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| Poets' Corner
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The "Messenger" often prints poems suggested by readers, found by the editor or written by members and friends of St Mark's. These have all appeared in the magazine are are now collected in our own on-line "anthology" |
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From the Winter 2007 Messenger This was spotted in a garden in Mevagissey, Cornwall Kind Hearts is the Garden
Kind Thoughts is the Roots
Kind Words is the Blossom
Kind Deeds is the Fruit Something To Smile About When God gave out brains
I thought He said trains
And I missed mine When God gave out looks
I thought He said books
And I said I didn’t want any When God gave out noses
I thought He said roses
So I asked for a big red one When God gave out legs
I thought He said kegs
So I asked for two fat ones When God gave out heads
I thought He said beds
So I asked for a soft one
I’m in a terrible mess! Post Festive Blues! 'Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The chocolates I'd nibbled, the puddings I did taste
At the Christmas parties had gone to my waist. When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
So I walked to the shops (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvellous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared. The wine and the nibbles, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
I regretted I’d tried every full fat dessert! I said to myself, as I only can
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"
So--away with the last of crisps and the dips,
Get rid of the fruit cake, think of the hips! Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Till the additional ounces have with difficulty, vanished.
I won't have a sweetie--not even a lick.
I'll make do chewing a long celery stick. I won't have cream crackers, or pizza, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
No ‘fine sticky piece’ no chocolate éclair,
January’s a miserable month, I declare. It’s not only the turkey that needs a good trimming
Happy New Year, now — get on with the slimming!
Anon This poem was written by Neil Yacamini for the Aberdeen Writers' Circle Schools' Poetry Competition and appeared in the Autumn 2007 Messenger. My Cousin Lucy She is a bright star in the sky,
a little lion roaring in the jungle,
a red rose in the back garden,
a pretty snowflake falling from the sky,
a bright sun in the light sky,
a pretty picture on my bedroom shelf,
a moon in the night sky,
a purple flower glowing outside.
She is good as gold,
a cute puppy just been born.
She has a heart that never stops loving From the Summer 2007 Messenger Me I’m sometimes happy, sometimes sad,
I’m sometimes thoughtful, sometimes glad. I’m sometimes kind and careful,
I’m sometimes tired and rough I sometimes start to daydream
When life is just too much! I’m sometimes bored and sleepy
After a long day’s toil I’m sometimes good at stories
I’m sometimes slow at work. But the only thing I care about is my lovely island home. Fiona Rennie (10) Isle of Lewis And from the Winter 2006 Messenger The Computer Swallowed Grandma The computer swallowed Grandma,
Yes, honestly it’s true
She pressed “Control” and “Enter”,
And disappeared from view. It devoured her completely
The thought just makes me squirm.
She must have caught a virus
Or been eaten by a worm. I’ve searched through the recycle bin
And files of every kind
I’ve even used the internet
But nothing did I find. In desperation, I asked Jeeves
My searches to refine
The reply from him was negative,
Not a think was found “online”. So if inside your “Inbox” my Grandma you should see,
Please “Copy”, “Scan” and “Paste” her,
And send her back to me! When I am Reminded by Gaye Combs Each day is a new beginning given by God
I am reminded how blessed I am as this road I tread.
A new friendship comes to mind and it is my treasure
Watching a child at play is my greatest pleasure.
Being able to help a fallen soul will be my greatest joy
Watching a bird build a nest while the world searches for the rest.
I am reminded I am only a small part of his plan.
When skies are blue or grey you are always there beside me
I am reminded of God’s love at the sight
Of a rainbow after the rain.
When I see the flag, I am reminded of the freedoms I share
I remember God’s love to me when I suffer much pain.
As the clowns come to town I am grateful I’m able to laugh.
I’ll share your heavy load to let you know I care.
I am reminded day by day we have much to share. A Beautiful Smile by Linda Copp A beautiful smile falls cross your face
When you are happy or full of grace A beautiful smile fills your eyes
When you’re contented or surprised. A beautiful magic attends your soul,
When you have spoken of love untold. |
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‘Twas The (Politically Correct) Night Before Christmas ‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck…..
