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Best Poems Written by Andrew Mcintyre

Below are the all-time best Andrew Mcintyre poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Skydancer

This is a poem about one of our endangered birds of prey, the Marsh Harrier. 

Dancing in the air 
moving to an unheard tune 
instinctive steps 
laid out 
under the summer moon. 
never to be seen on stage 
nor laid upon the page 
Ballerina of the sky 
above the ground 
nothing escapes 
your searching eye. 

Dancer of the air 
princess of heather and moor 
pirroueting to finish your dance 
no audience to approve 
or imagine 
a fatefull, longing romance. 

All alone 
you dance above 
only the clouds 
to give 
you love.

Details | Andrew Mcintyre Poem

Search For the Hidden Spark

The old man stood;elbows resting on the old stone wall
Wistfully he gazed over the snow laden field,
Watching the sheep nibble on bales of hay,
He thought back remembering his working day.

In his leather like work hardened hand,
In left palm carefully placed a tobacco slice,,
With his right thumb he rubbed it slow,
Into loose strands then to fill the bowl.

With a sigh of satisfaction he sucked at the stem,
Raising a lit match to fire the baccy into life,
Smoke arose in a fragrant plume dispersed in air,
He gently took a draw a smile on his weathered face.

The day was grey ,cold with frost making ground crackle,
Flakes of white crystal began to drift down,
Making the old ones countenance frown,
As his thoughts returned to the days gone by.

His elbows rested atop the wall lost in trance like thought,
When suddenly beside hin there stood another,
“Good day to you sir,” gently he spoke,
The old mans head slowly turned to look at him who spoke.
Weighing the stranger up and down as pipe men often do,
With languid gaze he took out his pipe and blew his nose,
A ring of smoke that floated far from where they stood,
Acros the frosty snowy field where sheep ate their food.

“Sheep ,” the old man said” are creatures of unknown turn,
“Follow each other faithfully until the setting of the sun,
Without ambition in the fields, eating all day long.
No thought of who is in charge no agenda to perform.”

The old man smiled at the strangers puzzled brow,
Blowing another smokey wavering ring,
Turned to watch the sheep graze as crows pecked,
At the frozen snowy ground hard as ancient stone.

The stranger smiled mostly to himself and sighed,
Resigned to accept what the elder man had to say,
“I am on a quest, he proffered, A hunt for something 
Special and extremely rare I hope that you can help.”

“ I search for that elusive thing that lives within,
Us all supposedly, or so that I have read in books,
In manuscripts ancient and forgotten to most,
Tales of the past of that most eleusive thing.

I have travelled and wandered far across our known lands,
Sat at the feet of mages and men so wise knowledgeable,
Beyond compare they sit and stare into other worlds,
Looking, for that one thing they know theyll never find.”

“ And what is this one thing,” asked the old man as he stared,
Out over the field of sheep that once he used to tend.
Fragrant smoke ringed his words as a smile curled his lip,
“Im not wise like foreign mage, so how can I help?

“ You have wisdom more than you know,” as the stranger,
Observed the scene where knobbly leafless trees forget,
The warm days when branches waved full and green,
Lying in seeret slumber deep wakened by capercailie scream.

“I am a weaver of words a teller of tales true and myth,
At Kingly courts i have spoken and sung entertaing ,
Courtly audiences who politely clap and wish me well.
Then without a second glance send me on my way.

Listen my shepherd friend I have lost my inner hidden spark,
The thing that lies within that helps me make my mark,
My muse has gone and I am at a loss where to search,
And look to regain my inner hidden creative soul.”

“My friend , the old man replied, “advice to help you I have ,
No secret magic words that can return your inner spark,
All i can say is be true to yourself be content within ,
Tell the tales that you know as if for an audience of one.

My life has been spent in watching after sheep,
That do nothing much but still I know that without,
Me watching that they would fall to wolves and scatter,
Over the hills frightened and alone prey to all.

All work becomes the same hard grind when daily done,
Repeating things the same everyday for little worth,
And respect is far from others lips and thoughts,
You do what others cant remember your own merit.

