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The Thaw

 

The Thaw

Wake my child,

Come walk with me

Allow yourself to

Be transported back in time.

Step forward with glee

Hear the sounds serenading your

Journey, crunch, crunch, crunch.

Experience what it’s like to

Dance in the rain of the trees as you

Look up to see only blue sky

Bask in the glory of the sun

Melt like the frost as you

Return home to thaw

Drift off to sleep once more and

Remember always to

Dream

The Thaw 2

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Fully mature she stood before me,

terrifying in her magnificence.

Struggling and straining, getting nowhere;

her desire to be free nearly extinguished.

Little puffs of smoke billowed from her,

reminding me of the glory she once held.

Scarlet and black, a warning to the faint of heart.

Her monstrous girth, petrifying yet tantalising,

inviting me to look deeper, to search for something.

It was then I noticed the shackles.

She was chained, how was it possible?

Tethered to the ground, no longer able to fly,

it was in that moment I looked into her eyes.

I searched beyond the fire and rage,

into the beasts very soul.

There staring back at me

stood my own reflection

cultivated throughout the years.

Inside were all my anxieties,

wrapped up amongst my fears.

The hurt and pain laid bare

glistening like unshed tears.

I reached over to her carefully,

a gentle hand was needed here.

“Oh my darling dragon, don’t fret,

I am here.  I am here.  I am here.”

I stroked that beautiful dragon

and with tenderness I spoke

“You will fly again my darling,

I will liberate you once more.”

Her pleading eyes beseeched me

as she looked towards the door.

It was like I heard her whimper

but I don’t want to fight any more.

“Don’t you worry dragon,

I’ve healed your broken heart

once again, it’s full of love

so when the storm clouds gather

You can soar above.

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May’s Way

And now, the end is near
and my demise is surely certain 
My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve lied, so many times
as I ran through, fields of barley
And more, much more than this, I did it May’s way

Regrets, I’ve had a few
but then again, I’d have to care first.
I did what I had to do, robbed the poor without exemption
With cuts I fecked you all, the disabled I hit worst
And more, much more than this, I did it May’s way

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
And through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it May’s way

I’ve smirked, and laughed and cried
You had your fill, of my abusing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
“Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it May’s way”

For what is a Tory, what have I got?
With no party, will I be caught? 
Forgetting those who feel, for those who kneel
The record shows I took the blows and did it May’s way!

https://ponderingsfrompaisley.wordpress.com/2017/05/31/3178/

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As the piper played,

the blood dripped from wounded men

staining more than the land they fell on.

Tears of the living and the dead;

etched on the heart of the future,

grief a century would not erase.

The tears still fall,

as the piper plays.

 

As the piper played,

the strength ripped from broken hearts

straining more than the chests they came from

screams from the living and the dead

carved on the body of life

a warning to never forget.

The tears still fall,

as the piper plays.

 

As the piper played,

the breath slipped from shattered lives

chaining more than the band they fell from,

to remember the living and the dead

and carry them with them

in their hearts and minds forever.

The tears still fall,

as the piper plays.

 

As the piper played,

the life slipped from tortured souls;

chaining more than the sand they fell upon;

bound to the living and the dead

imprisoned by their sorrow

never forgetting the fallen.

The tears still fall,

as the piper plays.

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Let me take you down

‘cause I’m going too

a land where strawberries

are sometimes blue.

Bare-foot, right hand

no backward glance

Scuttling the surface

on pillars of sand

Marching to the beat

providing sustenance

the people eat and bow

to kiss their feet

Signposts to deception,

revolution and reflection

Banded together

in an art collection

Buried truth

or a shroud of lies?

The dreamer awake

and the singer who died.

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Forever Yew

The Craigends Yew by Rashelle Reid

Yew

tree, layering,

enticing; the curious,

the seeker to contemplate,

signs, rebirth is always occurring

and that even decay can herald

the birth of new life.

As the cycle continues

and the circle

remains unbroken

forever.

 

Forever Yew

The Craigends Yew by Rashelle Reid


 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craigends_Yew

 

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Embed from Getty Images

An orange-man and a tangerine woman were walking by the Clyde, they weren’t holding hands just strolling side by side. Softened for the camera May looked into his eyes whispering, “I love our special relationship as much as I love telling lies.”

“We’ll keep your Trident missiles right here upon our shore, and when you want new ones just say and I’ll make more, don’t even worry about the money, I’ll just take it from the poor.”

The orange-man began to trumpet so excited was he, “Oh my darling woman, just you wait and see. I have a wonderful idea that I must get off my chest. We can kill even more off by privatising your NHS.

Trembling with excitement May took him by the hand “Oh my darling Donald, I knew you’d understand”

He grabbed her by the pussy, like he promised some time ago. He knew he didn’t have to worry about her saying no.  Soon they were naked and writhing on the floor and the only sound that could be heard for miles was a tangerine woman screaming more.

“Shoot your load, shoot your load just like the soldiers on my streets and then let’s get back to work and prepare their final defeat. From chaos will come order, just as we’d planned all along, a one world government to sing the song of songs.

Spent he snuggled up beside her, dreaming of all that was still to be, him the King of the new world with his tangerine queen on his knee.

As he drifted off to sleep with a smile upon his lips. She stood over him cackling with her hands upon her hips. “You really think so darling, that I’ll just be your little toy when all you do is throw tantrums just like a little boy. I’ll be queen of the new world, a Goddess in red, white and blue, now all I’ve got to do is finish disposing of you.”

Her tangerine suit now back on, she slipped her hand into her pocket, it was time to get rid of this bright, orange, fecking rocket. The keys of the palace twinkled in her hand, oh my dear Donald I’m sure you’d understand. She opened up her keyring the little Swiss army knife, how could he ever think that she would be his wife. She slit his throat knowing the body would be easy to hide, she didn’t need to dig a hole she just dumped him in the Clyde.

http://www.cnduk.org/campaigns/no-to-trident

http://selloff.org.uk/

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federation of writers Scotland

The Federation of Writers (Scotland) is an organisation dedicated to making the written and spoken word available to the public of Scotland, with respect for diversity and recognition of additional support needs. Caidreachas nan Sgrìobhaiche (Alba) ’S e prìomh-amas Caidreachas nan Sgrìobhaiche (Alba) litreachas sgrìobhte is labhairte a chur mu choinneamh poball na h-Alba, a’ toirt spèis do dh’iomadachd agus feumannan-taice a bharrachd.

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