Best Tae Poems
He was in none of my classes
In the 1980's
And I saw him only on test days
Where one had to perform his "kata"
And fight in the ring
For the Sensai to do his thing
At these graduation tests
Where we seeked the next higher belt
Several schools would meet
And it was on one of these occasions,
I met a student with the most deadly feet...
Wasn't that he kicked well,
Or scared us in the ring,
It was the putrid odor,
That made our noses so sting
I doubt he'd washed his feet in decades,
The stench was so very strong,
Sitting there waiting to fight,
I wondered what was going wrong
He wasn't even near me,
But yet I choked and gagged
And when i did get closer,
I knew I had the culprit tagged
I but merely hoped I didn't have to fight him,
Though I knew I could kick his ass,
But the thought of those stinking feet near me
Would be like being exposed to toxic gas
Well, I lucked out
His stench used
In someone else's bout..
But the memory of that smell
Lingers on until this day
I don't know if I can explain it,
I don't know quite what to say...
A power like that,
Stronger than martial arts,
Done merely with lack of soap...
I suppose I could have saved money
And joined him as a dope.
when i got home from school
my mother was watching
oprah again
with a shopping bag
of ice on her knee
when i asked her
what happened
she said
“i dont want to talk about it”
and later i found out
she was working out
to a tae bo dvd
when her knee
popped out of her socket
and nobody was home
and she doesnt drive
and she had no friends
so she had to pop it
back into her socket
herself and she said
it was the worst day
of her life
Hello yea bonny wee pawky thing,
sittin' there tuggin' at ma hert strings.
Aye yer wee ,an' oan yer oan yer hard tae see,
niver mind wee thing jist let it be.
Withoot you, we wid hae a scunnered land,
aye wee thing yea think yer oanly a wan man band,
Help tho' is niver sae far away,
life's dramas are nae a'ways dark an' grey.
Yer mair important than yea think,
mair important than oanything that's gone extinct.
Withoot you an' aw yer like kind.
this wurld wid be in a massive bind.
So wee thing get rid o' that pawky look,
yer really a giant in oany history book.
Since the beginning, you have been there to provide,
so yer wee sel,' behind a bushel please dinny hide.
Yer no' stonnin' there oan yer oan yea ken,
yea hiv hunners an' hunners o' ither frien's.
Oan iv'ry country an' continent yea hav' many kin.
fur eons an eons that's a'ways bin.
Dayin' yer very very important job,
so ma wee courin' thing dinny sob.
Be a happy pert o' this wurld sae great,
yer up there in lights, aye wee thing, that's yer fate.
Yer fate tae provide fur aw this world's life,
withoot yer life givin' skills, we wid be in strife.
Naw !!no' in strife, cos wee widnae be here,
so ma bonny wee pawky thing, ston' up an' cheer.
Ston' up ston' up, fur heaven's sake,
Ston' up ston' up, a great bow, please take.
Nae langer be a wee quiet gentle pawky thing,
cos great nourishing life you duly bring.
Oh ah ken it's no oan yer oan yea achieve sae much,
miracles oan yer oan there is really nonesuch.
But wae aw yer mullins an' mullians oh kin yea have,
yea kin feed them aw, like the proverbial fatted calf.
Yea see noo, yer nae langer a wee pawky thing,
wae aw yer greenie pals tae the world , greatness yea bring.
Taegither yea will clan, an' nae langer be a wan man band,
wae aw yer kin an' their amazin' skills at hand.
Aw yea amazin' wee verdant clever thing,
yea ken noo join wae yer pals tae bring.
Feed the masses aw aroon the world,
let yer flag of knowledge be unfurled.
Yea thocht yea wir jist a wee singular thing,
but now yea ken yer pals arrr 'around, tae bring.
Aye, aw yer pals, arr' a touch o' class,
nae langer ma wee thing are yea jist wan wee blade o' grass.
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.
She wid bustle aboot; she liked tae get oot,
did Annie.
She wis ayewis there; a breath o' fresh air,
wis Annie.
She had loads o' pals, laddies an' gals,
had Annie.
She wis aye guid fun, as bright as the sun,
dear Annie.
She wis awfy smert, wi' a great big hert,
wis Annie.
She'd pass ye by, wi' a twinkle in her eye,
wid Annie.
Whit a sad day when she passed away:
'Slangie' tae Annie. (A final toast)
Look up in the sky, she's pretty close by,
is Annie!
She'll watch oe'r you, nae maiter whit ye do,
will Annie.
She'll say, "no tae fret", noo that's a fair bet!
"Eh Annie!"
Tae A Mouse
(Whit wid Robert Burns say!)
Ha’ where ye gon ye cowrin feartie
Your impudence protects you sairly
I canna say but ye strut yer stuff
And quite honestly we’ve had enough
Where ye gon ye cowrin farce
Back tae Brussels to kiss their A...se
Yer fair oh face an hair untinted
Half mass trousers and they say yer minted
That chain aroon the neck you wear
It’s heavy, speaks volumes A’ truly swear.
The vision o’ you tied tae the mast
Is something we should hae done in the past.
Pow’r up the engines on the private jet
Scramble the forces we’ve tae get oot oh debt.
Or so she says without a glance
29th March we’ve tae take a chance.
No Deal there say the yins in the know.
Didnae matter if you said Yes or No!
Politics at perties a definate question
tae bring amongst us a bit o digestion.
But take O’leary the King o cheap flight
No managing ony sleep at night.
His massive fleet there stuck on the ground
Doon beside our trusted pound.
Now haud you there while Ive got your attendance
Remember we tried for Independence?
Nae faith back then because we were told
BP’s stopped drillin - We’ve nae black gold
The barrels a’ empty the drillin a’ stopped
Increases in Asda, the penny has dropped!
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blinder free us,
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad Free us,
An’ ev’n a Devolution
Written by Jinty
13.01.2019
We're oan the march wi' Nicola's army
We're oan the road tae kingdom come
Nae matter whit the English dae
We're gonna hiv oor way
And fund Scotland wi' oor oil Elysium.
We're oan the road wi' Nicola's army
It's cheerio tae aw oor auld chums
For we're gonnae try oor luck
And we don't give a flyin' f**k
As we march alang tae independence drums.
We're oan the march wi' Nicola's army
Wi' Tommy's mob marchin' side by side
Noo Labour his loast the place
We will step up oor pace
And leave the UK wi' oor Scottish pride.
We're oan the march wi Nicola's army
As we dream aboot oor ain Macaliphate
Nae matter whit the English say
It's gonnae be oor day
As the EU welcomes oor brand new Scottish state.
The battles ower ,smoke settles ower the moor,
Clans are broken flying aff tae the hills.
Redcoated sodjers mingle with red Heilan blude,
Killing the wounded in Drumossie mud.
Oor Prince has fled leaving dreams in the dust,
Of a Stuart oan the throne that was oor lust,
like the heron scared of mans approach
fleeing his home being taen awa tae France.
Some say he was a bonnie lad cam frae italia way,
Heir tae the royale throne pretending tae be king,
Nae clue or fighting skill but the bonnie prince could sing.
Noo he was being led awa tae catch a boat tae tak him awa.
It was spoken of in tones hushed and still,
Ane day he wid return tae claim the throne,
Frae ower the watter oor king wid come,
Alang wi lairds cawed awa tae France.
© Andrew Provan McIntyre 2016-05-28