Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

#Kilbirnie #NorthAyrshire #Poem

Kilbirnie Loch

Stone age boats and sweetie wraps
Poisoned fish and old mine shafts
Factory buildings now collapsed
And you’re still here to tell us “aff”

Burst your banks and stop the trains
Entertainment for the “wains”
For once near you stood iron cranes
Houses, rows and tiny lanes

Fishing trips and walks to Beith,
Marshland, wellies, colder breeze
Freezing over, wobbly knees
Young men drown nobody sees

Steelwork slag dumped deep inside
Sweetheart secrets do confide
Joy riders drinkers out for a ride
Reflecting back their souls inside

For as we stare into your pool
As brown as beer or stained dyed wool
Reflecting back our wasted tears
And our wish for lasting years

 

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

#Poem about #Kilbirnie #NorthAyrshire

Lilac

Last night I dreamt of Lilac trees,

Upon the Garnock Stream,

amid the thorns and briars thick

a purple colour beamed

I thought about the folk who came

and chanced upon this sight

perhaps ancestors, long since gone

left it burning bright

Perhaps a bird did carry it

from far and distant lands

or from a child´s hands it fell

and grew to proudly stand

Or from the Castle seeds did blow

across the glade and vine

to where the lovers meet in quiet

with bodies deep entwined

 

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.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

To Our Friends in Canada

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

Christian Science, Poems, Uncategorized

Kerbala Poem

In every place and time there lies
a blood stained kerbala land
where people die with martyr´s blood
which stains the yellow sand

perhaps a place within our minds
which kills all false ideas
but with it love and peace are pushed
to fall and disappear

like Hussain on the battlefield
or Hasan´s poisoned cup
we seem to live history anew
by thoughts which do corrupt

Silently we think our thoughts
from places dark inside
which reaps a battle outwardly
which never does subside

and then we mourn as saints the men
whose blood they left behind
not knowing we ourselves did kill
by our false thoughts in mind
Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

The Oak, A #poem about #Kilbirnie #northayrshire

The background to this poem is that after the steel works closed, the area dropped into a recession both economic and social . It seemed to me that the older generation did not feel a lot of hope at that time. As the years passed the town became an unemployment blackspot with very limited views of itself.  On top of this,  there were sectarian feelings and hysteria passing through generations of some families about  religion. At its peak, I felt that members of my own family were killing each other by shunning and silence.

I wrote this poem to honour those people whose lives were utterly destroyed by these limited opinions.

The Oak

If all who claimed to love someone
Came under one oak tree
The town would surely empty up
Walking towards the spree

Perhaps the public park’s too small
To hold nine thousand folk
Maybe the Golf course or at Place
There lies that sacred oak

Or in a field at Baillieston
With branches stretching high
Would crowds of folk bustle around
Show love with tearful eyes?

If Love brought down from empty shelves
Like books or DVDs
Was brought to act in people’s lives
What feelings there would be

Main street perhaps with rose petals
Or colours from the blooms
People chatting at the cross
While bands played Tara Boom

If everyone said simply “thanks”
To neighbours, friends and foe
Or if per chance a pleasant smile
So Love may freely go

What if the morn brought questions like,
Who can I bless today?
How much a little town could change
And put her on her way.

Imagine Tesco selling love
What sadness that would be
For surely that would mean a death
to sacred old oak trees

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

#poem About A Rowan Tree, #kilbirnie #northayrshire

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