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Best Poems Written by Damian Cranney

Below are the all-time best Damian Cranney poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Go Fishing

There is no peace to equal that, of fishing by a Lake, 
Or a stream, or river broad, or pond within a wood, 
If worries you would cast away, take a fishing break, 
Nature, is the balm that Soothes, the restless soul for good. 

I remember, one idyllic, sunny day in spring, 
Rising early, well before, dawns tentative groping light, 
Arriving at the lake to hear, a far off robin, sing, 
A ripple from a rising fish, all added to the sight, 

To angle for your supper, is reward enough, it's true, 
But that day, was a record day, eleven trout all told, 
It fed the family well, perhaps a week or two, 
But memories of that treasured day, is what inside, we hold.

However if excitement is what your craving for, 
Fishing in a little boat, upon a rolling sea, 
Buffeted by waves and wind, not too far from the shore, 
Satisfies the need inside and makes our souls run free.

Fighting fish and nature, whatever form, you choose, 
Fresh water or the salty brine, the outcome is the same, 
Catching cod or mackerel, you later have for tea, 
Is wonderful, I promise you, and part of life's rich game.

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The Souls Progress

I walk in the shadow of death,
I have neglected to care for my soul,
creeping age, brings it close with each breath,
Faith is the breath for your soul to be whole.

But when faith, no longer is there
And you've treated your soul like a shadow,
When it's spiritual needs, you’ve ignored without care,
Leaving no room, to include and to share.

To the promises of church and state,
I now no longer relate,
I cast no blame, I assign no wrong,
But I cannot find Salvation
in a Choral hymn or song.

Doctrine and catechism, drummed in by rote
Never ever would get my vote,
The promise of everlasting damnation,
The subtle procrastination,
Hell fire just left me cold,
threats just made me bold,
rules designed to avoid temptation,
Were eschewed, when recognised,
as misinformation.

The future is what it will be,
If agnostic you’re somehow set free,
To find God in your own special way,
To look forward with hope to that day.

In the meantime just follow these rules,
Just live for the day,
Do your best on the way,
And leave the hereafter,
To fate and to laughter.

Details | Damian Cranney Poem

An Independant Scotland

AN INDEPENDENT SCOTLAND? (Or, Beware The English)
by Damian on June 15, 2014. © Damian Cranney, All rights reserved

An independent Scotland,
That will do just fine,
We no longer have to listen
To the Scots familiar line.

Whatever woe that Land has had,
Is laid at Englands Door,
But if you analyse the truth,
We’re being blamed, what for?

More Scotsmen have been killed by Scots,
That’s no lie,
William Wallace, his history,
Perverted by Gibson, did die.

Betrayed by the Bruce,
Who took the crown at Scone,
After killing, John Comyn,
Who had the right, to the throne.

What about, the bonnie brave lads,
Abandoned at Culloden,
With empty bellies, and broken hearts,
Their prince they saw depart.

A third of those they faced were Scots,
Some Irish and some German,
Cumberland, commanded,
Officers were usually called , Campbell or Urquart.

Clan rivalry has a lot to answer,
Especially at Glencoe,
The Campbells and Macdonalds
Considered each a foe.

But Macdonald was polite to guests.
Who’d disturbed him from his bed,
With instructions to arrest him,
The Campbells killed them all instead

The clearances took place,
Run by, local Scottish factors,
Employed by landlords who were Scots,
Not English detractors.

The worst one of all
Was a lawyer born in Moray,
Patrick Sellar, was his name,
And it’s Scotland he put to shame.

Scotland was a barren place,
For crofters of that, stoic race,
That is why they fled the land,
And yes it was a big disgrace.

But if the bleak and wild terrain
Proved hard their families to maintain,
Why is an Englishman to blame,
When foreign soil can’t, life, sustain.

Before we joined together,
In unhappy unity,
Our security was always threatened,
By our old north enemy.

