Wid Poems

NOISE

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.

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

Forbidden Love

Wen dowego afoot tomann
Abode stomen forest cooryin
His bow to grasp for thapas focann
Budnod his color to braainyn.

Wedenod go too faren studid
Tillindigan came wid mortar
Boinkin todew at the corner fugid
Komparidin woo his sidmodar.

But in that it was tomanee solak
Adee toof her kame not widher
And starmin down the lane wid fojak
He bedtrahim to the comin sidher.

Alas, no morin to fogiffen vocit
He studwid hankin headin bowed
Antern to strollen afar in combosit
She tuderist manshe luvon vowed.

Alley

"I took the roses...
Dressed my best...
Held my heart...
And said what i felt...

The answer i knew...
Would be a no or a yes...
But never i thought...
It would be the reason  that came from my past...

Sad by the rejection...
I returned home...
Walking back from the same roads...
I came from...

As u walked down the dark alley...
My future was overshadowed by my past...
The light i wanted to walk towards...
Had been lost in the dark...

I wanted  to be good...
 But they labelled me as bad...
I tried to raise my hands for friendship...
But they all turned their backs...

Things never got easy for me...
But i made myself strong...
All i learnt from life was...
The problem wasnt wid u...it was in the peoples eyes"

Kig An Sor

Whadidit usay?
A ale too far to sail on mar?
Ne’er too far for tha ner keday
And some kin jin us mestarar.

Neh join us there wit min an sord
to take dai in ur hansom handen.
We kanno come that way wid not a bord,
ni morro com Kig an Sor tostanden!

E kin waifor in borg till then.
Nolanger tha needle wai for us,
but canno wee morro on borofin
widot de somulin garolus.

So wesaled wid to foreston
ner de magar to forstallin.
Kig an Sor tostand wid sorrontom,
an nofor ken a pistollin!

Christ Consciousness

Ignite Christ consciousness, 
during this June solstice,
world invocation day,
lighting the lamp of love,
healing by night and day.

Ignite Christ consciousness, 
throbbing within our heart,
ineffable bliss beat,
that engulfs mind-body,
fully from head to feet.

Ignite Christ consciousness,
at this very moment,
with each life-breath intake,
that’s ours for the asking,
when ego we forsake.

Ignite Christ consciousness;
love, wisdom and power,
being the threefold flame,
of vibrant soul-essence,
playing out life’s end-game.

04-June-2022

Notes on World invocation day :

https://www.souledout.org/festivals/worldinvocday.html

https://www.lucistrust.org/the_great_invocation/wid

Bless Yo Heart

fo'give me my suthern dialektic,
us po folk dont take de trash out much down here

Dem rashnul boys shure fixate on dat suthern *ss,
seem not to care 'bout big or small or lad or lass.
De reason fo dis fasinashun seems unclear;
dat’s not da way strait thinkin folk do talk 'round here.
We’d likely vite ya over to our dubble-wide,
but we got backhoes when we need a body hide.
We hates to see ya talkin bad about de Lawd,
we hope ya meet before ya coved up wid sod.
So mebbe lay off all dem jokes 'bout kissing kin,
and we won’t all be sayin, 'bless yo heart' agin.

How To Kill a Cow

We use to know
Howt o put thinggs down.
People gowin roundd,
Their lives tied behindt em by a spyne of brown strings.

You know we use to know howter kill cows
Wid the back af wharrever, hacking instrument hong at hande
D blunt end woul send your bovine friend awai
So she will not com back fora longg tyme.
So in that tyme as longe, you took excellent care ov her estaite
The horns and steaks te table ate
While shi's gone, til she returns
When you're old ant your world's all yor young wone learns
An told cow come back an says she, 'thanks'
'I appreciated the efficient dispatch'.
How she gloons to see them, kids completed
Kids that cow-Madame herself haz fedd.

And be it forehead uf god, or the middle of d brow of ya reldest cow,
We use to know
D special spots.
The places fork cortingg, and lovingg, and dyingg
The spot betweeain dose dopey grass-my-eyes,
Staring back at yer in e abattoir 
Or th slightly reddedd board in d smokey olt barn.
And yu knew
That if you 'it that spot juss righ
D eyes die inside, no feel, no figh,
Wonn touch, noi much,
An owt went the lights.

