Hame Poems | Examples

Rudolph's Broken Leg

"In times past, said Santa, I'll admit, I have failed to live up to my name. 
Like you, I shunned poor Rudolph, seeing his nose was not the same. 
We bullied, making him sad, refusing to admit him to the game. 
That lesson was learned when he saved us,(much to our shame.)

Another chance is presented. You see, Rudolph has come up lame.
So, let us rise to this challenge!", we heard Santa Claus exclaim. 
"For too long, we've been unequal, for greater character we must aim. 
It's time to give the honored position, in the front, to a dame!"

Donner scoffed, “we’ll get lost now and Rudolph is the one to blame!. 
When Clarice flew by them, all the reindeer cheered her name,
And decided unanimously they would be proud if she came...
For she was fast as lightning, and they weaved her traces through the hame.

A Shepherd's Day

A Shepherd's Day by Suzanne Alexander (SA)

Wee, from East then West!
Seen one side then Next.
Feel a beautiful day, start is laid
Sjoe, from sting of Ray.This said,

Baa, from Ewe - distinct face!
Moor from one side at annex she graze,
Aye mi smeel yummy scone buttered.
Lighe nam lips whilst I muttered.

Shoo, splish-splash rain came unforseen
raining stairs of rods clearly seen
soil exposed with heathered bole
the red pigment irks the soul.

Ewe, come, sinn cùm sàbhailte! 
to the huge bole hole, wee time, to shed.
Close  jist ower the way so near,
baa, from rascal Mule , mi clu from ear.

C' mon ye little mule so blue
Safe its here by bole used as hue.
The noo! Mule. He came then settled.
Jack Snipe seen in marsh nestled.

Far in the distance a thunderclap
Meat today with pap.
With money earned just a little.
and hands brittle.

As the rain drops snipes my face, 
Content I am to run , this race
Yet a sadness for unfair wage
But joyful not being in a cage.

Day, from graft then came night 
Hame my manor is in sight.
Safe the ewe and mule I put,
aye, that'll dae. Day in tear and joy shut.

Long Time Awa

When yins ye lou are taken awa ,
forever gang intae eternity,
ne,er will ye see them agin,
as eternity is far frae hame.
aye maybes yell see them float by,
in a clear day o sky,
ye can talk tae them when ist yer wont,
but ne,er will ye gain a reply or song,
the kirk it says yell get tae heaven,
where ere yon maybe hidden in cloods,
beyond yer sicht an hid frae hubble ,
an its freends o similar clout.
Oh me freends Eternity is an awfy lang time,
weel beyond oor een an sicht o mine,
aye this life is unfair tae cause sic pain an despair,
tae brek oor herts in a thoosand dauds,
must be workings o hertless gauds.
sae gaither in yer airms yer kith an kin,
tae ignore them aa wid be a sin.
Lou them dearly beyond compare,
dinae mak their hert sair.
Tae hae them leave withoot yer blessing,
wid be tae lose them fur ever mair.
Mak yer peace wi them at war,
offer understauning nae matter
how faur ye hae to travel.

APM 25/01/2024

Rise Again

Tak oor grund from beneath oor hurdies 

Burn oor birches aside the lough, 

Besmirch hard fecht fur freedom, 

Dictating oor days tae come, 

No from the pint o a gun, 

Fae laws an promises  broken. 

Lees an lees spout forth like watter 

Lives expended as if they dinnae matter, 

Feel the Jacobite spirit again, 

Ready tae fecht like scotsmen again, 

Like warrior poets risen from the glen, 

Fae the mists o the past remember, 

Oor freedom wis wun sending Edward hame, 

Yon wis the past a new war begun noo, 

No wi claymores ,targes an guns, 

This time its ideals an Eton buffers, 

Those who wid sell oor birthrights 

Tae mak us slaves an servile peasants, 

Using stealth ,treachery an unco ither weys 

Rogues they be crooks ,cheats and thieves 

Seeming beyond reproach wi things hidden  

Frae us puir mortals aye they wull dae us doon, 

Sic a time as this tae fecht fur whit is oors 

Naw mair begging fur aa few scraps  

Fae a table fu wi guid things , 

Scraps urny fur us we ur free loons 

Burthit free an deeing we wull be free, 

Ur ye ready tae rise yince agin? 

 

Andrew P mcintyre 14/09/2020

Caledonia

Caledonia her laund is oor laund,
Caledonia her laund is ma laund
A laund wherr ithers ur walcome,
As we haud oot oor hand
In friendship an tak ye aw in,
As brithers fur aw that.

