When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
when the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
when the funds are low and the debts are high,
and you want to smile but you have to sigh,
when care is pressing you down a bit - rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns.
As everyone of us sometimes learns.
And many a fellow turns about when he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow - you may succeed with another blow.
......
This poem was inspired by scots poems and is about inspiration that can be found in nature. I saw a visitor's book from Corrour Bothy from the 1930s which was the catalyst of inspiration for this poem.
Some translations for non-scots understanding readers:
Bothy - small remote shelter for hillwalkers
Braw - if something is braw it is good
Bonnie - pretty
Baltic - freezing
Dreich - dull
Drookit - drenches
Burn - small river
......
I stand back, and light the fuse,
hoping, to awake my muse.
She could be found anywhere,
yet, when I call her, she's not there.
In field of clover, with no pen,
my muse flies to me again.
When I'm busy, hard a work,
she teases me, what a jerk.
......
"HERE POPE FIRST SUNG!" O, hallow'd Tree !
Such is the boast thy bark displays;
Thy branches, like thy Patron's lays,
Shall ever, ever, sacred be;
Nor with'ring storm, nor woodman's stroke,
Shall harm the POET'S favourite Oak.
'Twas HERE, he woo'd his MUSE of fire,
While Inspiration's wond'rous art,
Sublimely stealing thro' his heart
......
What is it about you
That makes my stomach turn?
Causing my heart to beat fast
And my mouth to curl?
Is it your beautiful smile
Or maybe your cute lips?
Or maybe the sweetness of your voice
When you whisper to me through a kiss?
I gaze upon your purest soul
......
We are lost without a cause
Father
We had bought some lottery tickets
And we also won the lottery
We don't need all the money for
Our selves
We need to pay some bills
The rest of the money
We will give to a charity
So that they can use the money
......
This poem was inspired by scots poems and is about inspiration that can be found in nature. I saw a visitor's book from Corrour Bothy from the 1930s which was the catalyst of inspiration for this poem.
Some translations for non-scots understanding readers:
Bothy - small remote shelter for hillwalkers
Braw - if something is braw it is good
Bonnie - pretty
Baltic - freezing
Dreich - dull
Drookit - drenches
Burn - small river
......
I stand back, and light the fuse,
hoping, to awake my muse.
She could be found anywhere,
yet, when I call her, she's not there.
In field of clover, with no pen,
my muse flies to me again.
When I'm busy, hard a work,
she teases me, what a jerk.
......
In the quiet of the night,
We find a truth profound: there are no borders in our souls.
No lines to mark where you end and where I begin,
In the vast expanse within, we are kin.
Our hearts beat in unison, a universal song,
In the dance of life, we all belong.
No walls can hold the spirit, no chains can bind the heart,
In the realm of the soul, we are never apart.
......
I have the urge to create something beautiful,
but these walls do not inspire me at all.
I have spent years studying the grain of their wood,
the brush strokes in their paint,
and the scuffs they have accumulated over the years.
They are the same as they were years ago,
and do not inspire me at all.
I can hear nature calling to me—
a whisper carried in the wind
......