Best Yins Poems
Sing tae me the auld sangs that ah learnt when a bairn,
Sitting at ma mithers knee hearin the lilting tunes,
Carrying me far awa in ma mind
Wurds o the land whaur ah live
An love aw the deys o ma life.
The auld sangs o Caledonia uv heroes ,fermers an unco ithers,
Auld yins wi tales tae tell o plooghmen wi ther hoarses
Running trecks in the fields
Ready fur seed hoping tae grow,
Berley,oats and wheat an aw.
O shepherds an ther dugs so clever an quick,
Chasing the yowes ower hill an glen,
Hardy people wummin an men,
Oot in a wethers hail,rain ur sna,
Lookin fur the yin that’s lost.
Auld sangs bring memories back pintin the wey tae gaw,
Daw we daur tae learn from them wisdom an aw,
Wi a sigh an a tear in oor een,
At the end o the year wi sentiment seen
Auld sangs agin lustily sung.
Andrew mcintyre 18 lanuary 2021.
WE WILL WALK OUR RAINS
Welcome the falling rain with a rainbow smile
dripping onto our face rippling even the sea.
Flowers and bushes mottled wet along the aisle
together in the pouring rain, running with glee!
Without a care in the world the brackens spree
and beneath the trees nesting birds hide in style,
beholding this vista, we both are in agree:
Welcome the falling rain with a rainbow smile!
Soak and cold, hugging for warmth is worthwhile
and so is hearing the rains' staccato percussion keys
in a moment of stillness... Some cascading vile
dripping onto our face rippling even the sea,
some bring frowns, worse-- tears to our eyes
but having a beloved through every miles
may lighten dark skies. Hopefully, those guise
flowers and bushes mottled wet along the aisle
dry as the sun rises, wiping natures cries.
Under the sun, under the rain: dance and be free!
Breathe! Drink their essence... Release some sighs
together in the pouring rain, running with glee!
The rain and the sun: like a couple sustaining life~
garnishing both the earth with gregarious greens.
May we be like them: partners holding no strife...
The yins and yangs now smoothly hurdled in between
welcome the falling rain...
_______________________________________________________
*** Bracken/s~ these are ferns.
Poem Contest: ONE
~~3rd place~~
Copyright © 2015 Olive Eloisa Guillermo and James Andrew Fraser
6:21 pm, September 03,2015
A Top A Highland Hill
A top a windswept highland hill above Locheil land
Clansmen gathered roun and shook the princes haun
They raised the standard high cheered till they were hoarse
Followed the flying heron across the highland gorse.
A,wa tae London toon wi hopes held dear in heart
O pitting Cherlie oan a throne whaur he richtly belonged
Dreams o highland jacobites tae rule oor blessed laun
An nation free aw europes stifling haun.
As so aften happens dreams die oan a wrang move
And at Derby juist nor o London toon
It wiz decided that we would go forrat nae mair
So wi turned an heided hame wi hairts ower sair.
Goerdie boy sent his airmie chasin us
A the wey back to scotias verdant green
Up an doon , doon an up aw ower the place
Till at Drummossie moor we met them face to face.
Oor clans were weary and tired oot
But charged intae them none the less
Their guns ripped through oor ranks ripping us to shreds
We scattered , whit was left, to oor wee bit hill an glen
Cumberland , the butcher boy chased us yince again
Tae oor ancestral hames reducing them to ash
Murdered those who fought and lost and innocents alike
Even the auld yins infirm an ill still biding in their beds.
The craws they feasted well oan highland blood an guts
Plaids an kilts an a, were hidden in the straw
Oor prince he hid awa n,er tae return tae us
But were er we be wi toast him wi oor cups.
Andrew P McIntyre November 2011.
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
"The wind is the pounding of my heart."
Rush with me, wind! Help my heart pound,
with forces of tornado's sound;
yet, gentle as a summer breeze
slow dancing, twirling through the trees.
