Exploring poetry as a form of getting to the point, is an opportunity to play with words. Creatively, sensitively, passionately.
Poetry offers a chance to be both crystal clear and challengingly opaque. It captures movement and moments, feelings and curiosities. When working with people and place are in your thoughts there are no poetry limits to your dreams and ambitions – you cant get dismissed for being too creative. Poetic movement does though let you detach from confusion to clarity. Working alone or in collaboration. Keep working at it untill you are content with the story it tells about you and your community, maybe even why you want to tell it – in a few or many more words. Less is, generally, more! Get it out there. Those words can be your big plan, your big aspiration, your trek ahead. These bundles of words include samples of people inspired moments. Hmmmmmm.
Oneness, Reason, Compassion,
Sincerity, Truth, Honesty,
Step up, choose your ride,
Fairness, Authenticity, Loyalty,
Courage, Justice… stay on the near side,
Become who you are, who you can be,
The Art of Existence, never adequacy,
If the word is ethics, and its meaning is justice,
And grand deeds found amongst us, in our people,
Help us to miss madness, sadness,
Find contentment, gladness.
Stop tilting at windmills, atop an ass,
Time devouring all around us,
Carousel turns, dipping and rising,
I don’t lose all of my races,
As I ride my mounts to my ticker line.
The flag falls.
It's Been A While
Ah’ve been here for ower 70 Years, an’ Ah can mind the day we left
The day Jimmy Shaw rode doon the street
Safe in, wavin’ tae his folks above the shop
Proud as any young man ye’d meet
But aye it’s been a while
But aye it’s been a while
We’ve come a long way, an Ah’ve no been hame
But have thocht o’ you often a’ the same
Some who Ah know are off tae meet their maker
And some who who are hingin’ oan an’ enjoyin’ a wee dram
An some who Ah’ve never set ma eyes oan
You are the fresh corn o’ the dale
But Ah was weel travelled as Ah ken some o’ you hae been
Fechtin wars in foreign parts
African sands o’ gold and in French fields o’ green
But Ah mind yin time in Normandy, where it a’ came back tae me
The bodies lyin’ a’ around, the flooers o’ your forest a’ wee’d
The sense in it Ah couldnae see
But then up went the shout clear and loud
‘Jeddart’s here’ he shouted proud
‘Bonnie Lauderdale’ Ah shouted up Ah full stood
‘Aye, Gala’s here an’ aw’, the pipes and drums they did us proud
Aye but no afore the shout o’ ‘guid auld Hawick’ split the sky
Then Kelsae, Langholm, Duns, Coldstream and Selkirk were shouted high
We as Borderers stood side by side and we thought of home and of you
Sure all Australians but that day Borderers true
An’ Ah closed my eyes for a second and Ah could see the mother and child
On that Royal and Ancient banner of blue
And true on that day some of our brothers died
The band didn’t play Waltzing Matilda
But as Ah write Ah want to know that you, you all here tonight
Arrived frae a’ toons, friendship true
To all ma friends in Lauderdale a special g’day to you,
Ah guess Ah don’t’ know you, but Ah think Ah really do
You’ll forgive an auld exile a tear as he pens this tale
Aye Ah’m awa’, but Ah’m no’
Aye it’s been a while.
Yours sincerely Bonnie Lauderdale
Hush, Nae Band
Hear whats no’ there,
Nae boom boom boom,
Nae stane oan thir land,
No yet dugs barkin, weans larkin, freends parkin’, bacon sparkin’,
Tyin’ ties, rollin’ colours, peened hats, kissin’ mothers,
A’done, th’shinin’ boots, leather, flasks and silvers,
Kerchiefs, breakfast beer taken, prood badges, peened wi’ blethers,
Picters dusted, memories ca’ed, excited friends a’ gather .
Noo , ca’ the Band……..
Base, boom, boom, boom!!
Till time is ca’ed,
Oh Sic’ a day!
Sic’ a day mon!
Noo, hush again, listen, hear it,
Till we ca’ again.
I love both of my children, one hundred percent,
How does that work?
You are my happiest and my saddest day,
You are my tears and my laughter,
My once upon a time and my, um, happy ever after,
Hmm, that’s a bit twee,
Sank to the bottom, roared to the rafters,
All with you both,
How come we laughed, we cried,
How come we saw birth, then died,
Needed truths and lies,
Adventures, time goes, flies,
A Seat in the Museum
Today, 2 seats along, sat a man,
Of long wispy white hair,
Max Wall sides,
Berghaus jacket, 15 litre sac, sensible shoes,
On his own, alone, with himself,
Clicking with the computer in the museum,
Affirming anything, everything,
Building his glass case.
Now I see there are only two seats to go.