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to “elves”,
“vertically challenged” they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul. Four reindeers had vanished, without much propriety
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs and you know that looked stupid! The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the men of the day.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened
His fur trimmed red suit was called “unenlightened!” And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose,
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation. So, half of the reindeer were gone—and his wife, who suddenly said she’d enough of this life,
joined a self-help group, packed and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on, her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he’d ne’er had a notion,
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur
Which meant nothing for him and nothing for her. Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacific. No chocolate or sweets….they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
were like David and Posh, better off hidden. For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No rugger, no football…..someone could get hurt.
Besides, playing sports exposed them to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist…. and should be passé,
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away. So Santa just stood there, tried to be gay,
You’ve got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found. Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
Each group of people, every religion; Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth….
“May you and your love ones enjoy peace on earth”. |
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These are from Autumn 2006 and although the first one is not really a poem - here it is anyway. 23rd Psalm in Scots Wha’ is my shepherd weel I ken
The Lord himsel’ is he:
He leads me whaur the girse is green
An’ burnies quiet that be Aft times I fain astray wad gang
An’ wann’r far awa’:
He fin’s me oot, he pits me richt
An’ brings me hame an’ a’. Tho I pass through the gruesome cleuch
Fin’ I ken He is near:
His muckle crook will me defen’
Sae I ha’e nocht to fear Ilk comfort whilk a sheep could need
His thoghtfu’ care provides;
Tho’ wolves and dogs may prowl aboot
In safety me He hides. His goodness an’ his mercy baith
Nae doot will bide wi’ me—
While fallded on the fields o’ time
Or o’ eternity.
John Moir, Banchory
Jars, Jelly and Jam When I wrote this little poem for Sam Ballantyne’s memorial service, I did not realise the impact it would have. I have been asked for copies by many members and non members, and I was only to happy to oblige. I was also asked if I would reprint it in the magazine and I am delighted to do so
(The Minister)
When skies turned grey and autumn came
when the hedgerows brimmed with life
Two people set out n their little car
‘twas Sam and Barbara his wife
They drove into the country lanes
ones filled with berries blue
and they picked until their hands and arms
were coloured with a purple hue They called upon their friends in town
the ones with apple trees
I need your fruit for my jelly pan
so can I take them please? The pots were filled berries
and apples gathered to
boiling well into the night
making that honeyed dew But none of what they did those years
was meant for their own good
‘twas for the folk who needed help
and providing that spiritual food They took them to the coffee shops
they took them to the street
‘twas sold in all the churches
and the folks said it was a treat So Sam now you’re in Heaven
we hope the angels true
like bramble jam and jelly
and are getting it from you! And from Easter 2006 Graces from Other Cultures A Gaelic Blessing
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm on your face
The rain fall softly on your fields;
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of His hand. African Grace
The bread is pure and fresh
The water is cool and clear
Lord of all life, be with us
Lord of all, be near. A Scottish Grace
No ordinary meal, a sacrament awaits us
On our tables daily spread
For men are risking lives on sea and land
That we may dwell in safety and be fed The Messenger has featured poetry by Richard L Anderson, a retired local government officer, living in Oldmeldrum, before. This time Dick has turned his musings to the summer season, sometime in the future when we really feel the effects of global warming. COSTA ALBA Hauf a hunner years hae passed,
April flooers bloom.
Scathing Summer's blast dissolves
Scotia's fading gloom.
Claes cast afore May's time expires'
Folk wi' ootdoor pools.
Wifies ootside efter eight'
Seekin tae be cool. Reid haired mannies sweat an burn'
Curse the lack o' shade.
Pale skins clart on factor Z,
Distilleries' latest trade.
Auld Davie hows his ootdoor toms,
Tweed built coat an breeks.
Yields, an taks his bunnet aff,
Tholes his plottin feet. Nae need fur whisky, neeps an wool,
Windproof tartan shed.
T-shirts an shorts are a' the gear,
Straw bunnets for the head.
But och fur dark, destructive thoughts,
Winter ,glaur an sna.