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.

Spanish Town, Jamaica

Smithsonian Folkways Catalogue #709-300-25.

RASTA WEDDING VOWS

Gunna pledge mi soul an body in di spirit uh di trut.
Gunna stan an mek a promise an delivah u da proof.
Mi seh nevah gunna evah turn u loose.

Gunna free u frum di darkniss for to bade u wid a lite.
Usin’ bot mi han tugedda – gunna really do it rite.
Hunny, I’ll lay down mi cloak for u tonite.

Gunna swear mi life’s protection  wen I giv mi solemn wurd.
Gunna mean da ting I’m sayin’ wen I set ur hart assured.
Den I kiss ur han an offa u mi sword.

Gunna luv u lek u need it. Gunna luv u lek a tease.
I be holdin’ back mi horses, till u beg me, “pretty please,”
Makin’ all dem sweet mimosa guarantees.

Gunna dally in di tropics. Run mi finger tru ur hair.
Gunna play wid dem intentions in di salty ocean air
As we live di island lifestyle laissez faire.

High Clouds Over Philly

With Apologies To Jerry Blavat

It isn’t the statue of Rocky,
Or that bell with the noteworthy crack.
It’s not the fraternal affection, 
Or the bird crap on Billy Penn’s hat.
				         
It isn’t a cheese steak wid onions,  
Or a hoagie from Terminal Market.
It’s not a soft pretzel with mustard, 
Or a Tastykake dropped on the carpet.       

It’s that head shop on South Street;
The one where all the hippies meet,
Where the dancing is elite.
It’s the hippest street in town.
Oh, baby!
Inhale the aroma. Savor the nectar.
It’s less like a Domino, and more like a Checker.

Broken Dreams

" A broken hand is fixed wid bandages...
A broken heart is fixed wid someones love...
But what about a broken dream..
What can that be fixed with...

Can it be fixed wid money...
Or can it be fixed it a degree...
Or could education fix it...

The dreams in the eyes of the parents...
When sending us to school...
The hopes in their eyes...
When buying food for us...
The moments they slept hungry...
So that we can sleep full...

All of that so that we can be something...
A doctor..a pilot or an engineer...

Lucky those who have parents..
Wb the dreams of those in war countries...
Wb their dreams...
Instead of books their hold guns...
Instead of searching their parents...
Children search for revenge...

The day passes in wars...
The nights pass in shelters...
The foods are the waste and remains...
And the clothes are the remains of the bodies...
The dreams burned to ashes...
Ri8 by their own hands...

Is it too much to ask for a world...
Where there are dreams and thoughts...
Where schools and colleges...
Are not burned down...
Where parents dnt have to sleep hungry...

Can we have a world?....

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.

Winsome Wisteria Sonnet

Winsome Wisteria Sonnet

Eden, open your ardent arms to grace 
Wisteria's soft lilac petaled blooms 
Draped stunningly about Spring’s sunny face 
In softest shades of lavender like plumes. 
Your aroma wafts heady in the breeze 
When graceful racemes descend from above. 
Divine as the frilling flowering trees 
Your stunning sight captures my heart with love. 
Goddess Venus must surely be aware 
Of the glorious sight that you bestow 
Like dainty dangling ringlets in Spring’s hair 
As zephyrs sprinkle your petals below. 

I am profoundly moved by your presence 
And tranquilly transported with pleasance. 

4-19-21

Poems of the Day April 21, 2021 ~Thank you Team Poetry Soup!

ALL YOURS (Apr 20)Contest -First Place
Sponsor Brian Strand

Your best sonnet this year so far Contest -Second Place
Sponsor John Hamilton

My thanks to this site for the photo of Wisteria:

https://target.scene7.com/is/image/Target/GUEST_5f778c57-02de-4839-9233-d70736dddd8d?fmt=pjpeg&wid=1400&qlt=80

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