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Category Archives: Travel

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The Fringe Binge

Super inflate ego

Try n’ catch

show after show.

Don’t ye know

the fringe is in toon.

Multinational,

mostly loons,

extrovert spoons!

Gulls soar,

below them the roar,

sometimes (mostly)

the snore,

at a cacophonous

banquet ae stage

ae streets, closes

an wynds.

For me the poet

am far frae blind.

That the councils

profiteering

hus murdered,

what used ti be quite

endearing.

Ah bet the fat cats

at locals they’re sneering,

whilst this stage

can rage

pull in mair

than just wage.

An that am afraid

means nose ti tail snail

ae everything.

Trains, buses, cars

even rickshaws.

Heavily guarded by street

permit laws (wi nae flaws)

Pretty pouts from every nation

on corners, smile, laugh

and hand oot flyers.

Nae use ti me,

am this toons biggest blagger

The barmy poet,

the unknown Jagger.

The arts in Scotland,

Find it hard ti reach

oot thur hand

Ti local talents,

Performers alike.

When a schemmie asks

they reply a polite.

“Call back another time”

be honest

say it right

“Take a hike, get oan yer bike”

Suits me fine,

coz oan yer liturgy

I’ll expose yer greedy crimes,

This is the 21st Century

ma opinions arenae

and will never be soley confined!

and coz the internet-igrity

willnae be a well guarded

secret for those sitting pretty.

 

This was written when I last lived in the city, indeed Scotland, (2001) and is by no means my opinion today. I have learned a lot about the new incentives for Scottish writers as well as the lottery funds that are helping more aspiring writers and artists from all over the world who are now based in Scotland.

I include my review for the two productions I contributed to for the sake of entertaining during the Fringe Festivals of 1996 and 97. Those were fun to write produce and act in.

I might add that the International festival is a heap of sh**! unless you’re loaded of course, then you get all that crap.

 

Somewhere between Jay with Kingfishers samurai armour are you
Exotic, like many here, to be captured by sensors and eyes delight
I am trying to distinguish between you and the others
what language you chirp, caw or sing
I get close, but you stay quiet, perplexed as to what I am
and perhaps why I don’t look like the usual cyclops with zoom lens
Who ironically want to tweet about you not tweeting
as if the flickr of their imaginations can repeat the experience
of sweating under late afternoon’s tropical fragrances.
Escaping Bangkok’s traffic (although never the humidity)
under magnificent shade of this cypress meets grand oak.
I will fetch the name of that pink flowered perch you’re in
Cherry blossom is as close a match as my knowledge pairs.
I too, fancy your portrait framed there, resplendent, surreal
However, you seem to appear then vanish sometimes.
Your azure blue feathers, radiating their neon illusion
but that’s only when I try to snap you at close range
funnily enough, you’re living up to your title; Fairy bird.

 

I raced towards the forest with my daughter

Attracted by a sound like running water

And lone behold what a strange sight we found

A flock of grey thrush, in their hundreds around

My mind turned to Hitchcock and what he could’ve thought

To see a gathering of birds so abundant

My initial “Why?” was redundant

But soon found that their prey were rowans

Red, fruitful, late autumn remnants

And like the great man, I too was weirdly affected

By this obstreperous flurry and pecking

George

And his mamma cried…:P

I tapped cautiously my finger. You scurried that way, only you can do. Upside down on the bathroom ceiling, making me remember your intricacies. All woven in nature’s genial design of air expelling hairs on your feet that allow you traction anywhere.

Macro camera focus on your reptilian armour. Smooth scales but gossamer thin, skeletal, bare.

You’re tragically wasting away. Starving by the looks of the plastic lid bulging painfully in your thorax. Mistaken lunch, or supper perhaps?

I pity I could not help you, or it out.

And those eyes; unique exoplanets and exotic in their own right. Hazel opals with a blunt logo of your former self.  I can see that in your deathly iris.  Inside, infinitely black, endless, yet calm. Perhaps where you departed so easily to, and surprising…no…shocking me.

Or was it I you?

By falling with your half grown new tail. First, onto my lens. Then, I studied your featherweight in my palm. Intrigued and inspiring me to interpret you with this poem come epitaph. When perhaps your days doing your duty were more deserving of a psalm.

You were always going in to the light. In this life for bugs and now perhaps immortality…that makes me smile a bit. Thinking of you in that heavenly place where all the ghosts of your victims await you to devour them all over again.

HK Botanics

Panda food lassoed together with tie wraps

that are made in China

Up, up and away

this scaffold holds

for real estate in the clouds

Beanstalk madness

The gold in those peaks

Lofty status with no quo

Amazed they make is man’s ingenuity

with half an acre

More occupants than rain forest’s canopy

Squeeze pressed, ubiquitous chaos

And content to suicide on pollutants

Airborne legacy of industry greed

Unethical dumping,

moral…something

Carcinogenic bleed

Yellow, Yangtze

Wind Rain, Soil, Sea

Give or take a few city trees

Cages for the wildlife

Feasts for the fleas

and LED discotheques

Hong Kong is not for me

Content to be a minority

Fresh air and water

Again my priority

Hello  and many thanks to my new readers and followers. I’ve also been very impressed by those of you who do take time to read my work.

Depending on what rocks your boat, you can never really get bored with the sky at night and with today’s new technologies in telescopes (in space) we really are on the verge of seeing the marvels of things that were just too far away to learn about in the past. What’s actually visible inspires and spaceweather, such as borealis, noctilucent clouds and the frequent meteor showers we can see – given the weather is with us – are worth piling on the layers and getting out there to witness. I do or I’ve just been out there camping, fishing, even hungry and homeless on a couple of occasions, but I can’t say I’ve ever found them anything short of inspiring. I also like to pass time by counting meteorites against satellites or I join the dots and think about the size of those Goliaths like Sirius, Betelgeuse, Acturus.