The tall stranger hung his head in deep contemplative musing,
Watched the sheep graze the bales of hay happy,
Perhaps they were but content with what they did,
Doing something that in this world no other could compete.

Darkness slowly filled the sky wind blew colder now,
The stranger turned his head to where the old man stood,
He was gone no where to be seen or heard,
Except the fragrance of pipe smoke floating in the air.

© Andrew Provan McIntyre. 8/1/2017.

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When We Were Young

When we were young
We didn’t know what we could become
What we could have been
When  we were just sixteen.

The road ran  on forever
Summer lasted long and dreamy
Never a thought of being old
When we were young and bold.

We met together talked and sang
Planted a twig that became a tree
No restraints we ran free
Like a picture coloured in and drawn.
When we were young 

What could we have become
A singer,poet and artist we
Bosco, Souixie Sue and me.
Gathered at the Walnut Grove
Along wi Tam, Nautical Bill and Blondie Bee

Having fun singing our song
Never knowing what was to come.
Our paths were split
Each to their own way went
Thinking back to when we were young
A tune forgotten already sung.

©andrew provan mcintyre  12/5/16.

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Auld Sangs

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.

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Foxy Tale

Hey  fox cub whaur will ye play the day?  

The forest floor is covered in bronze an gold  

leaf hiding youngsters like you from harm 

.Dinae wander far frae yer den .siblings and mother, 

stay close little one theres a storm coming. 

 (c)Andrew Mcintyre.

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Black Feathers Fly

(In the 17th c, many women were falsely accused of being witches. Many were banished, and more were burnt at the stake. Of course, none of them were witches, but due to ignorance and intolerance by so-called educated clergy, the women were falsely accused and condemned to die).


Like black rain over the meadow grass
Crows hover amid cackle and harsh laugh
To feed on seed of tomorrow's harvest
Leaving us all with meager leavings.

There they stood with gowns flapping 
Like black wing of flocking crows
Cackling in judgment sober and stern
To deprive us of life and liberty.

Caged in a dungeon cold and dark
Beneath the kirks lofty roof
Without water and our daily bread
Were starved and scared into confession.

With false witness we were condemned
Sentenced before a trial took place
Tied to a stake and burned alive
Our souls travelled into paradise.

On Orkneys verdant green grass,
Graze our kye and our yowes
Since time began has it been thus
Shadows float black in sky above.

Details | Andrew Mcintyre Poem

Dark Eyed Traveller

Standing at the tavern door,eyes dark and brooding
Neath his floppy hat, stared into the crowded room,
A Raven flew from his shoulder settling in rafters high,
He smiled a sardonic smile and ordered a mug of ale.
All turned to look at this dark eyed traveller tall,
His leather boots dusty ,cloak trimmed with mud,
And from his belt around his coat hung a dirk long
No one thought to say a word they tried to look small.
Around the smoke filled room his gaze did wander
Settled on a crowd of rowdy sea going lads noisly
Drinking ale and rum and telling bawdy tales,
Just back from foreign voyage across the seven seas.
Within their midst a vision sat with a smirk on ruby lips
 Long hair framed her face like waves of swelling sea,
Like kelpie mane, ran that hair ,her eyes like deep sea green,
And at once his dark eyes shone beneath that floppy hat.

The night wore on, the air grew warm, the raven fluffed his wings
From somewhere a shot rang out lodging in rafters deep,
Laughter raucous and shrill cut across the misty room,
Silence fell heavy among the gathered crowd.
He slowly turned his head in the direction of the rowdy lads
Dark eyes flashed as stepped towards where they sat,
As one they rose and laughed in his face,swords drawn,
In his hand a wooden staff and they  laughed no more.
Faces stunned into disbelief at what they had seen,
Around his feet six men lay still blood seeping from their wounds,
He turned on his heel and slowly went through the door,
The Raven cawed, spread his wings as he flew out the door.
Standing by his horse the sea going beauty waited patiently,
She smiled as he approached with a swagger and dark eyes flash
He tipped his floppy hat and beckoned with outstretched hand,
She went to him in full embrace held him like a band.
They travelled the land, the sea faring beauty and the dark eyed man,
Their tale told  throughout the fair sun kissed land,
From village to village and taverns where seafaring folk met,
The legend grew of the Dark Eyed traveller and his mermaid bride.