This relentless sun an fun
disna suit Jock ava. Winter 2005 Messenger God's Book
(Edmund Banyard) Gracious God, teach us a real love for the Bible
Show us how to take it out of its dust jacket
And into our hearts and souls How to carry it joyfully,
From the lecterns and pulpits of our churches
Back into the wide open spaces of your everyday world
Guide us on the great voyage of discovery it urges us to make
Towards the things that are Eternal. Peace Prayer Peace between me and each friend
Peace in the morning and at the day's end
Peace in each hour and the whole day
Peace on my journey and all of the way.
Peace in the work that I need to do
Peace in my life, peace comes from you.
Heat Wave
by Jess Turpin
They said there'd be a heat wave, I heard it on TV
'Twas on the weather forecast (well where else would it be?!)
The grass is getting browner, the flowers begin to wilt.
And I'm sleeping in the altogether, right atop my quilt.
Out come the cushioned loungers, the kiddie paddling pool,
Bermuda shorts, bikinis, soft drinks to keep us cool.
We sport our new sun glasses which we bought doon in the mart.
And smear ourselves in sun tan cream - we have to look the part!
We've built a brand new patio, we're one up on next door
Now we can dine "alfresco" as they say in Singapore!
But they've acquired a barbeque out there beneath the trees
And the smell of burning sausages is wafted on the breeze.
We cannot have it both ways we're shaded or we tan
And if there's not a breath of air we'll need to buy a fan.
We've been oot all the afternoon, it's cooler after 5.00
But then we're plagued wi' midgies which are eatin' us alive.
This anti-housework attitude is not all it may seem;
We close our eyes, relax - sheer bliss - allow ourselves to dream
We're on the French Riviera, at Nice, Marseilles or Cannes
Not in a council garden and wi' a hosepipe ban!
We're wakened from our reveries by one almighty crash
The sky's got that much darker now, there's a lighting flash!
Here comes the rain, pick up yer shoes, lets get inside but fast
A few hot days? an interlude? 'twas just too guid tae last!!
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Summer 2005 Richard L Anderson was born in Ayrshire and lived in several other parts of Scotland before settling in Oldmeldrum in 1975. He is a recently retired local government officer who has worked in Lanarkshire, Aberdeen and Aberdeenshire as a surveyor. In 2000 he began to develop a life long interest in creative writing. His poem" A non-surgical facelift" takes its inspiration from a sign you can see just across the road from the Church and was "premiered" in the Messenger. "Forgiving" and "Crem de la Crem" were first published in the Lemon Tree, Writers Mag. A NON-SURGICAL FACELIFT
West end ladies lunch in John Lewis's,
discussing ,dissecting to-day's incongruity,
non -surgical facelifts are free. How can there be such unfair equality?
Procedures like these require exclusivity,
prohibitive costs should apply. Deputation despatched to shop run by charity.
Offending advertisement displayed quite openly,
FREE FACELIFTS
D.S.S. PREFERRED. Scowling, they enter are welcomed disarmingly.
Radiance reflected promotes self discovery,
non-surgical facelifts are smiles!
FORGIVING Lantern jawed he broadcasts light,
his message to the congregation
is giving free by man and nation
to this neuk and further. The first two rows of pews are vacant,
experience has taught attenders
that when great zeal uplifts his dander
he sprays most generously The Covenanters' Inn's back room,
the elders meet one Friday evening
their hearts, dram warmed, are fou o' giving
sealing kirk's leaking canopy. His treasured daughter's to be wedded,
after a dry and sober marriage
they glide High St. in Daimler's carriage
bypassing expectant bairns. Downcast children stand in groups,
discussing why there was no scatter
concluding coins and cash don't matter
giving and forgiving.
CREM DE LA CREM The provost girns fae doonturnt moo,
"For a' the contests there hae been
fur bonnie flooers an bits o' green
we've won but nane.
COSLA meetings are unpleasant,
boasts and blaws fae counciIs present
wi' plaques an' prizes."
