Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Spirituality Blog, Uncategorized

Poem About The Bing (Fudstone, Kilbirnie)

The bing was a huge mound of gravel and stone which was left there after the housing estate was built in the 1950s. It was replaced with a kids play area in the 1980s. The other Warriors bing in the Largs Hills was presumably called that because of where the Battle of Largs took place,

O the years upon the bing, with cousin Margaret children played,

Climbing up with all our power by Newhouse drive where people stayed,

Amid the thorns and grey cement there seemed a moment, time well spent,

And sliding down the gravel slope, I skinned my knees without a hope,

My grannie waiting at the door, with borax, plasters by the score.

O the hills we thought were steep, when now an older life we keep,

Mountains, slopes upon our minds, perhaps a bing of different kind,

Climbing o’er our darker thoughts, just like the thistles we did trod,

Lessons from the bing well learnt, of my granny’s soothing balm

O how that Love returns to me, and brings with it a sense of calm,

And behind the trees sat Warrior’s bing, perhaps a sign of future years,

With bigger slopes and hills to climb amid the darker fading years.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Spirituality Blog, Uncategorized

Calling Freedom – A Poem for Scottish Independence

Notice how strongly the fire begins to burn, fed by the air of Freedom
Who has ever fought against our Freedom and won?
See how it burns away bad opinions, and the water of our burns flood
For our betterment, our blood and our places, the water rises.

See the fire and water rise
Hear the winds of our mountains roar
See how they come to take their own, calling for us to stay faithful
Do not stem the water or extinguish the fire
Leave our land’s trees and its streams and it´s fires
To call Freedom, the voice carried in the wind

The courageous gun and sword laid down before our enemies
Shining and moving in museums of a time long ago
Quaking and shaking of cannons in castles
Water and fire is what defends us now, ancestral whispers, Fed by Freedom´s breath of air

See the fire and water rise
Hear the winds of our mountains roar
See how they come, to take their own, calling for us to stay faithful
Do not stem the water or extinguish the fire
Let our land’s trees and its streams and it´s fires, be,
To call Freedom, the voice carried in the wind

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Spirituality Blog

The Hawthorn – Kilbirnie auld cemetery poem

Daniel 2: 21

Upon the leaf of hawthorn green appears a drop of dew, with spiders webs reflecting frost upon the bush´s hue.

And comes an Angel staff in hand, reflected in the drop, where Lord and Lady Crawford lie, with sticks and lollipops.

As the sun does take a turn, the whited ground turns green, the Angel walks towards the gate and light shines in between.

And as the dew dries for the day, a sign that autumn comes, as well as days where dew will stay till sunset has begun.

And as the Angel´s shadow moves along the back kirk wall, acid rain from steel work days the people do recall.

Her sandals bare, they leave a trace of markings in the clay, where snowdrops rise beneath her feet on snowy winter days.

And to the gate she slowly walks, her staff upon the ground, with every turn a splash of white can surely here be found.

By the sign of service times, a smaller crack appears, a line upon an ageing brow brings a grandson´s fears.

And as she leaves, our minds are changed but not filled up with fear, her coming speaks of life more meek with passing of the years.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Spirituality Blog

#Poem For Our American Cousins

Romans 8:17

In every year thats passes by, there’s friends from overseas, visiting a little town with dreams of family.

Perhaps Place castle some will say, or found in Walker Hall, perhaps a line of great descent, behind Tianna Falls.

Walking streets which long since gone, with hopes of names or face, wearily they pace around to find the slightest trace.

And when we ask about the task, the answer’s never clear, identity or Grandpa’s home or memories they hold dear.

Still there is a waiting wealth, which passed through every line, a joyful welcome and a smile to all who take the time.

And legacies of golden bowls surrendered long ago, exchanged for joy preserved in time, for future folk to know.

Heirs of joy, and stewardship still, which lasts beyond our peers, kindness, smiles remembered still throughout the passing years.

If today a search does come to wanton lonely minds, think not of watches or old clocks to search for back in time.

Instead to know their sense of joy, is shared today by all, a random act of kindness do, instead of searching halls.

For welcome, joy and happiness was theirs and ours today, there is no forgetting acts of Love which fall on minds today.

Make your mark for future lines, by random acts of good, remembered more by other folk than silver, gold or wood.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Spirituality Blog, Uncategorized

Rain at Jock’s Burn, Kibirnie

(John 5: The Pool of Bethesda)

An angel clad in white winged robes with hands upon the pool

A surge of water gushes forth, clear, transparent, cool

Children watch upon the bridge with raincoats, darkened caps

My mother calls me not to fear, the bridge’s missing slats

Like needles dropping in the stream, rain pierces to the ground

Raising thoughts in Children’ s minds with every plopping sound

And as the Angel, golf course walks, the clouds clear with his step

Revealing brighter thoughts for man with every place he treads

By Crawfurd’s castle, blue skies clear and children move away

Their raincoats filled with water still seem strange in Summer’s days

Shadows clear upon the fields and hope again appears

Within the showers, sunny glades where man has nought to fear

Long after Angels hands descend or sun upon Man’s dreams

Still the pool, it gushes forth pushing all upstream

And on the Minds of local men an Angel dares to tread

Stirring healing loving thoughts upon the dying bed.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Spirituality Blog, Uncategorized

Droplets of Love

Just like the rain on Garnock stream or dew on May’s fair morn

Or upon the Spider web in tombstones left forlorn

 

A gentle power of Love does fall on mills in Knoxville Road

And seen upon the smiling face of babes in their abode

 

Or random acts of kindness shown in finding mobile phones

Or helping older people walk on ice on Milton Road

 

Or in the eyes of little deer which run through open fields

In steel work sheds with gypsies´ beds and talks of business deals

 

Through different cables power runs to light the darker nights

Through different folk a gentle love expresses its own light

 

In every man a power shines from Place to Ladeside vale

Reflecting joy with sweet accord o’er mountain hill and dale