okay for the local slater’s daughter to write as well as read poetry. She was joint winner of the Scotland on Sunday/Women 2000 Poetry Prize. Her first collection was nominated for a Saltire Best First Book Award. Her poems have been widely published including in Modern Scottish Women Poets(Canongate), Scottish Love Poems (Canongate), The Edinburgh Book of Twentieth Century Scottish Poetry, (Edinburgh University Press), New Writing Scotland, and other anthologies. She has held several Scottish Arts Council Fellowships and one Royal Literary Fund Fellowship. She held a writing residency with the Gallery of Modern Art in Glasgow, working on the much-praised Rebelland exhibition, and was Reader in Residence with Glasgow Women’s Library. She was the first Makar of the City of Stirling in 500 years. Several poetry collections, children’s novels, and a couple of plays later, she still dreams of new horizons. And no way would she ever wash Hugh MacDiarmid’s Socks.