Andrew Provan McIntyre   ©  2015.

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Islands of the Moon

Far out to sea in the great expanse of water an island lies
Shaped like a crescent or bulls horns called the islands of the moon.

White sands blown by gentle winds and washed by azure sea
Lush forests filled with abundant shrubs and every fruiting tree.

Animals roar and squeak some crawl and slither by
The cool thermal air with everything that can fly.

The outer ridge is like a sheer cliff wall where gannets dive,
While within the crescent is calm and peace as gentle breakers roll.

Clear green water with no weed clog shelter exquisite reef
Where turtles come ashore at night to lay their precious eggs.

Sea maids stretch out on the sands and sing their wandering song
And passing whales reply with notes ponderous and long.



Butterflies in glorious colour, cloud and gather in flittery throng
While hummingbirds buzz and sup sweet nectar juice all day long.

Caterpillars smoking hooka pipes sending smoky tendrils high,
Moths both small and mighty trying to be the best in the sky.

Within the central island a lough spreads and expands,
Where waterfowl of everykind swim with nests close at hand.

There is a mountain tall that towers over them all,
Caring and protecting from stormy weather squall.

His name is not known to mortals like you and I.
His children alone know to pronounce it you would die.

The islands of the Moon lie far out in the great sea,
Tales alone are all we know as no eye has ever seen.

Sailors, pirates and all who sail the mighty seas of the world,
Under darken sky and myriad star all tell of something odd




When on a misty night as the doldrums have taken hold,
Sometimes can be heard the song of sea maids bold.

To search all the seas would take a lifetime or more,
Better to be safe asleep in hammock till ye snore.


(C) Andrew Mcintyre

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Lullaby

LULLABY



She sits alone in darkened room
Listening as the wind shakes the thatch,
Peat fire reek hangs in the air
As candle glow reflects in her eyes,
In her arms wrapped in a shawl,
Her bairn sleeps innocent with a smile.
She sings to him sweet and  low .
..................................
Mmmmmmmmmmm ochone,ochone my little one,
Sleep deep, sleep sound my darling son,
Beneath the stars, dream for me,
Your daddy is lost on some foreign land
So little fingers grasp my hand,
You have his hair, golden brown
With waves and curls hanging down
Features fair and handsome too
Smiles in his sleep just like you.
I loved him so much as i love you
He would have been proud baby boy,
To watch you grow and reach for the sky.
He left to defend his country fair
It was hard to leave, left his heart sair,
To fight in foreign fields and woods
And there he lies, alone in the cold.
When you grow remember him,
Ill tell you all that you should know
Youll plough the ground and seed you,ll sow
And hear his laughter amid the winter snow.
So sleep sound my pretty young son
Don’t let the dark invade your dreams
Rest now and grow strong and tall
Remember your daddie come the fall.

Andrew McIntyre.

Details | Andrew Mcintyre Poem

Pride and Anger

IONAH  : PART TWO
 
(PRIDE AND ANGER.)




PRIDE AND ANGER WEIGHING ME DOWN
CLOSING MY EYES AND OUTSTRETCHED MY ARMS
SLOWLY SINKING INTO THE ABYSS
DOWN TO THE DARKNESS WHERE I WOULD NOT BE SEEN

WAITING CREATED ESPECIALLY FOR ME
A FISH, LEVIATHAN OF THE DEPTHS
SWALLOWED ME DOWN IN ONE MASSIVE GULP
THERE I LANGUISHED IN ITS BELLY PULP.

I BREATHE ,I PONDER AND MEDITATE
WONDERING AND CONSCIOUS EATING FISH
CONCENTRATING HARD ON MY IMMEDIATE FATE
HOW LONG WOULD I BE SERVED THIS HUMBLING DISH.

CRYING OUT TO MY GOD FOR HELP
REPENTING OF MY FOOLISH PRIDE
READY TO DO WHAT I WAS SUPPOSED
I SAW THE LIGHT AND THE WAY.

APMCINTYRE        2012.