Brightly burns the glow of friends
constant, true and pure
No one can claim he has no kin
where Love always endures
A lamp that´s lit by Kin´s red flame
of blood spilt on the earth
for need of Love, a better life
on your land boats did berth
The boys who glowed within the light
were taken in your arms
for in the darkness their was hope
of new lives safe from harm
So to friends on distant shores
for many and the few
and a toast to those we cannot name
lost in the sea of blue
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
One thought I had of you today
As people crowded by
Of sending soldiers on there way
Till 1945
Mothers kissed and lover’s words
Then anxious notes you passed
Bringing news of hero’s deaths
Or home bound boys at last
Pavements wet with women’s tears
For boys, to welcome home
While others sat in darkened rooms
Both silent and alone
Then later in your ageing years
Cemented floors did bloom
With flowers, lovely colours bright
While mighty engines boomed
Then darkness came with Beeching’s words
Your branches they were slain
For all your older dearest friends
Were killed for London’s gain
Now you stand with empty home
No soldiers pass your way
A house lies derelict above
Where once a guardsman stayed
You carried folk to far off lands
To meet their boats and planes
Babies laughing, children coughed
Sheltering from smoggy rains
There’s few stand now in early morn
Upon your tired brow
Yet ne’r can match those wartime scenes
Of hundreds, cheering crowds.
