National Poetry Day 2017

Pastorale

A Better Classa Folk

Lookin back,
oor Jeannie said,
that time
thit ahwis raped,
it seemed ti gie
some comfort
ti ma mammy,
thit it least
ahwis pult
uppa wally close.

Garthamlock Windaes

Oh aye!
Hiftibi quick wi the planks,
the jiners,
whiniver a hoose faws emty,
ur thur in.

Hale scheme's fulla blin windaes.
Kinna eerie it night,
Planks disnae reflect the moon.

Glesga Highcoo No.4

Muggers leaves us rich,
Sterrin straight up it the stars,
Rain in the sivers.

Glesga Highcoo No.3

Love spurned in Bath Street
Strips aff in Sauchiehall Street,
Waves its defiance.

Glesga Highcoo No. 2

Mind wance, butterflies
Agitatin Red Road fields.
Noo jist in ma belly.

Glesga Highcoo No.1

Eighteenth storey flat.
The burds peck it the windies,
Bit oh, the hard grun.

Anurra Heed Itra Baw

Ah love ye Boab! wis whit ye sade,
nmeenma workin bunnet tae
wi biler scalins up ma nose
na yerd muck still oanmi.

Ah love ye Boab! That took some sayn,
bit Goad, amanno gled ye spoke,
furrawid nevera goat roonti it
masell, nitwis better oot.

Uv coorse Hen, it's the saicent hurl
oana barra furra baithy us,
so lean against me saft awhile
cause amaw black nblue

faera tackety bootsa time.

The Music of Love

The back close was our winter enclave. We
Were sheltered from the wind and rain by brick
Abutments which the green gas barely touched
Before it guttered at the dark and died.

Invisibly we whispered tender scales,
or played impassioned airs with lips and tongue,
Plucking the solo strings of wild cadenzas
Out of our duet's gentle fingering.

We plumbed the fugal depths and lit the high
Sonatas' darkness bright with timpani.
Then at the rallentando's dying fall
We paused and packed our instruments away,

And set our ears to guage the double entrendres
In the hissing lamp's dim innuendos.