Christian Science, Poems, Uncategorized

For Paisley and it’s Places

Perhaps upon the River Cart or by its dwindling streams

We feel a heart that’s beating power without another means

A power that turns the waiting tide and waters plants and flowers

Turning students to their books in every waitng hour

A power that lights the morning dawn and dusk a gentle glow

A power that hold each swan intact as waters gently flow

A guiding light which simply “Is” with no demands on man

While preachers loudly scream and shout that all the folk are damned

A power that needs no words nor praise to move within it’s place

For it has the world for man to feel it’s gentle guiding pace

And if by chance an apple tree should spring in Barshaw Park

Or nestling feathers after flight, you see a morning lark

Look upon its shining beak or feathers black and pure

Worship not the image, mind, but the power that it endures

And when the apple tree no more, holds up it’s greenish fruit

Look toward the power in Life for all things absolute

Only the real stands up to time, with majesty and robes

All else disappears from sight, with pain and anxious throws

And so the real in everything is found not in the clay

But in the power of Life itself which opens up the day

Dwell not in things which are not real but look behind the eyes

There you find the real idea of all that Love implies

Christian Science, Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem in celebration of 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, Uncategorized

Paisley Peace Group

Paisley Peace Group is a voluntary group of people who meet regularly in Paisley, Renfrewshire. The group has three main aims:

Acknowledge:  We acknowledge there is a force of Good in our lives which cannot be defined, we seek to acknowledge that good, share it and to be expectant of it.

Educate: The group’s charism is to teach and affirm English as a second language, we strive to offer ourselves as teachers and mentors both face to face and online and assist with the Group’s classroom activities when they take place. Students amongst us are paired with teachers or mentors and fully participate in all of our activities.

Inspire: We inspire our students to believe they can speak and communicate better and we carry inspiration to other people to join us, to become the best teachers and mentors they can be.

Paisley Peace Group is strictly not affiliated with any doctrine, Church, hierarchy or other denominational guideline and is open to absolutely anyone. We do not seek or solicit funding from students and meet our own costs when they arise.

Full training is provided. To get involved, please contact me using this site.

 

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.

 

 

 

Uncategorized

#Paisley Museum Closure for Refurbishment #Renfrewshire

When I was a boy, I used to complain bitterly that the museum never changed its presentation or exhibitions. In the 1970s it seemed stuck, perhaps like a Church, unable to move and part of the Scottish “system” as it was at the time, a relic. Even today they are still displaying Buddy the stuffed Lion, with the card  “on display since 1929”.

Continue reading “#Paisley Museum Closure for Refurbishment #Renfrewshire”

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.