"ower" poems
Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
On blythe Yule Night when we were fu’,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Maggie coost her head fu’ high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Duncan fleeched, and Duncan prayed;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Duncan sighed baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer’t and blin’,
Spak o’ lowpin ower a linn;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Time and Chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Slighted love is sair to bide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie dee?
She may *** to -France for me!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
How it comes let Doctors tell,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Meg grew sick as he grew hale,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Something in her ***** wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;
And O her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Duncan was a lad o’ grace,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Maggie’s was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling Pity smoored his Wrath;
Now they’re crouse and canty baith,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
4.1k
An ither Burns night,
Has finally come alang,
If you've got an invite,
You'll hae to sing a song,
You'll soon be reciting poems,
Wi a whisky in one hand,
A haggis in the ither,
You'll be feeling mighty grand,
Daein wan o Rabbies,
Or wan you've writ yersel,
Gie it public airing,
You'll hae us in a spell,
Once the night's ower,
Poems spinning round yer heid,
Burns night is for aw body,
It's a pity that he's deid.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
Cauld-bluided, humphing ower the stark grey hills
Gowd een skinkle to an fro
Split tongue lappin at the wind-blown smells
Bog grass blackens whaur ye go
Smoke split shielings and the clammerin o bairns
Bone cracked mithers in yer wake
Heirt-scaud ruin fae the valleys tae the cairns
Driven by a drouth ye canny slake
Crib tale shapit unner creakin heather thatch
Howf born craitur o the nicht
Auld sangs spake aboot the maidens ye would ******
Fleggit bairns tae keep intil the licht
True? Naw, havers, juist the blaflum o wives
God nivver biggit ocht sae fell
But ae bairn crouchin in the ruins o its life
Can think o naethin else the tale tae tell
Blin, lost, forwandert fae the shattered faimly hame
Warslin wi fear tae unnerstan
White winds whistle as he gies the beast a name
And dragons whiles can take the form o man.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
So aye
We wir watchin
that David Attenborough
or tryin tae -
fower weans tearin up the joint,
an she's like,
See if youse dinny shut it...!
an aw that, ken -
You no gonny tell thum?
So ah'm like,
"Aye.
Wheesht, youse."
But it wis amazin, like.
These fish.
Years oot at sea.
Tiny wee at first,
dodgin sharks an jellyfish
an aw sorts,
awa oot, miles fae land.
(*God! Youse! Take it up the stair!
Tell thum, you!*
"Aye, boys. Listen tae yir ma.")
Then wan day, like
they get the urge, ken?
Got tae go.
An in they come,
surgin fae the sea,
these sleek, silver bullets
fat wi feedin.
(I'll no tell yis again!)
Nothin, an ah mean nothing
is gonny stop them.
Waterfalls? Nae bother.
Just pure hungry
fir the lassies, ken?
The boy Attenborough sais
they dinny even eat!
(*That's it! Ah tellt ye!
Here you! Take some responsibility,
wull ye?*
"Eh? Oh, aye.
Away tae yir rooms, boys -
yir ma tellt ye.")
These pure ***** divils
will loup up sheer cliffs,
baws burstin, bi the look ay it.
Poetry in motion, ken?
Like, ah dinny ken, pure water
brought tae life, an that.
Jist pure savage.
An then, haw -
they find the lassies!
An it's jist, like,
'splurge'!
Done the deed.
Gemme ower,
job done,
deid.
An there's this shot.
Ripplin shallows,
just fill ay the twitchin bodies.
Craws an bears an that,
queuin up fir the bonanza.
Jist, like,
totally
spent.
An she's aw,
*Here, is that no terrible?
Pair buggers!
Eifter aw that!*
An ah'm like,
"Aye."
But see inside,
ah'm thinkin,
"Lucky,
lucky ********
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
Ah didny recognise him fae the eulogy.
The meenister'd nivver met the lad, Ah could see.
A hero? Aye, mibbe. Jist a name tae maist ay these fowk.
But ah kent im as a boay,
the daft wee scapegoat, ayewis in boather,
but nae real hairm in im.
He wis the lad wha'd get skelped, the noise
makkin the teacher turn is heid
jist in time tae spot im skelpin back.
