Christian Science, Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem in celebration of my marriage in Paisley 28 November 2019

The Harp – by Joseph McTaggart

If Marriage were a Harp with strings
We´d surely sweep a strain
Bringing joy to Paisley town
While playing sweet refrains

We’d play a song on Fulbar road
And at the Bield scout hall
We´d play it at the social clubs
and laughing, folks would fall

We’d play the Harp upon the braes
While young men play away
While older couples watch sunset
the Harp would gently sway

We’d sweep a strain of sad refrain
At Coats mills passing by
We’d touch upon a melody
Where many threads were tied

We’d play the Harp across the track
As cyclists wave us by
We’d play and wait at graveyard´s gates
For those who´ve said goodbye

We’d play a tune right at the schools
The Children would be pleased
We’d pass the Harp to little ones
To hold upon their knees

And at the rail-way with it´s sounds
We´d play a strain so glad
Then leave the Harp at Gilmour Street
For travellers who feel bad
To strain some sounds of happiness
And joy for all the town
To watch it grow with sadness no!
But, all to gather round

And as young men in later years
watch Paisley grow and change
the Harp will say, much more than words
of Love which e´r remains

So next time ye are in County Square
and music, sounds so low,
take time to gather round the Harp
near where the Cart does flow

A strain which sweeps a Lover´s heart
With gladness, faith and joy
And plays its tune eternally
For all who will enjoy

An everlasting song of Love
surpassing space and time
a Love which lasts eternally
Which no man can define

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Auld Simon´s Prayer – A poem for Lochwinnoch

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 Thing 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.

 

 

Christian Science, Poems, Uncategorized

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.

 

 

 

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

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.

 

 

 

catholic, Christian Science, islam, Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem for Arran and the Holy Isle

Oh draw near, Great Love Divine,  and sooth my waiting mind.

Whiting Bay and Holy Isle, surely all are thine, within my heart appears the long forgotten saints.

Passing holy hours, like a tired monk I wait to find you in the maze of liturgies and pathways.

My naked head does burn, like earthly passions turn, to a higher calling, to vistas set eternal.

With a yearning voice so strong, I turn to what I long, to find my peace in thee.

May the mountains of the isles teach me humility of heart, to see beyond the peaks of shortcomngs to higher views of Love.

The sweeping vistas of Love, higher than the highest peak, swirling winds appear.

The joy of meeting departed ones, to commune again on the shores of thine Isles, I wait, I come.