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Gin
No the Now, then Whan? a
poem in mild Scots
Och, gin no the now, then whan?
Gin no the beginning o this new millennium, whan?
Hae we nae memry o Wallace's dreams?
Wid we rather sit back than break open the seams?
A tear hae been shed for aw that hae died,
and nou there are rivers that flow through wir land,
wir land, they died for, just like thay wrote,
'not for riches, nor honor, but freedom alane!'
Can we no stop gien them time oot wir days,
and pay some heed to wir ane nation's ways,
lets tak back wir land and tak back wir tongue,
and speak like we mean it whan we teach wir young,
Scotland's no juist a pairt o a modern scheme,
she's a nation that's prood o the places she's been,
she can stand on her ain and on her ain she will stand,
with the air o' being free flowing aw through her land.
Scotia! Alba! Thay say rise up and be a nation again,
Ye never stopped bein ane...
But thay need tellin again.
Until
Tonight I'll Wait The
right moment to say I love you Soft
sound of the piano strings
The right notes, the right time
I love you, I should tell you
But perhaps it can wait.
The candle flickers, dancing flame
Across from me you smile
I feel like flying, taking you away
But perhaps it can wait.
Your delicate fingers inches from mine
I want to hold you, dance with you
Dawn is near, you’ll have to go
And reality doesn’t wait.
The sun begins its daily task
We kiss goodbye in silence
The day is anxious to lead you away
And we know it will not wait.
You’re gone but scheduled to return
When the moon comes out to play
I want to tell you now I love you
But until tonight, I’ll wait.
The four
poems on this page are featured in "Plant
the Flower Again", a volume of poetry by Andrew McDiarmid. Order a
copy today for yourself or a friend.
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Song
Of The Waters
a poem of
water and winds
Beneath
the clouds of silvery gray,
The grass grows greener every day,
Whispering winds make wandering waves,
That lap against the land.
Sitting quietly on the shore,
I can hear things never heard before,
Down the mountain comes the song,
That echoes in my soul.
Quietly a piper plays,
A melody that moves the waves,
The silvery moonbeams dance the tide,
As the heather sways in rhythm.
"Morning still is far away",
I hear the East winds gently say,
They sweep the land and chill the trees,
Until they've reached the West.
Lying there, I'm warm inside,
In the song of the waters I confide,
A song so gentle and full of peace,
Through night until the morning.
Winter a
testament to Scotland's
cold months When
the snow falls,
Over barren hills,
When the wind blows,
Sending cold, dark chills,
Inside a house,
Inside an inn,
The fire is warm,
And burns within,
The trees are bare,
The animals hide,
The water is frozen,
It's cold outside,
The sky is dark,
The birds are gone,
The wind has chased them,
Far from home,
The snowman lives,
The scarecrow dies,
The snowballs form,
The songbirds cry,
All is dark,
And all is cold,
Warm is gone,
And winter unfolds.
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