Heid in hauns in dark despair
he seeks suggestions fae the flair. The cooncillor fur Auchenscutter
finds voice mislaid since last October,
"We'll hae a contest suitin' wurselves
pick a subject, fix the rules,
that wey we'll fine and easy manage
tae organise tae oor advantage
a fine like prize fur this toon council." Consternation fills the chamber.
Then from this steer o' claik an' chatter
consensus dawns tae forward matters.
"State of art, efficient an' fast
reducing them that's breathed their last
best in Scotland, future or past
in Dunmelvie's brand new crematorium.
We'll get a firm makin' boilers an' burners
tae sponsor a contest here an' further,
wi' Scotland's best we're bound tae win
we'll ca' it "CREM DE LA CREM."
Spring 2005 Seen in a MethodistChurch If after church you wait awhile Someone may greet you with a smile But, if you quickly rise and flee We'll all seem cold and stiff, maybe. The one beside you in the pew is perhaps a stranger too. All here, like you, have fears and cares All of us need each other's prayers. In fellowship we bid you meet With us around God's mercy seat. The Divine Weaver My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me; I cannot choose the colours, He worketh steadily. Oftentimes he weaveth sorrow and I, in foolish pride,
forget that he seeth the upper, and I the under side.
Not till the loom is silent and the shuttle cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the weaver's skilful hand
as the threads of gold and silver in the pattern he has planned. Thank You (Autumn 2004) Thank you is something people say,
for kindnesses that come their way Thoughtful things that others do Things that mean I thought of you Thank you means that someone shared Someone loved and someone cared It means that someone had a part In lightening someone else's heart. "Today I'm 80" Today dear Lord I'm 80 And there's much I haven't done I hope dear Lord you'll let me live until I'm 81. But then if I have finished all that I want to do, Would you let me stay awhile until I'm 82? So many places I want to go, so very much to see, Do you think that you could manage to make it 83? The world is changing very fast, there is so much in store,
I'd like it very much to live until I'm 84. If by then I'm still alive, I'd like to stay 'til 85. More plans will be in the air, so I'd really like to stick
And see what happens when I'm 86. I know dear Lord it's much to ask (and it must be nice in Heaven!) But I would really like to stay until I'm 87. I know by then I won't be fast, and sometime will be late, But it would be oh so pleasant to be around at 88. But I have seen so many things, and had a wonderful time, So I'm sure that I'll be willing to leave at 89!!.. MAYBE
Mothers
(Summer 2004) M is for Mother - she is divine O is no Other because she is mine T is The love that I have H are the Hugs that I give her for love E is for Ever that she is my mum R is Remembering that she is the one S is the Smile that is on her face All of the above come from the heart to show her the love that must never part. By
Keith Low for his mum. Spring 2004 A Thought from Mother Teresa Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it. Life is bliss, taste it. Life is a dream, realise it. Life is a challenge, meet it. Life is a duty, complete it. Life is a game, play it. Life is a promise, fulfil it. Life is a sorrow, overcome it. Life is a song, sing it. Life is a struggle, accept it. Life is a tragedy, confront it. Life is an adventure, dare it. Life is luck, make it. Life is too precious, do not destroy it. Life is life, fight for it Time is Short
(This poem first appeared in the Autumn 2003 Messenger) Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night? You better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last. Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask, "How are you?", do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
With the next hundred chores running through your head? You better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last. Ever told your child "we'll do it tomorrow?"
And in your haste, not seen his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die?
Cause you never had time to call and say "hi!" You better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last. When you run so fast to get somewhere,
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift - thrown away! To Dust or Not to Dust !!
(This poem also appeared in the Autumn 2003 Messenger) Dust if you must but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture or write a letter?
Bake a cake or plant a seed
Ponder the difference between want and need.
Dust if you must but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.
Dust if you must but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain
This day will not come around again.
Dust if you must but bear in mind
Old age will come and it's not kind
And when you go and go you must,
you, yourself, will make more dust.
REMEMBER, A HOUSE BECOMES A HOME WHEN YOU CAN WRITE, "I LOVE YOU" ON THE FURNITURE |
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