Also, for those of you who enjoy things celestial, there is a fantastic resource here (https://www.zooniverse.org) that are always looking for help identifying blobs in space and other stuff.

My last poem about the aurora borealis (Lambent Scent) was well received and I forgot that I had written a few more about their brilliance. Here is another…Borealis

Borealis Bliss

As if looking at the sunshine

From ten metres under an unpolluted ocean

(If one exists that is)

A wave, here and there

Carries the shaft of that sunlight

For a split second

Rolls it in a long dancing ripple

Where it meets a rip tide

And frantically disperses

Its colours, they are better than fine

They are in comparison to St Elmo’s fire

Occasionally dusted with violets, crimsons

But nearly always nuances of electric green

They differ too,

Take tonight; a corona

Not a school of celestial sardines

Fleeing imaginary porpoise

Or a well seasoned wood

Being devoured by flame

I learned through the Internet

There are seven different orchestras

Each a random, inviolable masterpiece

Of stardust and magnetic collisions of

Ionosphere’s molecules and Van Allen Zone

They amaze my brain each time

No matter how faint

With wonder and brilliance

And enough inspiration

To drag my tired self indoors

Pick up a pencil

And shutter my thoughts of them

I have a small collection of my astronomy poetry ‘What IS The Stars’ that I’ll make available for a free download in the next months. Reading about e-publishing is one thing, but the actual formatting and doing it is taking a bit longer than I anticipated. Advice of you who have been there already is welcome.

Powertiyerpens

Image

Some lures catch more fishermen than fish

This was a day when the clouds warned rain

But on reaching the sea didn’t go insane

With their threatening sweat

Instead, the sun broke through, burned bright,

Melanoma, to my hands, face and neck

It was an early start for this hunter of fish

Using bait, lures, humming and whistle

I still fulfilled no wish

For my dinner dish

What I did catch though

Were all those cormorants

A gannet, three seals, an otter, kittiwakes

And other gull species having their fun

On wind and tide’s surging flow

Afterwards, using my wit,

In the local town

When the sales woman at the fishing shop counter

Said:”Oh, here, I like how these dangle

And that shining thing would make a nice…

Christmas decoration.

Are you sure it’s for fishing?”

”Only for this side of the rod,

For keeping warm your bod.

That’s a hipflask for storing your whisky”

”I’ve never drank it myself, but I hear it makes you …”

”Frisky?”  I interrupted with a smile

”No extremely drunk!” came her astounded reply

We both laughed hard

I shopped a lure or three

To replace my losses to the sea

Before I was on my way,

I turned back to her to say

”Watch out for the drinkers of frisky!”

”At my age. That will be the day!”

”You never know sweetheart? For after a few drams of

Scotland’s national drink, you would be surprised

How charming it can make some men think!”.

”Really? So, are you busy tonight?”

Asked with raised hipflask, puckered lips and wink

” Eh…Aye!, sorry, bye!”

And I was gone with a wave and a flush on my face

Walking swiftly along the pathway paved

I thought about our converse and how bad I had been

To flirt with a woman, who’d better days seen!

Craig

I’m no Sugar Ray, Lynch or Ali

But I return to the ring in Trondheim’s valley

The same faces (and haircuts) adourn the hall

The punch bags, skipping ropes, medicine ball

The aged, hieroglyph cheeks and faces, watch and nod

The fighters taking aim on where to place their thuds

Whilst I pretend I am a decade behind my shell

Unfortunately, the trainer’s circuit is a telling hell

I hope to be fitter, stronger, faster, soon

But muscles elastic is agreeing ‘next blue moon’

I kill this big bag with a flurry of punches

It doesn’t fight back from my pounding crunches

Thank Jedi I say, that this is just play

And no championships to train for again, nay

Those days are over and the gloves are well hung

The battle is over the last bell has rung

From here on in, boxing’s for fun

To keep old warrior keen with less tum

Image

A Beach in Thailand, at peace forever hopefully

Unpredictable contradictions

Between the crust’s frictions

Instantly jerks, slips, slides

Vivid eruption of time and tides

Caustic upon life’s shores

After stresses want no more

On land or ocean’s floor

Mother’s power is gigantic

Her consequences Titanic

Causing Tsunami waves slick

Shudders, erupts, quick

Brick upon tumbling brick

Or fatal blow, stab and kick

Indiscriminately killing

Rich and poor alike,

The sick and healthy

Our world’s stresses

Feed, relentless, staying wealthy

Light forks 2

The night alights wi thunderous frights.

The arteries ae the heavens show thursels.

Ma heid felt heavy before the whips ae hell announced,

like two fleets ae super-tankers colliding;

thur collective contents ae summers heat, sweat ‘beads

fell in cacophonous applause on the bouquet ae warm tarmac.

Gulls laughed at I, mental bammer guy who wi a screen strained eye

couldnae miss bein eye-witness ti a rare midsummer storm hiss.

Head drifted an gawped above, whilst feet strolled, happy, quicker, stourrie;

then stopped.

Eyes watched, mortality questioned, but stood bold.

Waitin and watchin an darin itself,

to come oot  frae underneath that railway bridge,

and stand back oot in the Wester Hailes car park.

At that rate ae spate, a thought a’d huv ti wait,

fir the RNLI, or, at least until a saw that bhoy wi the ark!

So take heed, coz ye’ll be potted mead

if ye get hit wi one ae natures mega sparks

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