The Thistle & The Rose

IMG_20160829_164422424

HOME

This land so very different from the map,
Whose shades of green & grey fail to divulge
The beauty of this place I now call home
I now call home, these words unreal to hear,
How many times I sing them to my mind,
If this is so, I must now be prepared
For all eventualities life keeps,
But balanced in my years let fear subside,
My body following its shining soul,
For she has led me safely here thus far,
Where now I feel a Caledonian,
Sent here by love, by love deposited,
Sensing a while yet I have to remain,
For in this place & time three things converge –
An art, an artist & his heart’s ain surge.


IMG_20160320_195231501.jpg

DEAR SALLY

you         are
poetic     clever
sensual-amusing
sweet-sassy-sharing
warmhearted-caring
adorable-decadent
funny-joyloving
inspirational
kittencute
o baby
I love
you
so
!

 


12002043_1489843638007254_4935507133062052937_n.jpg

ONE THOUSAND KISSES

How much do I adore thee?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A thousand kisses worth!


Mayflowers (2).jpg

IMPERFECT LOVE

You’re not perfect babe
But I love your imperfections
I love the way we’ve been fucking all day
& your orgasm is lasting hours
& I’ve just found a last ounce of strength
& you say, ‘O Darling’
I just can’t do it anymore,
& I’m left listening to your dream-breath
Thinking of fucking you
Instead of fucking you
& I love that
& I love you
You’re not perfect babe
But it’s your imperfections that I love

 


GLOOMINATIONS

There moves a motion within every artist’s life, irrefutable,
Hauntingly beautiful, as when Tommy Wiseau dreamt his ‘Room,’
Mine came with Sanskrit measure’s entry into conscience cosmic focus
One evening’s peace, observing brown bats pinging from Heather Lodge,
Like stormbolts from an Indian god – but of these gods knew nothing,
Tho’ sensing them summoning me, some spirit beyond religion…
I gaze at Sally glancing me on the sails of transitional meaning.

Bats came back at Dawn, woke me with a scratchy chit-chat,
So off to purple Lammermuirs I go with a thousand thought-strands;
All passing place pepper’d, White Castle’s wind-blasted eminence,
Spartlelton, Whiteadders wind-waves; salubrious Longformacus…

As I met Sally down Gifford I pain’d for a love now different,
And I could smell Cupid’s dark agents sharpening knives for tortures –
Thus blows the balance deferential betwyx love, muse-love, & ambitions!


WHAT BLEEDS FOR FIVE DAYS & DOES NOT DIE?

She moans about her hormones every second week in four
Goes clattering the cutlery & slamming every door
Like when we yearn’d tranquility, then found a paradise,
But she was full of PMT & said, “It’s not THAT nice,”
Yet women are man’s reason, so when swings the pendulum
Put on your safety helmet for the fireworks to come,
She sulks & yells, her belly swells, her paranoia grows,
Now fear the snarling werewolf where you once could smell a rose,
Cos’ women synch up to the moon, thats just the way things are,
So never say “irrational,” or let her drive the car,
& if you feel frustrated in a very vocal war
Letting your lady win will just infuriate her more;
But when the fun is over, son, there’s one thing you should do –
Embrace your woman, kiss her lips & whisper, “I love you!”


IMG_0113.JPG

LOVE’S REPOSE

Ah Sally! Sweet Sally Cinnamon, hear!
Even now, after all that we’ve gone thro’,
From halycon highs to those awful lows,
The fact we chose to share together
Repose in Scotia’s fertile land; where fruit
Grows wild; remember gooseberries were found,
Where Falcons vie with Crows to claim the sky,
Where vista-on-vista splendidly glows
Before eyes remember them when they close,
Where Whittinghame Water flows carefree,
Free as these souls of ours; suppose they met
When they were sleeping, as windy fate blows
Life grows, so rose us from dim city streets
Like poesy from prose, come cherish this truth.


