I saw, while browsing today, that it was World Poetry Day.
I was trying to think what, or even whether to post.
While in Blairgowrie Library; depressingly empty, which the cynic in me says is exactly what the local council wants, i thought of a local poet; of whom I actually know little beyond that he was born in the parish in which I now reside.
However, I think I have found a poem which resonates with me just now, and here it is.
Roch the wind in the clear day's dawin
Blaws the cloods heelster-owdie pw'r the bay,
But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin
Through the great glen o' the warld the day.
It's a thocht that will gar oor rottans
- A' they rogues that gang gallus, fresh and gay -
Tak the road, and seek ither loanins
For their ill ploys, tae sport and play
Nae mair will the bonnie callants
Mairch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw
Nor wee weans frae pit-heid and clachan
Mourn the ships sailin' doon the Broomielaw.
Broken faimlies in lands we've herriet,
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mair, nae mair;
Black and ehite, ane til ither mairriet,
Mak the vile barracks o' their maisters bare.
So come all ye at hame wi' Freedom,
Never heed whit the hoodies croak for doom.
In your hoose a' the bairns o' Adam
Can find breid, barley-bree and painted room.
When MacLean meets wi's freens in Springburn
A' the roses and geans will turn bloom,
And a black boy frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o' the burghers doon.
Goddess watch over us all,
'tis ok to be Takei