The River Garnock at Grahamston Avenue #poem

Flowing to a land of peace 
We watch her gentle stream
Old Churches, schools ravished by time
Reflect her gentle beams.

Starry nights and sun-filled days
Upon her granite poised
Where children played upon the bridge
O´er shadowed now with noise.

Yet peace she brings with every stone
Where faltering birds do nest
And otters with their children come
To take their peace and rest.

In her divine appointed flow 
Fear leaves no saddened thoughts 
For change is named upon her brow 
With no heightened sense of loss.

And by her banks sweet angels flow
Attending to their wards
while we stand upon the bridge alone
With only darker thoughts.

Yet sweet repose and Love are here
For all who hear her song
Far away from bills to pay
And every sense of wrong.

Her gentle flowing higher streams
Do guide us in our thoughts
to a peaceful place of mind
flowing o´er the darker rocks. 

´Tis good for us to stop and hear
Her gentle peaceful flow
While Angels pass with quieter thoughts
Allowing us to grow.







 





And what of Love? Poem

And what of Love?

And what of Love in brightest days
With illumined lofty shafts

And brings provision, gives us air,
To work our human crafts.

And heightened strains so sweet and low.
Upon the leaves and trees.

And brightens every young man’s heart from sickness and disease.

And on it’s wings white feathers seen
Of purity and graces

Rising higher in our thoughts.
From darkened mortal places.

And where it dwells upon the heart
With joyful power and praise.

We look to it to guide us home.
In every human way.

Poem: The Stranger

Why search upon the mines of time
Both future and the past
Why cry with bitter tearful eyes
For paradises lost?

What find ye in the darkest caves
In shafts of darkened thoughts
Where fears of death and earthly work
Become your only lot?

And as the loom of human mind
Does weave its saddened thoughts
There comes a Stranger to our sphere
A message he has brought

And with his lamplight on the walls
The shadows are displaced
No more the fears of darkened years
Our minds do penetrate

A light of Everlasting Laws
Eternal, sweet and strong
Daily shines into our thoughts
Transforming right from wrong

And as we learn to trust his Light
In daily paths we tread
We leave the world of shadowed dreams
For "God with us" instead

When we leave the world of dreams
Like Angel's rising thoughts
Glimpses of Divinity and
Holiness are caught

Caverns full of blackened coal
No more dark and cruel
Are stars upon infinite skies
As sparkling shining jewels

Poem About The Bing (Fudstone, Kilbirnie)

The bing was a huge mound of gravel and stone which was left there after the housing estate was built in the 1950s. It was replaced with a kids play area in the 1980s. The other Warriors bing in the Largs Hills was presumably called that because of where the Battle of Largs took place,

O the years upon the bing, with cousin Margaret children played,

Climbing up with all our power by Newhouse drive where people stayed,

Amid the thorns and grey cement there seemed a moment, time well spent,

And sliding down the gravel slope, I skinned my knees without a hope,

My grannie waiting at the door, with borax, plasters by the score.

O the hills we thought were steep, when now an older life we keep,

Mountains, slopes upon our minds, perhaps a bing of different kind,

Climbing o’er our darker thoughts, just like the thistles we did trod,

Lessons from the bing well learnt, of my granny’s soothing balm

O how that Love returns to me, and brings with it a sense of calm,

And behind the trees sat Warrior’s bing, perhaps a sign of future years,

With bigger slopes and hills to climb amid the darker fading years.

Snow in Paisley December 2020

And comes a pure white blanket laid

around the river Cart

Across the darkened thoughts of man

a Love which does impart

And o´er the bogs and swamps there´s ice

up to the Abbey door

A voice says “Man with all your cares

be still for just an hour”

The darkened views of waning health,

exchanged for winter cheer

The snow reflects a gentle calm

upon the town so dear

And on the braes the deer are seen

walking proudly by

For no man can touch their safety now

upon their mountain high

Upon the tombs of rested men

lies layers of icy sense

Reflecting that the One great Mind

preserves their innocence