 

YESTERDAYS

“Do you remember the good old days?” asks Sally,

“The good old days were SHITE!” I reply,

“Just four television channels
The pubs shut at eleven
TV over by midnight
ZX spectrum games taking ages to load
& all that poverty & austerity
‘We were happy,’ people said
But we weren’t really,
Just ignorant & oblivious to progress!”

“I meant me & you,” says Sally,
& I think I see a tear in her eye.

“I do,” I say, “I do very much!”
& hugg’d her as a lover & a friend.


emsily.jpg

MOODY BLUES

The spirit of romance is with us,
A man a woman & a dog,
Listening to sea-girt, violin concertos.

The weather turns unsettl’d by Tintallon,
Globs of gallivanting gulls, dancing waves
& this single black eagle…

Senses shatter’d by a drunken Seattleite,
I mean… Sally + PMT + alcohol
Equals hell-sent banshee hell-bent on fury.

Relationship psychobabble pierces our nirvana
“We could have stay’d at home to have a row!” say I,
But she keeps on scowling.

I slink to the tent, leave her staring out to sea,
A fisher-widow searching for her long-drown’d love.


img_20170609_183947409-1.jpg

LOVE’S TRUTH

As chemistry glues people together,
However great or toxic love may be,
Relinquishing the flight of the feather,
Let us ride this stormy weather, you & me.

As like that lone fuggazi on the sea
Which saw poor Shelley’s galley torn in two,
Its pilot haunted by the memory,
Oft fled in fretful thought, like me & you,

To troubl’d shells our turtle minds withdrew,
Where I observ’d thee when you were withdrawn,
Searching your soul for something bright & new
& with that search a chance to be reborn!

If that is so, my love, I shall depart,
& rest these bitter testings of this heart.


us-linkey-lea-1024x678.jpg
Linkey Lea festival

LEAVING LOTHIAN

I came, I saw, I ceilidh’d with the Scots,
Veni… vedi… a private victory,
My lady swooning to wild lily-knots,
Oor homestead settl’d in serenity,
Soaking in Scottish sensibility,
Itching beyond mere whistle binkie bards,
I strove for all that’s good in sonnetrie,
Woodwound, museyon the New Town boulevards,
Seertitle shining thro’ the teller’s cards,
What Lothiads dolphin’d across the stage,
Sturdy as Napoleonic grognards,
Peerless as pioneers upon the page,
As with a host of sonnets safe in store,
From Rydal Mounts must makars take their tour.


 

DEPARTURES
 
As planets, in their stolen orbits, sway
Enfizzl’d by the sun’s eternal day,
Thus so the dark emotions of the heart,
Tis best two broken lovers cleave apart;
So, let me go, some Rama far from Seeta –
On second thoughts, maybe I’m yet to meet her.

As Autumn’s vegetation makes decay,
Down Goldenacre-Warriston’s pathway,
I see the sun rise up on Arthur’s Seat,
To silhouette the city’s spinal street;
This is, I think, a hint of things to come –
Like Sufi’s singing Sindhi to a drum.

What joy it is to hit the roads this morn,
Rejuvenated, soul-spruc’d & reborn.


Men's Loos.jpg

ODE TO SCOTLAND

Well I’ve been here for years, but it’s time to do one,
I’ve sank a load of beers & I’ll thank ye for the fun,
Spinnin’ thro hootenannies with a bonnie halean howl,
Purrin’ with pretty pussies on an m-cat prowl,
I’ve driven round Loch Lomond, walk’d five hundred miles yon Tain,
Gone roamin’ in the gloamin’ wrapped in midge-proof cellophane,
I’ve organis’d four Jock Stocks with a need to make ye dance,
& scampered up yer Cuillin rocks as mountain mists advance,
I’ve mused thro’ an Ediniad of sonnets Reekie round,
The best nights that I’ll ever have with best friends that I’ve found,
But something in a poet’s soul must sail his craft abroad,
To leave behind the rock n roll, when lightening the load
They’ll furrow forth down foreign streams, forgetting never they
Those places full of god-sent dreams, like Garvald & Carfrae.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s