"dinna" poems
ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY’S BONNET AT CHURCH
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho’ faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunned by saunt an’ sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady!
*** somewhere else and seek your dinner,
On some poor body.
Swith, in some beggar’s haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle
Wi’ ither kindred, jumpin cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn or bane ne’er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.
Now haud ye there, ye’re out o’ sight,
Below the fatt’rels, snug an’ tight;
Na faith ye yet! ye’ll no be right
Till ye’ve got on it,
The vera tapmost, towering height
O’ Miss’s bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an’ grey as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I’d gie ye sic a hearty dose o’t,
*** dress your droddum!
I *** na been surprised to spy
You on an auld wife’s flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On’s wyliecoat;
But Miss’s fine Lunardi!—fie!
How daur ye do’t?
O Jenny, dinna toss your head,
An’ set your beauties a’ abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie’s makin!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!
O, *** some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It *** frae monie a blunder free us
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait *** lea’e us,
And ev’n Devotion!
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Poor little Heart!
Did they forget thee?
Then dinna care! Then dinna care!
Proud little Heart!
Did they forsake thee?
Be debonnaire! Be debonnaire!
Frail little Heart!
I would not break thee—
Could’st credit me? Could’st credit me?
Gay little Heart—
Like Morning Glory!
Wind and Sun—wilt thee array!
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'The puir auld folk at home, ye mind,
Are frail and failing sair;
And weel I ken they'd miss me, lad,
Gin I come hame nae mair.
The grist is out, the times are hard,
The kine are only three;
I canna leave the auld folk now.
We'd better bide a wee.
'I fear me sair they're failing baith;
For when I sit apart,
They talk o' Heaven so earnestly,
It well nigh breaks my heart.
So, laddie, dinna urge me now,
It surely winna be;
I canna leave the auld folk yet.
We'd better bide a wee.'
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wee ribbit, hoppin, daftie beastie
a rebber baind is in tha breastie
thou needs but waindie baindie up
and off tha hop
i *** be laith to rin an chase thee
tha niver stop
wee hoppin freggie tha smal laigs
is baitter spring than sailver stail
but i wud giv ye this advaice:
dinna tak a chance
some think tha laigs a taestie meal
dinna *** ta france
nu laieth flattie en the wa'
laik paice o' paeper gon astra'
nae mair tha hoppin in the aer
sae daft an barmy
the ainly fewture fair thee now
is origami
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 1:21 AM UTC
1: Ah’m the Boss Man. Me.
2: Dinna ****** swear.
3: Go tae Church. OR ELSE.
4: Mind yer lip wi the Auld Dear.
5: Nae ******
6: Keep yer hauns tae yersel.
7: Whit isna yairs, isna yairs. Dinna forget.
8: Dinna fit nae ****** up fir whit they didna dae.
9: Keep yir ehs aff her nixt door…
10: …an yir ehs aff thir gear, as well.
Mind now!
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
Chapter Two -poem-Neva Flores
Sometimes I get tired of having so little time
and plainly seeing my surroundings
crying out before the scent of dawn
has bloomed.
Can a single cloud breathe in
all of the warm air
that hails my universe,
removing all reason to wake up,
live life and resume?
I look at fleeing ships
whose sails are full of thunder
and I hear a song
dissolving the wildest parts of me.
Each note dances in the breeze
dropping its own melody
inside my heart
until it becomes the only thing
I hear inside my soul
and I struggle to even
breathe.
I was a cabin boy on a tallmasted ship.In the Straits of Gibraltor.Yes they did not know I was female but that was my well kept secret.one does have to survive in this world and by hook or crook I planned on doing just that.my name is Samuel.well really Samantha..been called Sam a while so the transition /switch to samuel was fairly easy.I figure Im close to 8yrs, maybe 9 and I'm scrawny and quick.Business was done in cramped quarters so no-one was the wiser.My best friend was Joque, he kinda wanted a son I reckon, he was partial to Me and gave Me the easy work and fed Me all the time..you know the fresh stuff so I wasn't inclined to scurvy..apples whens theys were here...oranges and salt in rations he kinda shared with me.Odd how I was found at sea and in the middle of nowheres they say..just like I was plunked down in the ocean like a drowning rat , lucky it was in front of the HMS Frigate Triumph..not much to see but it was dryer than I had seen in a while...anyways Joque fished me out and dryed Me up ..said he'd never seen a boy with that much hair.so a hair cut was in order...threw me some dry clothes that dinna smell like stinky fish and here I were.
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© 2011 Eclipsing Moon-blood red
Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 10:24 AM UTC
You are allowed to be disgusted and denounce these early hours.
(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXII)
Let's talk of scarlet vines which boldly trail
Across this wasteland yellows own from hence,
Orange like a note what'd gaily trim the sense
Of changing leaves, where purple winks in frail
Touch deep maroon knows best, while blues detail
Tinged with ist lavendar? Green maples thence
On fire that slowly burns their staid pretense,
Ah me, still let us talk of scarlet's tale.
I can do nothing right. The weekend, fer
Aught hope of dating's here, and I shall do
Time like I dinna care, cuz in a poor
Excuse I'm hard to get. Swoon over who
Does not but tease whileas he cares, and you're
All wiser. Shaun. Why wake me? I liked you.
21Oct16c
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC
...what half freaked me out was, having been mulling the first line, the thing itself overtook me like it was some wrestling match.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXLII)
Fog manifests itself in headlights, hale
White haunting lo, the black night til, what hence?
How mists oertake aught trying for passage, dense
Naught blotting out the distance like no bail
Exists, until I canna help, nor fail
To thus reduce speed as "password?!" thence
Seems now demanded, so I pray, defense
But Thee alone, oh LORD, Whom shall avail.
If fear was what they wanted, I'd as t'were
A start of it, recalling folk complaining too
Oer its keen essence blocking travel, poor
As mulling how I cherished it, t'would do
Me in now, in a trice, if only. Stir
Vague mem'ries of its courtship like, what's true?
27Oct24a
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 10:47 AM UTC
Och! Airn an’ Thundir! Great Orrah!
Ere ye a' sune an’ syne fast, verra fast ***
Wae Verra Skye-Storne Hye,
Skye-Unleashed, IT! Clitheroe's Gory Orrah!
Frae mah Burnan’ Skye-Rage,
An' unco Airn-Curse o’er ye a',
Downe, downe! owre downe!
Theis Moorlan Firey Grass flyin’,
Dinna Daur! Ah say, Dinna Daur!
Tae mah Verra Skye-Roaran’
An' Skye-Furious Bellum, Guid Orrah!
Nae tae baith nowe listen!
Nor tae set futis ageyne, Ah say!
Wae yer unco dishonorable duds,
Oan Theis Verra Nobil Glamis’ Hal’,
Kingdom o' Scotland IT, Airn-Auld,
Robert th' Bruce Micht,
Ironclad, her Ruler, wae Wois Loud!
Fore, ne’er, ne’er, Ah skye-yell;
AH UNCO WADNA!
AH UNCO WADNA!
Great Guid, Verra Guid Orrah!
Wae mah Bleezan Skye-Blade o’ War,
An’ Verra, Verra Guid Gilded Targe,
Auldfarran, juist twich ye a'!
Whene'er, an’ unco fore’er,
Intae THEIS DEEP LOCH O' RID HEL,
An' thro' yondir War-Thundir, och!
Wae mah Skye-Skean steel-fechtin’.
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC