Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

A Prayer at the sea at Largs – a Poem

In this poem I am trying to capture the moment of surrender which we all feel between states of consciousness, life and death, struggle and surrender as well as passionate moments of ecstasy.

Yearning for your hand to touch mine, stretching farther to the beach. then withdrawing in sadness and returning to your world.

In your moments of desperation, you come and take whom you wish, reaching far on to the road in anger.

The moment of change, when your hand touches mine, the moment where life and death combine and we join as one.

Our minds wrestle with our old lives for a moment, memories of my childhood, school and perhaps the womb.

In an eternal world, where their is no life or death, only expressions of Love and forms changing.

Moving through eternity,  like water merging with water, with no chance to cling to shapes before they vanish before our eyes in chasms of beauty.

Mermaids move before me with flashes of cyan light, which resemble distant people and voices.

Seeing my family again, oh the joy  as they become recognisable a second time, the smiles and forms as they welcome me.

The expressions of infinite beauty which I called my parents, to go higher knowing they were expressions of a greater Love and a greater God.

I fall into the arms of another, he reaches over my mouth and kisses and caresses me for a lifetime.

The intensity of an orgasmic  moment, lighting the sky with flashes of blue light and the mermaids with their cyan brighter green.

Caressed by shadowy forms of people in the darkness, their touch awakening every part of my senses.

A dark hand comes from the passion and I take it,  a struggle begins pushing him away, but he is stronger and I lie motionless, thrown to the floor.

He lifts my arm and lays perfume on my wrist. Massaging my arm as I feel his warm hand touching me.

Then I awake to splutter water, a green uniform kneeling before me and an ambulance flashing blue light in the dark night.

My memories of infinity fade as the man before me approaches my mouth again beating my chest and pumping out water.

My wrist feels strange as a woman wipes an antiseptic rub before inserting a needle and they carry me away to the ambulance.

The ambulance  is parked by the monastery,  where their is hope,  faint glow and a curtain moves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem about Kilbirnie #NorthAyrshire: The Mossend Mine

The Mossend Mine

While walking near the Mossend mine
I chanced upon a flower
I stopped and stared at beauty spent
and passed away the hour

Her leaves were yellow daffodils
where bees would pass the time
watching men go underground
While entering the mine

Her stem did sway with summer breeze
she slumbered on the brink
like a burdened miner walks
whilst thirsting for a drink

Suddenly a voice I heard
transported back in time
young men with blackened faces walked
deep inside that mine

Awaking, flowers, buttercups
Blessed me on my way
Whilst haunting thoughts of distant past
I carried through my day

So if a flower does call you back
to places, lands of yore,
dwell not in the realm of dreams
take only what is yours

Perhaps your flower is yet to come
in mountain, thoughts or clime
ne’er mind the times of centuries old
now is your only time

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

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.

 

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

#Poem #Glengarnock Station #NorthAyrshire

Glengarnock Station

One thought I had of you today
As people crowded by
Of sending soldiers on their 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.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

#kilbirnie #poem #northayrshire #scotland

If kilbirnie was a harp with strings
I’d surely sweep a strain,
An everlasting melody
Which no man could restrain

 

I’d write a song of thanksgiving
Of peace and love and cheer
To bless the town  with all its woes
Bring pleasure to their ears
I’d play the song on knoxville road
And at the Walker Hall
I’d play it at the Labour club
While drunkards take their fall

 

I’d play the harp so silently
For those who hate the sound
To aid them out of hopelessness
To turn their lives around

 

I’d  sweep a strain of sad refrain
At  steel works passing by
I’d touch upon a melody
And older folks would cry
I’d play it softly at the match
While folks would cheer their team
And move along the  park so long
To watch the Garnock stream
I’d play the harp across the tracks
As cyclists speed me by
I’d play and wait at  graveyard’s gates
For mourners with their sighs

 

I’d play it at the Garnock’s heart
Right up at Jacob’s Well,
where no one goes to see it flow
Or care to even tell
I’d play a tune right at the school
The Children would be pleased
I’d pass the harp to little ones
To hold upon their knees
So to the town with all my sounds
And everlasting strains
I leave  the harp  right at the  cross
For others who remain
To strain their sounds of happiness
And hope for all the town
To watch it grow  with sadness no!
As an everlasting crown.

Christian Science, Poems, Uncategorized

A strain upon a lyre harp #poem #christianscience #Christian

A strain upon a lyre harp
Sweeps a sound so low
That only those who gather round
Can catch its sweetness flow,

A strain which speaks of suffering
A woman’s heart is torn
As she watches martyrdom
For her son she mourns

A strain of sadness at the tomb
She searches for her dead
An angel pointing to the skies
Which dawns a crimson red

A strain upon twelve tender hearts
Who sit in upper rooms
And still the strain plays out its tune
From sadness of the tomb

A strain upon a sepulchre
A white robed body lay
The saviour rises, then appears
The rock is rolled away

A strain it sweeps his Mother’s heart
With gladness, faith and joy
And plays its tune eternally
For all who will enjoy

The strain is never ending
Through time and space it plays
The bloodied fingers of our saints
Keep it playing today.

Poems, Uncategorized

A Poem for Paisley

If all the threads that Paisley made were found again one day.

I’d hang them in the sky with Love to take away the grey.

Upon the gold I’d write a tale of stories from our past.

About the folk we”ve lost in time that’s moved away so fast.

Upon the red I’d see the war and all the men who died.

I’d write the names of all their wives whose tears we left behind.

Upon the Abbey darkened threads of blackened thoughts and crimes.

Of a bygone age of killing men for moral crimes.

Threads of blue I’d give to schools, to teach them peace and Love.

By leaving parts of history, while rainbows hang above.

Upon the green, the Irish woe, migration, war and fear

While London pushes migrants out with hatred causing tears.

Upon the white I’d ask buskers to write their stories clear.

To fill the sky with hope and dreams of music for our ears.

Upon this richest tapestry I’d paint a cross and crown,

To show the world the triumphs of dear Paisley, my sweet town.