My heart, like wind- prevails unbound.
My heart, like wind, is often bound
by pressures building- quite profound
to weather seasons with great ease.
Rush with me, wind!
From strong to calm, most winds rebound;
my heart's emotion is compound.
But, like the wind, it guarantees
those yins and yangs no one foresees.
In shifting force- accord is found.
Rush with me, wind!
August 2, 2022
For A BRIAN STRAND STANDARD No 1212 Poetry Contest
A daunting press of gifted dreams
The boyish boasts and sculpted schemes
Brother, fore, and brother, aft
Stead to ply their father's craft
Each consecrated to the rest
A journey spun at hap's behest
Sad the sojourn, seasons spent
Demeanor, too, in slow descent
A tattered sheet aside the mast
The binding brag that held them fast
A parried genius pawned for pay
Extorted art, la grande touche'
Spoon-fed faith to temper sins
God's impressions, yangs and yins
A sextant set to split the tacks
Fair, the wind upon their backs
Betting talent - an epoch's wage
Trust to rust, on scribbled page
Pride integral, misplaced in time
A poor man's Eden - a canted rhyme
So ford the moat, up castle's wall
One faded echo, Caedmon's call
Expired breath, a sparrow's verse
To strain the wings of kingly curse
Scabbards crossed and gauntlet down
Such gallant lads to charge the crown
The hallowed chapter of gloried tome
A heart-child lost, now hailing home
Thus ripe with moments to impart
This rarest seed with callow heart
A pauper's rhyme thru' all the years
The sweetest music to my ears ...
A music poured ... to douse the tears.
Written and submitted on February 16, 2019
For the "Music To My Ears" Poetry Contest
Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
An Auld Scottish Matelot on Lockdown in Malta
The Maltese Government says we are not to go oot
A mere doddle to us auld yins who have been aboot
Cod War, Falklands, Gulf War and more
Assume NBCD state 1 condition Zulu Alpha
And shut the Fxxxing DOOR!
Get the crib board out and Uckers TOO
Trouble is her in doors has not a CLUE
I could secretly write my memoirs at NIGHT
But perhaps not as I could be in a lot of legal E
And also how do you explain your runs ASHORE
Down the Gut behind the green DOOR
A Daily Orders printed every DAY
Followed to the letter come what MAY
Call the hands would be FINE
Except being a Greenie I don’t get up till NINE!
With Australian Breakfast she has a MOAN
You have to hop up and get yer OWN
I am mess cooks every day which isn’t FUN
Except She made the roster ONE in ONE!
Still cooking isn’t her TRICK
Thank God for that as my ass would be constantly SICK
At least there is no queue for SCRAN
I have done me bag meals so escaped her fxxxing FRYING PAN
At 1700 she assumes the role of the PTI
My sports gear on and I want to CRY
On the bike for half an hour or MORE
Bloody saddle tortures my ass and I am SORE
“Don’t forget the weights” She calls, “My Dear”!
When all I want is a fxxxing BEER!
She has been knitting quite a lot in the HOOSE?
Seriously worried as it looks like a NOOSE?
Pipe Down is drawing near in the HOOSE
Terrified noo as her knitting reveals a HANGMAN’S NOOSE!
She is also the Ship’s Barber and plans to cut my HAIR
Please, please Lord End this Fxxxing NIGHTMARE!!!!
It is revered in the East,
while feared in the West.
It is asleep during noon,
and wide awake under the moon.
Sometimes it is carried on people's skins,
where it stays still as part of yins.
.....it is also part of yang,
giving hope to the young.
Eastern astrologers mark it in calendars,
from the lands filled with cedars.
Whether in the present or future,
it will always be a mystical creature.
To Our No Relationship Association,
I suppose we will never find
a healthy way to prove
Lovelock's Gaian Hypothesis
we have nothing left to lose
by cooperating more Win/Win
and competing less Lose/Lose.
No more or less than we could prove
our sun will reappear
to rise this next tomorrow
any more or less synergetically
than fundamental fragment-sensationally
apart.
Still, if not true
that love cooperatively empowers
more than hate competitively disempowers,
then how would we understand life becomes
more powerful than non-life's static being?
If non-life artifacts of becoming
rocks in streams
of living water
shaped of star dust
and gaseous non-relationships
instead of nothing,
How could no thing
emerge from no ballistic space?
And why would no space for belonging
submerge this flow
of universal ergodic time
yang-health forward
restoring yin-wealth
of listening in non-violent
co-passionate DNA communion,
historic past?
If DNA were not divine,
why would we sense epic interweavings
of yang strong hydrogen
coveting yin flows of helium?
Muscular webbed
co-passioning walls
and wells of co-identity
Yangs and yins
patriarchs and matriarchs
healthy strength reproducing wealthy listening flows
Still,
I see your pointed rifle.
I suppose we will never find
a healthy way to wealthy prove
and disprove
unprove
reprove
pre-approve
Lovelock's Gaian Synergetic Hypothesis
we have no right integrity
left to lose.
With whatever retrospect behind my neck I’ll make you look like an insect to intersect/
I inflict and solicit my scripts strict to set out a rhythmic therapeutic antic/
While I’m poetic I’ll constrict any rap artists larynx apart the farthest/
Except for Mr Mathers and a few other charters/
I’m not temperate with with my mental temperament I’ll acclimate to this new mind state/
Accommodate and con a date that’s a flake’s pawn of fate/
Plan to take Jake for a lawn to taint like a stint to hate/
I imprint a stingy tint on the template in my zen state/
Clench my pen in a slant and fetch verbiage/
You wretch verbose flows per dosage/
This sir knows ferocious, stupendous and harmonious droves/
I throw out crows to clone arrows to burrow as it snows/
Glows to bind mind molecules as I find the mole’s clues when he said and sold his cues/
Now I have to mold new moves and stow suave in the garage/
Grind and grow my stash for a few grooves/
Growth grew gracious gaps for some brute like a spruce to juice/
I spew true truth in my troth as I trot from spot to spot/
As there’s a lot of slop to slow to a stop/
Start sprouting swift sounds and spout out syllables sporadic/
Sporting synonyms as a sin to yins/
Simply shorting the sport like an anagram organism to organize a verbal ******/
A grim grin has got you pondering gin intoxication see that pond jump on in for a spasm.
Jesus loves us
this I know,
Mother Gaia showed me so.
Red and yellow
black and white
these are green
within Her sight.
(maybe ultra-violet aquamarine
to a diva ecstatic shabbat queen,
but go ahead,
don't let me deductively stop you)
Little ones to him belong
Yin is weak
so Yang is strong.
Jesus lives like yin-born children
all Gaia's child grown EarthBorn Wild,
red and mellow,
black with white,
we are polypathic
with Her resilient sight,
Jesus love us
this we know
for Earth's creation
centers me so.
Little yins
to Her ZeroZone belong.
I grow ego weak
so EcoYin flows strong.
Yes Jesus loves we.
Yes Gaia grows me.
Yes God still lives we,
Her Truth grows flowering on.
I see them in reflections - the orange juice glass at breakfast or my iPhone where they can pop, like notifications - I keep my phone face down.
They usually want to tell you something - how it was for them - their history. I discount these emotional messages - they come with the jester's assumption that I care - that I need the performance and will get involved.
“What are you doing?” My mom asks, as I’m taking all the shiny, mirror-like ornaments off the Christmas tree.
“The glare gives me a headache” I say, without stopping.
“Your Grandma does that too”, she says, wiping her hands on a Santa-themed dish-towel.
“Really?” I say, but I know that and I know why.
I started having nightmares, when I was in first grade. My mom thought I had an overactive imagination but when she described it to my grandma, she soon showed up for a visit.