Mairched tae the heidie again.
"Yir a bad lot, Barry.
Yir faither wis a bad lot too."
Puir Baz.
Da in the jile,
Ma aff her face on smack,
an him, daft, funny, doomed.
If onybody at hame had cared enough
tae keep the schuil photies,
they'd have shown a wee freckly laddie
wi a too-open grin,
year eftir year,
jersey gettin tattier,
teeth getting gappier,
still grinnin while the rest ay us
were far too cool tae smile for the camera.
Ah liked im.
Didny unnerstaun how the teachers
were sae ***** tae im.
There wis far badder boays in the year.
Ricky ****** Jackson - a nasty, sleekit wee body,
yankin ab'dy's strings.
But his da wis rich
an the teachers fawned ower im.
No Baz, though.
Cannon fodder, richt enough.
Tackin the flack fir the rest ay us.
Exactly the kind ay lad
the ******* Army thrives on.
Ah canny feel the patriotic pride,
canny picture the self-sacrifice,
the heroism.
Ah can juist see im,
daft an grinnin,
daein whit he wis tellt
an gettin killt.
Mind you,
he wis aye headin for the poppies, that yin,
One wey
or anither.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Whoa.
See that yin?
Jist sittin there?
Ye ken how she’s sittin like that, don’t ye?
Well, whit’s she sittin oan?
Aye, her erse.
She’s only sittin like that
So ye ken she’s got an erse.
Gaggin fir it.
An whoa, check that yin!
Wearin claes!
Filthy cow!
Whit dae ye mean, “Whit dae ah mean”?
Claes!
Ye canny wear claes
If ye huvny got a boady, can ye?
That’s right –
Just screamin it, so she is –
“Check oot ma boady!”
Aye, ah wull an aw!
Don’t mind if ah dae!
Aw, mate – that yin!
That yin ower there!
Bendin her airm!
See her?
Bendin her airm like a mucky ****
That’s so ye ken
She’s got elbows!
Phwoar, I ken your type hen –
you wi yir elbows an a’thin!
Desperate fur it, aren’t ye?
An man! This yin,
walkin towards us!
Breathin in an oot!
Whit a slapper!
Breathin in an oot!
Aye, ye need a pair o lungs tae dae that,
I bet, eh, hen?
A pair o fine, functioning lungs!
Aye, you use them, doll –
dinny you be shy!
Ah’m no!
Aw pal, haud me back!
This yin!
This yin eatin a meat pie!
Shameless wee ****
Aw yeah, baby,
I ken whit that means!
Mean’s ye’ve got yirsel
a **** wee digestive tract in there, no?
Ye dinny hae tae spell it oot tae me, love!
Probably got a pair o kidneys
tucked away in there too,
ye ***** wee *****
Aw the same, ur they no?
Aw ae thum.
Gantin oan it.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
In your story you are the protagonist.
While I am a dutiful caretaker,
I want you to let me sink,
Lower & deeper into your eyes,
Loving we have come to each other.
A a true lover and admirer I am,
Listen to my heartbeat someday,
When I will not miss your glam,
Amazing is this love they'll say,
Yours I will forever be the dam,
Shall I ever miss you madam?
Lean down I will to kiss you,
On your forehead, cheeks & lips,
Very softly I will be kissing you,
Entering you it will be a bliss.
You love and desire me so much,
Of your craze I am so crazy,
Unnatural your faith is.
My dream is coming true in you,
You I will always be so thankful.
Pushing my efforts I always am,
Oath of love is unbreakable here,
On this lovely and smooth tram,
Jinx they may but none we fear,
Always be happy with you I am.
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Im a little drunk right now but who isn't right now. We all in some way are trying to escape from our true emotions to some place we can make Sence of ower lifes in such a Cruel World where the less fortunate are Looked down on and the rich are cherished. Theres a reson why there are drug's to because they are the best and fastest way to escape from reality for those of us who can't deal with the true reality of our lifes they are here for us. Even when no one else is.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Mcdonald says
A jimmy wis lost
in Auld Reekie
'n' sae asked
a polis boaby
is thare
a B& Q in Leith?
'
n' th' polis boaby said
Na bit thare is
a D & E in Dundee.