Caledonia we hailse you foriver,
Caledonia the braw kintre,
Whaur fowk ur aye at hame,
Wherr ithers feel richt at hame, 
Whaur affront is ne.er oor aim,
An deceit fur laund wi lea alane.

Caledonia yer nae wanes slave,
Caledonia ne,er unner Sassenach fit,
A laund fu o kemps  aplenty,
Free tae skail guid  rid bluid,
We urny  hinder tae scowth-and -roth
An will fecht tae uphaud oor richts.

A kintre o men free wi lealtie tae,
Auld alba caws tae us frae whiles bygane,
Wi sangs an ports fae the pipes ,
Filling the hairt wi  pride an courage,
An we will fechttae protect oor ain,
An free auld alba frae colonial pain.

A Glesga Setterday Nicht

“Gaun an bile yer heid” he bawled oot,
As he stood in the middle o the cobbled street.
Tae nae yin in particular.
Did he vent his anger.
Fu as a whaulk he staggered and swayed
Wan pin rooted tae the graun,
Ither yin moved like a dervish,
Gaun naewhaur fast.
He should of been hame
Wi his wifie and weans
But naw he insisted 
Wi a wee refreshment wi his pals.
Jist a hauf an a hauf an a wee blether
Pittin the world tae rights.
But man the craik was brill that nicht
Whit a pity it ended in a fecht.
Nothing though like the fecht
He wid huv when at home.
His wifie stood livid at the door
Tears a dripping ontae the floor
Weans moaning and bawling
Nae dinner again old mans supping fu.
Setterday nicht in Glasga toon
Lying sprawled an fu unner the moon,

©Andrew P McIntyre 2015-05-28.

Glesca Weans

Grouin up in Glesga wis nae mean feat
Pleyin in the back courts an dreepin the wass
Plouterin in puddles manky water sploshing aboot,
Searching in yon mucky middens fur treasure
Thrown oot by the families in the closes.
Fur a fitba a pile o rags weideh doon wi aw sorts o things
Or a tanner ba made tae test yer skills dribbling roon
Bricks, holes an buckets burnt through.
Some wi nae shin baries wis the thing 
An naething caught except wee beasties in the hair.
Holy jumpers an maukit breeks like a uniform 
Worn tae mark ye oot as livin in tenements raw.
Aye aww wis puir always skint fur buying scran
Except faither oan a Friday nicht at the boozers 
Getting fu wi his pals forgettin the weans,
Crying at hame an when he came in mither 
Wid aways get the blame .
Aye the weans o glesga wur a hardy breed,
All ways stervin an needin a feed,
That wisnae allus therr a feast wis a jeely piece.
When they grew an produced men o valour,
Or men o wealth an fauncy cars,
Ne,er forgot that they were a Glesga wean.

Upon Your Shore

Ma boatie sailed ower the mist covered sea,
I searched an sought for your hidden shore,
Shrouded in mist frae ma searching eye.
You left in a red mist o yer makin,
Stormin aff afore ah could stoap yer flight,
Heid strang defiant an unco deaf tae protestations,
Awa back tae yer hame doon by the wild sea,
Broodin an frettin yer wrath ready tae explode,
Watchin the mist conseal yer shore.
Selkies an sirens kept silent at nicht,
Feart o yer mad writhings an screams,
Even the Coileach hid hersell away ,
In daurk caves inside o hills and bogs.
They were loast in the wids,
Whaur only fae Ghillie could see them oot.
Doon rushing burns kelpies would scream,
Rending the nicht to quiver an moan,
Whaur travellers wid shiver in tavern rooms.
Ah heard the moans an gripes in the mist
As at last ah fund yer shore wi smooth saun,
Whaur ah beeched  ma little boatie,
Unner the licht o a bricht shining moon.
Upon yer shore ah staun an cast a look
Ower the saun toward yer hame,
An wunner if ah was tae blame.
Yer loast tae me forever in time,
Ne,er again will ah call ye mine.

Andrew mcintyre.   28/12/2020.

Tight Wad

TIGHT WAD
Yer cannie, as cannie be.
Nae sloutch, or frivolous, spend-thrift, ye.
Whose coin, to feered to leave the purse,
-in-case it’s ye’sd tae quench the thirst.
O, the ither, who just stood ye one.
Now sitting empty as a drouthy burn,
as he waits on you to stand your turn.
He taps his glass, he looks at you,
A bead of sweat runs doon your broo.
There’s nae way oot o this one noo.
Ye steady yer-sel, ye are resigned.
Then an idea springs tae mind.
You dig deep, you rummage roond.
The ither hopes its coin you’ve foond.
But you pull oot your watch instead,
his face is thunder yours turns red.
But not of shame, but by reprieve, 
for the  precious coin that’s now been 
saved--to see the light of a-nither day, 
as you prepare to go your way.
Jings is that the time, you will exclaim.
It’s time that you were getting hame.
And as you leave to go on your way,
I’ll catch you next time you will say,
As you pat you’re purse, well hidden away,
Your coinage safe for a-nither day. 


A poem by john scott

There's Space Everywhere

Words and tones may break my bones
but sticks and stones invite me
drinking from the opposite side of the cup
I think the name was Abbie something
Abbie normal
i am sure that was the name
Calling house a hame
Bathing in the shame
Changing face to name
This weido missed his r
or do i we
have a choice
Take a seat as i gently pat the spot
and hide behind the smile
that seems just not to fit

Mas Storming Aboot

Many ah nights wed sit on our ain,                                 
  Wondering weather or no my da wid be hame.                          
Ma poor wee maw she's gone insane                                       
Coz hes always dain it tae  her again .                                  
  Wen he's drunk he didn't care.
 my mas away oot she was storming aboot
hes dun it again an no came hame
no even to see his two wains.
hink he forgets were he stays some days
but hell be back in a couple ah days
way his tail between his legs.
but my maw she always forgives him 
she always dus.he just gees her at wee look
she loves him shes totally hooked.
so no matter wat he dis shell always forgive him
coz wen hes sober hes such a nice guy
i guess thats her reason why. wains

She Always Gees In

Many ah nights wed sit on our ain
Wondering weather or no my da wid be hame.
Ma poor wee maw she's gone insane
Coz  hes been dame it a lot 
an no coming hame.
Wen he finally does hes holding 
his head down in shame.
I'd lie an listen to her cry 
in my bed at night
I'd try to help her through her pain .
Make sure she was alright
But he'd always dae it again .
Wen he's drunk he didn't care 
He'd hurt her even mare.

Tight Wad

yer cannie as cannie be
Na'e sloutch or frivolous spend-thrift ye
Who's coins to feered to leave the purse
In-case it's ye'sd tae quench the thirst
O' the ither who's just stood ye one
now sitting empty as a drouthy burn,
as he waits on you ta'e stand yer turn.

He taps his glass-he looks at you,
a bead o' sweat runs doon yer broo.
There's na'e way oot o' this one noo.
So yo steady yersel, ye are resigned
to pay the ither back in-kind.
But then an idea springs ta'e mind.

Ye dig deep, you rummage roon'd
the ither hopes its coin ye'v  foon'd.
But you pull oot yer watch instead-
his face is thunder, your's turns red,
but not of shame- but by reprieve
for the preciose coin that's jist been saved.

Jings!  is that the time you will exclaim
it's high time you were getting hame.
And as you prepare to go your way.
i'll catch you next time you will say,
and pat the purse that's hidden away
your coinage saved for an-ither day
a poem by john-jock-scott

Hear Nor See

Not nowhere near a mastermind just highly inclined 
To turn mental pictures into verbal masterpieces
   Not really into the rap hame message want get through I'm
Gone be honest unless you got a gimmick or sell big drugs don't nobody hear you
   Young black man going through the struggle don't nobody
see you
   These days you gotta use social media get your followers up
but if it ain't making them dance it ain't what's up
   The rap game done switched to you tube views instagram the 
Hustle is likes that's how these new cats getting rich
  Artist don't want record deals everybody independent
made top 10 greatest hits 2 pac didn't make the list tell
me this who had more hits
   All I'm trying to say is I don't think message gets through
Scarface tell real stories if your not him or have a gimmick
Don't nobody hear Nor See you

Comin' Hame - Coming Home -Scottish Dialect

A angry sky, as cauld as Loch Lomon'
fair drew me out from cot o' peat, an' bed.
The wolves wus wailin', an' thund'r respond'd
Ah gather'd tam, me tartan, an' dug Red.
To  'orse ah took an' found the 'erd sam 'urt. 
The 'ungry wolves 'ad already fed. 
Inta the bi'er blaw, the rill ah skirt 
thro braes a white, t'ward ham an' fire burnin'
the bleatin' sheep, the 'orse an' ah alert.
We wud mak it hame, stomaches churnin'
O smell the peat fire on the wild wind now,
'ear the cows faint distant ca', a lowin'
'erself wud know, we'r near ta the brow.
Noo, we 'ad beat the storm hame, an' kep' me vow.



Dedicated to Jimbo Goff & James Fraser
and the spirit of Robin Burns

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