Tag: poem

The Rowan Tree – A Poem

This one is about the Rowan Tree which was in my Grandfather’s garden in Castle Drive, Kilbirnie It is likely still there.

I wanted the poem to catch that idea that some people  relish the shade but then complain about the darkness 🙂

In the shade of Grandpa’s house
There stood a Rowan Tree
Where my Brother tried to climb
With Rosalyn and me

Every day my Grandpa came
Admired it´s towering boughs
While we as children playing there
Saw darkened twigs and crows

Shadows hung upon his life
With towering darkened power
Yet we as children plain could see
Their withering every hour

Its leaves held back the sunshine light
Its branches stern with years
Sitting with his chair and pipe
It calmed away his fears

Yet we as children playing in sight
Saw only twigs and leaves
Revealing more of sky to us
Than he could ever see

We pointed up at shafts of light
Throughout the darkened power
Whilst he preferred the shaded glade
To pass the wakened hour

We saw sun and endless days
Upon his chair he sat
Despite the passing years it stood
The tree was sound at heart
 

Auld Simon´s Prayer – A poem for Lochwinnoch

Auld Simon is an unused Church in Lochwinnoch, Renfrewshire, Scotland


O gentle bell, which rests within the tower;

The clock is wound to guard each sleeping hour,

Upon the Johnshill Brae where birds take flight,   

O Presence, Keep us sober, safe, tonight.

O shadows long, which cast upon the gates,

Darkened thoughts of hopes deferred and hate,

Love, illuminate my thought with golden threads, 

And give me purer, higher, better paths to tread.

Of youth who drink and dance upon the tombs,

Amidst the birds as sunset hour looms,
 
Gentle Love who always knows me best,                                          Keep me here within your gentle breast.

If your old brow does gusts of snow impart 

A wintry  breeze does surely hit the heart, 

Love, show me snowdrops during that cold spell,  

And fill my ears with dear Auld Simon´s bell.

Rothesay War Memorial Poem

1.

Amid a scene in perfect green where travellers stop to rest.

Stands an angel looming down upon the corner’s breast.

Sacred rights and names forlorn she guards lest we forget.

2.

Yet somewhere upon another shore by boats and crashing waves.

Another Rothesay these men meet instead of ending days.

And in the splendid sunshine comes a group to lay a wreath, yet what memories do we have for children to bequeath?

3.

Of death and war upon the pit? Amidst the battle cries? Or angels pointing upward when we lay down our sighs.

Away from death and pity trips with fake smiles and flowers sad.

And turn to love the neighbour who needs a word so glad.

If a shadow of this place comes rolling by your mind, it serves as a reminder to give and love sublime.

 

 

 

The Waiting Hour – A Sunset in Paisley

Oh the joy of the waiting hour at sunset, upon the White Cart as she shines her yellow light to say goodnight

Another moon comes and shines on the same river, like two old men, never to meet.

The hours pass and the children play and scream, while the ghosts of the Abbey chants of the night still heard, yet unheard.

The Town Hall clock lends its eyes and chimes the 9th hour,

The young men stumble home from the pub and the old men light up their cigarettes for their walk home.

faded memories of Victorians in shaded statues, casting  long shadows and tales.

Laus Deo – it is done, and higher we are lifted.

 

 

 

Poem at Dalry Cemetery June 2019.

At Sunset. Dalry Cemetery.

O gracious peace and silence, where voices lose their power.

The setting sun brings darkness to the last awaiting hours,

With Lords and paupers  stilled, together till the light

Where ‘er they are in consciousness, God speed to them tonight.

By Biggarts’ son or Uncle John. Youth and age does lie,

For the wall between the old and new, lies strong in earthly eyes.

But somewhere else upon the shores, Dalry does rise again,

where no walls or  tombs pervade, religion, class or kin,

And as our thoughts rise higher, away from bricks and stone.

That new Dalry will one by one come to take us home.

There at the crossings full of folk who long ago were ken’t.

Again the tears of union declares the time well spent.

 

Lilac Poem

Lilac

Last night I dreamt of Lilac trees,

Upon the Garnock Stream,

amid the thorns and briars thick

a purple colour beamed

 

I thought about the folk who came

and chanced upon this sight

perhaps ancestors, long since gone

left it burning bright

 

Perhaps a bird did carry it

from far and distant lands

or from a child´s hands it fell

and grew to proudly stand

 

Or from the Castle seeds did blow

across the glade and vine

to where the lovers meet in quiet

with bodies deep entwined

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#poem About A Rowan Tree, #kilbirnie #northayrshire

I’ve been writing poetry about Kilbirnie and the area for many years now. You can see all of them here on my site. This one is about the Rowan Tree which was in my Grandfather’s garden in Castle Drive. Its likely still there.

In the shade of Grandpa’s house
There stood a Rowan Tree
Where my Brother tried to climb
With Rosalyn and me

Every day my Grandpa came
Admired towering boughs
While we as children playing there
Saw darkened twigs and crows

Shadows hung upon his life
With towering darkened power
Yet we as children plain could see
Their withering every hour

Its leaves held back the sunshine light
Its branches stern with years
Sitting with his chair and pipe
It calmed away his fears

Yet we as children playing in sight
Saw only twigs and leaves
Revealing more of sky to us
Than he could ever see

We pointed up at shafts of light
Throughout the darkened power
Whilst he preferred the shaded glade
To pass the wakened hour

We saw sun and endless days
Upon his chair he sat
Despite the passing years it stood
The tree was sound at heart

#glengarnock #poem #northayrshire

If Glengarnock were a nightingale
All day it’s song would sing
Around the houses, through the streets
Oh the joy that it would bring

It’s tiny feet upon the roofs
Of buildings, trees and lawns
Spreading joy on little wings
And chirping at the dawn

Songs of hope and thanksgiving
For all the good thats here
From Auchengree to Barkip farm
With eyes so crisp and clear

And by the station trees it sits
For all the passers by
None can silence joy and hope
As the bird soars in the sky

On the coldest winter morn
Or by the frozen burn
The bird will chirp its peace and love
At every waking turn

And on the happy days of spring
While children take to rest
The little bird at Longbar farm
Will nestle in its nest

#northayrshire poem about the river Garnock #scotland #kilbirnie

River Garnock

Turn ye, turn ye hands of time
Like a clock about to chime
Running through a hundred towns
Claiming lives and rings and crowns

Giving life to work and mills
With your spout deep in the hills
Jacob´s Well I could not find
My elders left no trace, no sign

Then in rage you burst your banks
People curse you, none give thanks
Wounded like an open knife
Knox´s Mill you still give life