We hud a roar
'n' Finch bought
th' neist round o' drinks.
A scotsman wis
in a taxicab
whin th' driver said
Th' brakes dinnae wirk
'n' we ur gaun
doon th' road
'n' ower th' cliff.
Sae th' Scotsman said
If ye cannae
stoap th' taxi
at least stoap
th' ruddy meter.
Ah laughed
bit he juist sat thare
wi' that straecht goup
o' his
smoking his ***
wi' care.
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 4:33 AM UTC
Wage-slave, renter, debt-ower doer
of nothing now, but consumption
- I consume power
- I use power another might
- I listen to the news, I seldom read
I tried, I tried, said the tennis worker,
whose name caught my ear-
Stefanos Tsitsipas, sounds
like Sisyphus, my happy
reminder.
We push our way
to new places, or we may
pay our pointy gnosis snif ifery
attention to sign-if-icant curiosis
need, to know way to go. At tend to,
that, we all need that
one thing,
one needful thing, one thing
we do,
that none other may do, we
see one thing- this is me, my bit of us,
we bubble with joy when doing this,
doing this, and that,
another doing that,
and, indeed, we do as we
see one thing…
form
a point to life, poetry, the mythic force.
Eustacy, joy's veritable power,
swells with a feeling now called pride.
Joy is not the pride that comes
before the fall.
Joy, heartfelt,
next-worldly joy, you know,
Joy bell bubbling soul joy,
sensational, subtle, so soft sometimes,
whispers wish wish wish
sweep away the first formed fear, now,
know the need to know
is not a treasure to be horded
omagod.. jagonnasayit jesu
save us, all the treasures, cried to the priest,
the host, cried out to Na'amah,
some tales tell,
is it true?
--maybe, but, it's a retell of a retold tale,
--In this story, Na'amah is Noah's wife,
-- she who bhor alone the knacks of Cain
--- live lyve liv e set free for future use
--- gibberish, you wish, but future use
telley-osis-echo-ist ping ping ping
scrub jay emphasizes, earth time, listen
there are maybes that never are,
scrub jay saying, here am I, there are you,
this is what we do.
-- then a breeze of if-I-knew asked me for a lift.
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 2:56 PM UTC
Loving you was not easy for me,
A lovable man I was approached by many,
Should I move on like you did,
Taming my shame under the veil of modernity.
Lower should I fall than you had dropped me,
Of course, I will never move on,
Veering in love is known to you,
Especially you because your love was untrue.
Well, I should wait for my luck to shine,
Enter I should the next relationship cautiously,
Love I'll with all the pieces of my broken heart,
Come it will sooner than never I am sure,
Of course, I won't move on myself,
Malfunction a true love won't,
Excuses will be missing for another breakup.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
A Yorkshire Lads' Night Out...
Are you theer?
Aye, I am, well, I’m near…
Puffin’, ! How many effin'
steps to get here?"
I said “now then!”
He said “reet!”
“How are you?”
He said “reet…Aye neat!”
“Ar thee?”
I said “Yeah!”
“Tha’s alreet then!”
I said “sha we gerron then?”
He said “Aye…
Me stomach thinks
me throat’s been cut
and Ah'm as dry as uz
father's back ginnel…
Let's av that sup.”
Eh… That’s a reet good drop”.
It should be it’s from
our dad’s own shop.
Tekkin' in the best view in With
we supped and enjoyed the sunset view
ower’t town & sea from lighthouse top.
Aye, T't Keeper's a mate a marn!
I said “I think I’ve had more than you.
So he’d another big-un to level it up!
“I’d say we probably
drank a tad too much”…
cos we staggered a bit on’t
way back home.
“We’ll that were gradely…
“Al si thee then” he said “stay well”.
Aye he said “an you as well!”
Jul 17, 2021
Jul 17, 2021 at 11:35 AM UTC
Don't love me
~
I'm powerless
&
frail like a bound ower
Paralyzed & chased
Plucked like an innocent flower
For thy vanity & egoism
For thy agility & False altruism
a sip of lies
Like a sip of whiskey
Both bitter & sour
Float from lips that once bloomed with power.
Don't love me
Powerless --
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 2:20 PM UTC