Over the next few weeks my Grandma told me about our “gift”. About how we were both born on the same day, under a waning third moon, in Autumn. That we're both “Yins,” doxies (sweethearts) of the dead and that we could, at times, see and hear people who were between stops on their way to their after-lives.
That’s why the dead parachute into my unused moments from reflective surfaces. They can be anxious or in despair - when their death is cruel or sudden but I'm an adolescent - I'm in school - what can I do??
The presence of water discourages them - which is perfect - can you imagine seeing spirits in the reflections of your bath? EEUUUWWW! You’ll hardly ever see me without a water bottle or polarized sunglasses - which seem to break-up the images. I'll not be smothered in other people's afterlives.
A rational frame of reference
for multicultural Taoism,
preferred by UniversalYang
and deferred with UnitarianYin,
regards experiences of systemic racism
and white straight male privilege
not only within each individual,
but within each community,
each faith community,
each ecopolitical energy-organizing sector
across this global EarthTribe.
This Taoistic reason/feeling approach
to big systemic issues
is more tipping point analytical,
probably inspired by polypathic bicameral Bucky Fuller,
And not so much monopolized by
micro-identity ego-afflicted elitism,
supremacy ideologies,
victimization debates
about how mine
is unfortunately bigger than yours.
Tao mindfulness
would prefer not to hear,
much less see or feel
Yang abusing
or even neglecting victimized Yin,
further Business As Usual
sometimes violent
Left hemisphere predations
or even verbal cultural misappropriations
depreciating healthy values
of cooperative Win/Win Right hemisphere resonance.
Taoists,
and other universal either/or egopatriarchal thinkers
and unitarian both/and ecofeminist feelers,
prefer the non-violent web
of secularYang with sacred Yintegrity,
bilaterally balanced
egopatriarchal competitive Type Yangs
fascinated with
and ceaselessly curious about
ecofeminist coopertive Type Yins,
Written dipolar co-arisingly
across the hemispheres of each heart,
each left with right non-violently winged
ego-out/eco-inside
bi-hemispheric universal Soul,
and written across the outdoor climate geospheres
of Earth,
more multiculturally inclusive
on this larger stage
of healthy democratic energy,
more resilient polyculturing empowerment.
Good and active healthy thoughts
produce and reflect
left-brain regenerative labels,
Bad and entropic death of feelings
effect and affect
left brain degenerating labels,
In-between
ambiguously left brain
and ambidextrously right brain
not not generate,
still actively ruminating.
Positive enlightened life,
Negative disempowered death,
Not not in-between these Yangs and Yins
all binomial egocenters
and ecosystems
positively regenerate restorative thoughts
and negatively degenerate retributive feelings
Creolizing
Transubstantiating
sacred in-between Paradise
and Hell,
Heaven
and Earth,
compassionate communication
and demonic debating demagogue experience,
healthy ecological thoughts
and punishing felt theological enculturation
sensation
energy
Healthy democratic communion
and pathologically autocratic disunion,
sacred resonance
and secularizing
segregating dissonance.
This world is full of noise,enough to burst,
your mind and destroy well being lust,
noise from traffic on ground and air,
from telly,s ,radios and everywhere.
Gies a break we aa bellow,
makin mair noise for fellow,
humans who walk the same path,
work it oot dae the math,
as oor cousins wid sey across the watter,
haud oan a meenit ah heed yer call,
whits wrang wi noise does it really matter.
Aye it does my fairweether freends,
caises pain in yins lugs and heid,
those wi issues hate this aa the time,
produces anxiousness and depressed need.
Get tae the wids trendies cry,
wildlife an trees wull help ye fly,
even in the daurkest realms of root,
tae mony bodies causing mair noise.
Jumpin in secluded pools delighted shouts,
or faaing fae the heevens oan broken sheets,
flapping ,twirling adrenalin urging,
Bikes hurtling alaang secret paths,
get oot the wey comes the noisy cry,
Lets shoot the craw and leave this place,
seek oot the spots tae find yer solace.