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Uploaded September 2015 (3 poems) Click for Readings
Diversity
Vive la difference!
I wonder if the Scots might ever say
Their words in the usual English way? For the lexicon one here must face Can make this seem like a separate place! Were small instead of mickle said I wouldn't have to scratch my head, And large instead of muckle would Suffice and may be just as good (Although those words once meant the same* The Scots are probably not to blame). And why say dreich when another word, |
Or maybe four**, might be preferred?
And 'Auld Lang Syne' - lest I despair Acquaint me back with the way things were! For I fear that my 'lum may reek' less long, Though I love this land where I now belong, And why go back to my Ulster hame When most of the words there are the same? So as I wish to be here for aye I'd better learn the Scottish way, For while havering thus in a body's lug Yin's dithering*** like a blootered rootless mug. |
* originally mickle and muckle both meant large
** see definition in urbandictionary.com
*** some northern English words are familiar in Scotland.
** see definition in urbandictionary.com
*** some northern English words are familiar in Scotland.
Rhona's Love
Prior to the birth of her autistic son, 'Rhona' was homeless for a time and living rough. When she read this poem she said with tears in her eyes "you have told my story!"
She was a single mum
and so absorbed in her autistic son that her email address used his name rather than her own. Why did Rhona listen so intently as I played Steph Macleod's track 'Man in the cold' with its haunting line 'It won't be long until I'm homeless too' while the others there took so little notice? When Rory tried to play a song in competition she quickly took her phone from him. The incessant rain had ceased by the next morning and we sat outside for coffee in that quiet rural setting where raindrops clung to long blades of grass and insects flitted from flower to flower in a maze of movement. She entertained us with a story of once working with young people and of her subterfuge to calm them when sailing in a storm for she had a way with words and there was humour in the story as she told it. It was later after dinner that she poured out her heart |
to just two of us
with tears welling up in her eyes and when we rose from the table we embraced. I do not know why she had been homeless and in some way neither did she for she was a graduate and thought in despair 'how have I come to this'? I know it wasn't because of drugs for she had tried them just once and had seen creatures crawling out at her from the crevices. Carefully dressed while being interviewed at one time for a place to stay she had almost been rejected for "this home is not for people like you" they said to her and she collapsed on the floor in a flood of tears. Was it before then that she had felt more safe sleeping on the streets than in hostels where some people would inject you in your sleep? She went back to her home town after being advised she would be given more priority there |
but she had moved on
before acquiring the first place she could call her own. A wave of relief swept over her as she locked her front door and felt safe for the first time. She had taken whatever jobs she could find and while working in a bar she met Rory's father who later "didn't want to know" and left her to bring up her autistic child alone. Rory was the centre of her existence and nor would she have wanted it any other way for "he teaches me" was all she said as in admiration I watched them together. This is a narrative with names changed and places disguised to preserve the trust she placed in us when sharing her story. But identified or not it is a story that deserves to be told for Rhona's love for her child was selflessly given while that for his father was so betrayed. |
The Cliffs of Moher
The spectacular 'Cliffs of Moher' in Ireland are over 700 feet at their highest point and stretch for five miles of coastline.
The cliffs of Moher are very tall
And not a place you want to fall For to plunge from there with no one to save Is a certain way to an early grave. So being in charge of young people there Was responsibility hard to bear And to count them all when safely back Must have felt like being reprieved from the rack. In mitigation it must clearly be said He seemed little older than the party he led And thus the weight had pressed on him sore Until we were back at our dormitory door. During the night we heard him shout And awoke to see him stretching out |
With the panic upon him clearly displayed
As he gripped a boy's arm in the nearest bed.* The cause for his anguish it soon transpired And the sweat on his brow as he perspired Was a girl he had dreamt was dangling there As in terror she clung to his hand in despair. The nightmare it seemed would never stop As she started to slip from his hand and drop For were she to die and him to blame Life could never again be the same. So, my dear reader, if ever you find That you have been placed in a similar bind, Be sure to sleep next an empty bed For this is advice that can't be gainsaid. |
* an incident from a youthful holiday on the west coast of Ireland