Whoever hated England,
Found a friend and ally there,
The answer was the union,
In which we both can share.

Make no mistake security
Was why we joined together,
If Scotland is a foreign state,
It could be viewed as an open gate.

The natural progression will be,
Border controls for you and me,
On a personal note I’ll stop the scotch,
My favour will be, for Irish whiskey

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The Ex Soldier, An Allegory

The ex Soldier An Allegory


A foul furtive fellow,

came a knocking at Joe's door,

what doth thou want,

thou craven knave,

Speak up else I put thee in thy grave,


I mean no harm my master

The ill looking creature moaned

I ask for but a bite of bread

and he turned away and groaned.


A pox upon your body

and a curse upon your soul,

Have I been put upon this earth?

to feed the likes of you,

A beggar and a vagrant

and perhaps a cut throat too,

Be gone before I fetch my whip

and tan your hide to blue.


The beggar looked at Joe,

and something in him stirred,

Just now I called thee master,

But thou art nothing but a turd,

You treat me like a dog thou cur,

I will not leave your sullied path,

Until you call me sir.



Big Joe could not believe his ears,

and one step forward did he take,

The beggar now to action took,

His sprightly frame belied his look,

and from beneath his ragged cloak,

Pulled a heavy wooden stave of oak.


I may, on hard times, have fallen,

Swallowed pride and not been outspoken,

Twas before my soul had been broken,

for I once was a soldier a good one to boot,

With crossbow I could any man outshoot,

Accoutred with short sword and pike,

I could hold my own with anyone you like.


Although not afraid Joe

looked at him wry,

Perhaps his harsh words

had been hasty,

He looked at him now

with a new look in his eye,


Wouldst like a taste

of wife's new baked pie,

I am happy good sir

to try thee at quarterstaff,

But prithee refresh thee

with some pie and some ale,

And you can regale us

with your soldierly tale.


The soldier looked up,

a new light, bathed his face,

I thank thee master

for thy most kind words,

They show thee a gentleman,

full of fine grace.


I pray forgiveness, if I,

offence to you have given,

Your words inside made me cry,

By them was my temper driven.

I am now the me, that I used to be,

I accept your offer most gratefully.

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The End of the Pier

The end of the Pier was shrouded in mist
the Shadows we cast were defining,
We plighted our troth, and then we kissed, 
Neath a full orbed moon that was shining, 

We walked hand in hand to the end of the pier,
The ghosts of our past reawakened our fear,
We had to be strong, for ourselves and each other,
Whether we could, we were about to discover.

The mist started lifting and in the moonlight
a blanket of bats had just taken flight,
then in a moment the bats were not there,
they had completely dissipated into thin air.

We both had worked on the Pier in the past,
It had long since closed, when we were there last,
Stoker wrote, Whitby, was were the vampires came,
But this abandoned pier received them just the same.

As we approached the door, that led into the pier,
From the frightened flight of bats, one still was here,
A sudden metamorphosis, took place within the frame,
And a vampire stood before us, I knew him, and his name.

Vladimir, I said to him, I once fought by your side,
I am your nemesis and fate, from me you cannot hide,
For I am here, to stop your cheer, and the evil that is you.
he gave me quite an evil look, deciding what to do.

I shined my torch upon his face,
Remembering how we loved this place,
The fair was now in disrepair,
But seeing Vladimir, we did not care,

The place had always been such fun,
especially when blessed by a warm summer sun,
Vladimir was an amusement, placed within the fair,
whose main role it was, to frighten and to scare,

The pier had no power, so we could not turn him on,
But the memory of what happened, has certainly not gone,
To animate the mannequin, required a coin to go,
Then Vladimir would start, his ghoulish vampire show.

He would give an evil cackling laugh, that shred your nerves apart,
He certainly was quite frightening, and not for the faint of heart.
I suppose it was a funny place for us to reminisce,
But when in love there are memories, you do not want to miss.

