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Rory Galbraith Poem
I was having one of “those” mornings
being all boo-hoo
and feeling sorry for myself
just counting the ways
that things were so uncool
when my ole hound-dog came up
and nuzzled my thigh
I reached down and rubbed his ears
and got to thinking
do hound-dogs ever get the boo-hoos
and I realized
yeah, they probably do
with that revealing flash of insight
I got down on my knees
and gave my ole hound-dog a hug so tight
that it hitched my breathing
he got to wagging and licking
tossing his head and smiling
and I got to making all that
talking-to-my-ole-hound-dog-baby-talk
while we were having ourselves
a good ole time together
I got to thinking again
when you get the boo-hoos
and start feeling sorry for yourself
what you must try and do
is give comfort to someone else
and if the closest someone else
is your very own wag-licking ole hound-dog
then you just get down on your knees
and let that comfort flow
while I was doing just that
and we were nose-to-nose
we looked into each other’s eyes
and I had another revealing flash of insight
I wasn’t giving comfort to my ole hound-dog
he was giving comfort to me.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2023
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Rory Galbraith Poem
I do not know if this is odd
but for me, most times
I do not feel the need
to write a poem that rhymes
I generally find
you see
that when that writing bug has bit
rhyming is not my go to proclivity
‘cos when I do
have something to say
rhyming very often
just gets in the way.
so I’ll leave you with
this little thought
if my poem doesn’t rhyme
does that mean it’s all for nought.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2023
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Rory Galbraith Poem
He took apart
his soldier of tin
to see for himself
what lay within
expecting honour, strength
valour and pride
he eagerly toiled
to get inside
with soldier now
cleaved in two
he saw what he thought
could not be true
half of his warrior
now cupped in each hand
he gazed at an emptiness
he could not understand.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2023
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Rory Galbraith Poem
As enriching as love
as infectious as a smile
as uplifting as a hug
as comforting as slippers
as welcoming as home
as magical as bird-song
as wondrous as the clouds
as inspiring as rainbows
as perfect as snow-flakes
as authentic as the sunshine
the most beautiful of all sounds
is the laughter of a baby.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2024
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Rory Galbraith Poem
Why, as we grow older
do we lose the innocence of youth
are ageing and innocence mutually exclusive
is it because innocence affords us no protection
leaving us defenceless
easy victims
and so we abandon it
as we come to know the world that we inhabit
a world that tells us to expect the worst
and as we look for the worst
and find it all around us
our focus is lost to wonder and opportunity
our openness and willingness to trust
branded silly and naïve
dangerous even
the awe that filled us when young
that had us keen and vibrant
fearless and full of expectation
has become the currency of the childishly gullible
of little value in the ranks of lost innocence
and so
having left our youth behind us
and with it our innocence
an innocence that inspired us
permitting us to be open and unguarded
to accept our world at face value
to be impulsive and trusting
to believe in innate goodness
we have
with the guiding wisdom of age
decided
that it is no longer prudent
to unquestioningly offer our hand
to unreservedly open our heart
to smile and welcome people in.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2023
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Rory Galbraith Poem
What does it mean to think
to have thoughts
to have ideas and opinions
to have likes and dislikes
to trust and to distrust
to dream, to contemplate, to analyse
to plan, to postpone
to love, to hate
some thoughts remain inside
some thoughts are spoken out loud
what is it
this intangible that we call thought
this thing called thinking
who or what is doing it
who or what decides the topic
the stance, the angle
we are the thinkers
but we are seated back there in the carriage
mere passengers
we are also up front in the caboose
shovelling the coal
hand on the throttle, hand on the brake
doing the driving
we are both passenger and driver
my immediate thought is
how can that be
I have come to realise that it can be
simply because it can and is
that at least is my thought on the subject
that is what I think
I do however harbour this thought
what does it all mean
I think that I have thought enough
all this thinking has made me weary
I will now go and lie down
and let both the passenger in the carriage
and driver in the caboose
guide my thoughts where they must
and I will dutifully follow
alack and alas
what does it mean to think.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2024
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Rory Galbraith Poem
I stand a while and ponder, my tummy sticking out
my heels a little cracked, my thighs a little stout
my shoulders slightly slouched
my eyes a little pouched
my nails could use a buff
my belly-button’s filled with fluff
my profile lacks the pride
that claims a better side
not elegantly tailored with snug and perfect fit
not eloquent in speech nor known for comedic wit
not filled with derring-do
not blessed with eyes of blue
all in all I’m quite a sight
but that’s okay, it’s quite alright
for my daughters balance the scales you see
by thankfully looking not even the tiniest bit like me.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2024
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Rory Galbraith Poem
Little Jimmy Short-Legs
took it in his stride
that everybody called him
“Little Jimmy Short-Legs”
‘cause he knew
way down deep inside
that his sturdy little legs
were really, really short
and one would have to be
all but blind
and ever so polite
to not plainly see the shortcomings
that his little legs displayed
he was however
very, very grateful
that nature
when being a little mischievous
which he readily understood
had thankfully chosen not to
place his hands in a position
that would have everybody calling him
“Little Jimmy Short-Arms”
a moniker
that for some unearthly reason
which he truly cannot fathom
would have been so much harder
to rakishly take on board.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2024
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Rory Galbraith Poem
This morning
whilst brushing my teeth
and trying
with very little success
to obey the dental profession's plea
to brush in a circular motion
and not
in a side to side motion
I noticed some ants
scurrying about on the shiny porcelain
doing no harm
just going about their morning routine
as was I
with very little thought
and even less concern
I brushed them into the basin
turned the tap on for a beat or two
and flushed them away
as I turned the tap off
with toothpaste foaming around my mouth
and running down the toothbrush onto my wrist
a terrible guilt and a crushing sadness
at my unthinking cruelty
at my cavalier snuffing out of life
overtook me
and wrought within me
an overwhelming desire
to tip my head back
and wail at the ceiling
to try and assuage
the soul-deep sorrow
the deep-seated need for forgiveness
that wracked my very core.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2023
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Rory Galbraith Poem
A point to ponder…
why I wonder
when we are young
and get jerked awake
by a dream or a nightmare
are we hugged and comforted
given the assurance
“It’s not real, it’s not real!!”
and when we are older
and get jerked awake
by a dream or a nightmare
we tell ourselves
with great relief
“It’s not real, it’s not real!!”
whether young or old
we will however marvel
at how unbelievably
real it was
but will gratefully accept
the comforting fact
that it wasn’t real
not any of it
it all happened
inside our heads
but
when someone
has a near-death experience
and they tell us
of all the wondrous things
that they saw and did
inside their heads
whilst clinically dead
there are those of us
who emphatically believe
that what went on
inside that head
on that occasion
was in fact real
proving beyond doubt
that there is life after death
that that experience
fuelled and moulded
by the unknown forces at play
inside our heads
whilst clinically dead
actually happened
what I wonder
is the difference between the two
all of it
every single bit of it
happens
inside our heads.
Copyright © Rory Galbraith | Year Posted 2023
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