Enlightenment and War
Plus Ca Change…
Far north, I sit in, on, a field,
Where once a battle in war took place,
When in Edinburgh, at the same damned time,
Enlightened men, talking of high things,
In the School of Common Sense, they claimed,
Supped wine and ale through hot air and curiosities,
And now the wind whistles through the stubble of this field,
As I lie inhaling the scented remains,
Of the day where, inches below me,
They fertilise this land at what cost?
There is a whiff, today, of something the same,
In the Capital, polished, bleached seats of reason,
In the, supposedly, peoples home of enlightened thoughts,
While outside, in our war zone,
A battle rages, a war,
People are lost,
And the remains smell of the familiar.
Supping wine and ale through hot air with toothless curiosity.
If Seneca. A
If I knew then what I know now,
I’d have kissed you,
Longer, softer, slower and deeper.
These things I know now,
I now know,
Don’t last forever.
Rich Or Poor
Never had the choice to be rich or poor,
But when I popped out, there were, skulking in the background,
Beyond the close up, temporary, smiling faces,
Grey faced, grey suited guys,
Opening but mostly closing, shutting doors.
In my face.
Whiles, they checked out the weight of my spoon.
They directed me down the road more travelled,
Following the herd, reminding me that this is what will be, meant to be,
While, with a sparkled eye, lopsided smirk,
Whispering to a few that,
‘Maybe, just maybe, for you,
There can be a different road, if you behave.’ He frowned.
The man in the suit said he would let me know,
He was optimistic, he said, as he departed.
Further down the road, I heard from someone else,
In an identical suit,
That I’d missed my chance,
So I stopped and asked why?
‘Because, just because, don’t ask questions,
Now, run along, back on the drove road’.
Patting my head, shouting ‘In bye’.
Damn, I stood my ground,
Damn your eyes,
Damn your cowardice,
Damn your suits,
Damn your lies.
Damn your two tailed coin.
Tumbled down the other road as they ran to stop me,
In their grey shapeless suits.
Turning, towards them, looking in their pale eyes,
‘Don’t think about going there, back away,
I’ll pull your suits to the ground,
And trample them into this road.
The Spare Chair
All hail, a noble rescue,
Ah, Bless you, bless you, bless you.
The seat of so many celebrated,
Rumps of human kind, leave their mark,
A mark on the spare chair.
Van Gogh captured one,
When he would stare, stare, stare,
To see beyond the chair, chair, chair
But no ochre yellow or tobacco pipe so grand,
Matches the framed nylon, brown, tugged and bland,
That supported generations of those who must not stand,
And those who couldn’t.
Glass coach and horses danced from Gran’s cabinet,
Aye patient, fed and watered yet,
And minded moments are cried aroond the room,
Past humiliations, desperations, glint in our eyes,
Shortie ‘n bun pressed to hand,
Another yellow glassed, golden,
Soon to vanish, but oh!
One song, one singer, no need o’ a band,
In this safe place to sit, to nod, to bandstand.
All ages blessed in rooms across our land.
Then Shoo the horses, store the carriage,
Brush the crumbs, God, bless this home and marriage,
The chair journeys home, to the place of rest,
The weans room, by the ‘robe, near the chest,
Waiting for the call that demands supporting role once more,
What? Just a chair dustin’ in the corner by the door?
No, a throne that’s rescued generations across the land,
‘Bring the spare chair doon!’, will be the cry!!
For here, in this home, nae need tae stand.
We Are All In It Together
‘Yes old chap it’s difficult’,
Said a millionaire,
And we are all going to feel the pinch,
Said a millionaire,
Sooner or later,
Said a millionaire,
We will have to give up something
For the greater good.
One less home, he said,
One homeless, I said.
Food for thought, he said,
Thoughts of food, I said.
‘We’re all in it together,’
HIs bucket has a fur lined inner,
I have a hole in mine, dear,
Lies are… what you tell me.
And an Old Lady died listening to,
Dead cold, cold, Dead.
‘We are all in it together.’
Thanks For Coming!
Thanks for comin’.
From airts ’n places,
Hello again…why the long faces….?
After the times we’ve had,
The adventures found, the journeys,
To the best, the greatest of places.
No need to hang down dog, horsey face, stare at the floor,
Counting the screws in the name plates once more,
Horsey faces? For different places,
We all failed yet rallied and won,
And together chased good graces,
Laughed and cried, laughed again,
When another crashed from The TEN.
We carried each others pieces, put them back together,
When everything and nothing mattered, weathered the weather,
You, just you….and me.
No home, no car, no toys, no TV,
No celebrity, no power, no Julia Roberts voices,
You, me and what we have – our joined up choices,
To love or not to love – that’s what the question should be,
You know the answer,
It’s in the heart,
It’s in the place that won’t die away,
Sun, cold, storm says all we’ll say,
That I am yours and you’re mine,
Will be ‘till the end of our time,
Time doesn’t end, proof here today,
All fragments, my love, affection
Hey, we did it our way…
Threads of moments, broken apart,
Shattered, broken, ruined?