I think we now are over, the need to see the pier,
Generally, we remember it, over a glass of beer,
I suppose we might go back one day and have a laugh at Vlad,
Although the old Piers crumbling, it’s really rather sad.

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Stress Free

I walked amidst the shadows, that curtained life,
I looked for the sun to relieve my pain,
if you had been with me it would have released the hurt,
But you were absent when my need was great.

It does not matter, now, I know that now,
I am comforted by your presence, beside me,
l live each day for each day,
And you, my love.

The time is near when my absence may hurt you,
But dwell not on that, but on what we have been,
And if in future times you need a love,
I will smile on your need and bless you.

Details | Damian Cranney Poem

Let the Earth Breath

The lungs of earth, are being attacked,
If we want to keep breathing its now we should act,
If not for the sake of our own peace of mind,
Then for our children‘s children and all of mankind.

Trees by themselves are a beautiful sight,
Aesthetically pleasing in their own right,
But of greater importance and why we should care,
The trees and the plankton, Provide all of our air.

A forest the size of a small country, I fear,
Is torn, from the face of our planet each year,
To anthropomorphise the earth as a metaphor,
From space you would see it trying to breathe more.

There are many things that, require our attention,
But gasping for breath, is one we should mention,
Please all plant a tree, well more if you can,
To be more eco friendly sounds like a plan.

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An Excercise In Alliteration

The garrulous, Greek grape gatherers,
Joined joyously with jocund japes,
The olive pickers and Ostrich plucker’s,
Celebrating the seasons success in song.

The querulous quiver of musical quavers,
From a quorum of quality wine quaffer’s
Reverberated robustly round the room,
And resonated rhythmically from the roofs rafters.

An altercation arose amongst some aggressive Athenians,
Averting an armed argument was avoided adroitly,
By brave, bold buskers, brusquely berating their bombast,
And loudly and laudably lamenting such Loutish leanings.
Personally I drank my Retsina and went back to my Hotel,

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Scotland Be Brave

Scotland oh! Scotland,
What have we done to thee,
That thou should'st want to part
When brothers both are we.

Have we not fought for freedoms sake,
side by bloody side,
And have we not shed both our blood,
in mutual victorious pride.

What do we say, to those who laid,
there lives down for our future,
Do we not owe it to the past
to, keep the bonds that bind us fast,

Should we not celebrate,
The differences that make us great,
And that together, unity,
is both our destiny and fate.

Would the square at Waterloo have held '
if tartan had been absent,
If the fife and drums, in solitary refrain,
had no the pipes' to vent,

Would Sevastopol still hold the walls,
and would we be outside them,
We've been over The top. under the wire,
together we've suffered enemy fire.

The enemy now are those,
who have, an interest in disunion,
"Divide and conquer", "fan the hate",
Let's hope to God it's not too late,

Let us have faith in common sense,
Stop balancing, on that unsafe fence, 
Together we punch above our weight,
The union ensures, we will always be great.


We will forever be, a unique constitution,
Breaking with Europe is just restitution,
Staying conjoined in mutual respect,
With friendship and trust and time to reflect.


Do not let the wee lassie with evil intent,
Deviate the future, we now have been lent,
Do not let her vandalise, divert or destroy,
The gift of freedom that we now can deploy.

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A Life In Shadow

I cannot bear to see you there,
Upon that chair in solitary recline.
It seems not fair, that I cannot share,
your company, for which I pine.

Although the shell that is and was you,
Appears to be on open view,
The you that previously was us, is gone,
Lost like the sun, that once upon us shone.

As we fade into the darkness, of infinite night,
lost amongst the shadow, perhaps bereft of light.
I will always be there, showing you the way,
If there’s a light I’ll find it, time is relative they say.

This was a dream from Which I woke,
Reflecting fears that might soon be,
That nether world where sleep holds sway,
Sometimes shows truths, hidden by the light of day.