I am situated in the beautiful Blue Mountains of New South Wales, Australia. I create my sculptures and poetry in the scenic town of Bullaburra which is at an altitude of 2,500 feet, between Penrith and the famous tourist town of Katoomba. In real life I manage a small wholesale nursery here in the Blue Mountains. I propagate everything from African violets,Maidenhair ferns and all other sorts of exotic plants. I hope you enjoy my passion, in this case for poetry and the sculpting and photography of all types of exciting Animals . I use the Scottish vernacular in 90% of my poems. The musical sounds and twists of the Scottish words used famously by 'Robert Burns' gives colour and with a little imagination and patience from the reader, makes for a experience in poetry which differs from the usual. They say the English language is hard to master. Here all you need as I have mentioned is patience of mind and no preconceived ideas as to what is normal.The Auld Yin.
Wee, wee rid rid coated thing
tae ma hert sic joy yea bring.
Wae elegance an' tender charm,
ma racin' hert yea sae disarm.
Yea hang there among yer kind,
Bright an' braw but sae refined.
Ma wee rid rid coated friend,
sae Bonny, I'll nae pretend.
Each year fur us yea come along,
espousing nature's sweetest song.
A song not o' sound but o' exotic taste.
a taste fur oor lucky paletes tae be graced.
Here fur oanly a wee wee time,
yea mak ma taste buds gently chime.
Tastin' like nuthin' else oan this earthy place.
wae yer wee rid rid bonny smilin' face.
Frae yer parent tree yea duly burst ,
as a wee fluer yer gently nursed.
Caressed by bees yer scent doth bring,
eventually tae be a wee green pimply thing,
Bathed wae the Sun's life giving rays,
growing, maturing in such a wondrous way.
Changin', yellow, pink, noo tae yer rid rid style,
tae a Bonny Cherry tae please us fur a wee wee while.
Av jist picked yea up frae among yer like,
frae the box foo o' Cherries whay are jist alike.
But you ma wee wan are jist fur me,
hope yer taste is in the proper key.
Oh my, sic a burst o' pleasure,
ma wee wee rid rid bloomin' treasure.
Say juicy say sparklin' ma mooth foo o' joy,
wunnerful, exotic, aw ma senses yea do employ.
hank yea, thank yea ma wee rid rid friend,
yer the greatest, aye I'll nae pretend.
Tull next year, tull wee meet again,
whin I'll listen tae yer song o' sweet refrain.
A song o' taste an' no o' sound,
o' tasting magic from aw Cherries abound.
Rest now yer gentle parent tree,
an' please bloom anither day fur me tae see.
The Auld Yin.