Not our heart!
And if any of you have the grace to nod my way today,
From your heart, I want you to say,
That if he did one thing, wi’ no hassle, no fuss,
He knew he had the great fortune to be one, be part of us.
And though pierced by arrows and broken, in two,
Shattered yet mended – we are the glue,
When the house is gone,
Let it be felt, hear our heart in song,
It’s today, tomorrow, forever more,
The laughs, celebrations, life’s swinging doors,
Our heart, our heart, our heart,
Is in all of these places.
So again, my friends,
I ask, with ultimate respect,
Why the long faces?
Majestic, screamed silent, by,
Me, holding breath, wide eyed,
It’s gone, in a Royal flash,
Exhale to the Fisher King bird,
Grannie's Should Run The World
Cooree in, bairn, cooree in,
Cooree in tae ma’ breest,
It’s the maist ah c’n dae darlin’,
An’ it’s the least.
Sh, shoosh, shoosh, the tumbling stones,
Heaven here, walking alone,
Sand, seaweed, old fish bones,
This is the way to be,
Secret world, sky to sea,
My people, these places, our possibilities,
Big animal, swaying, watching over me,
This is the way to be.
Salut, Maslow! In Kirkton Muir
Bubble ‘n squeak,
With the spirit, lamp, to give us light
Under a tin roof that kept out the night.
Unstated love that hugged us tight,
Beech’n birch shooshing the air
Blowing in on tomorrows moments,
Pump water to the 6 by 4
Blue gas, a florin, rests on the floor
Drink, eat, warm and safe,
In a fresh new world,
And a blessed, simple grace.
Whiles ’times, it just works,
The whole o’it,
The line ’n it,
The word o’t,
The question o’t?,
The wow!’n it.
The tear in’t,
The cheer in’t.
The leavin’ in’t,
The arriving’ in’t.
Now ye’ve read it,
Tho’, you’ll never ‘a full stop it..’
Yer secrets in’t.
When Apples Fall Up
When apples fall up,
From the tree,
When it rains frogs,
Scotrail apologies seem sincere,
We hear meeyowing dogs.
Men tell ye what time they came home,
Women agree your bum looks big in it.
One armed man claps a thunder,
Fill the hole before digging it.
Politicians tell the truth, eye to eye,
There’s only meat in Gus’s pie,
Wave your arms, off you fly,
No more bombs on Allepo. Aye?
There is a heaven when you die?
Cut Fruit dining with Klueless Klux Klan,
After you, really, said driver of the white van.
Rich confess their returns were fiction, we’re due tax.
Prime minister ‘outraged’ from his council house in Halifax.
Food banks close, needed homes stay open,
The games legacy is not just for sportsmen.
The sky shines green, the grass dulls blue,
Burnmill flows uphill, one and one ain’t two.
Doesn’t rain in Scotia, Mrs. Cullucoidus don’t bite,
Oor government cares for locals, aye, right!
Theres nae sense in’t, joy in’t.
A tree in oor forest fell today,
Downed, scythe man had the say.
Wrong season, too early, wi’ time left to play,
But fields are bled, he mowed his hay.
Friends asking why?
What do I say?
Nae sense, nae guilt, nae cause, nae blame.
Any truth in the world?
Aye, salt in tears,taste the same.
Cruelly, brother, yet wonderfully, we can say,
Tomorrow, is another growing day.
A new moment….all mine.
Him I touched, third generation brushed,
Blessed I am,
One of the first touches he has.
For sure, s’fine.
For days will come, when he touches breast, milk and warmth,
He will grow on it.
Touches blanket he will warm in it.
Touches toy, he will play with it.
Touches hot, he will cry with it…
Touches cold, he will question it.
Touches sharp, he’ll bleed with it, yet sing free with it
Touches friendship, he will love, commit to it.
Touches hearts, embrace, cherish it.
Touches my hand, walk safely with it,
Touches danger, deal with it.
Touches base, glad of it, remember it.
Touches bridge, cross it.
Touches love, will love it.
Touches new life, he will ask “ Too much?”
Touches wisdom, he’ll use it.
Touches you, he will respect it.
Touches life path, he will run it,
Touches small hand, he will protect and walk with it.
Touches you, when you need it.
Touches tomorrow he will bless it.
Touches his finishing line, he’ll celebrate it.
And when he touches a place beyond……
Be excited, for he’ll smile for you,
And for all the touches ahead of you.
Where E’r You Are
Be happy this Christmas,
Where e’r you are,
Happy, peaceful Christmas.