Name change

After searching for the original title "Poetry from a small Island" it would apear there are lots of sites with that name. So i've changed it. I've also added a comment bar at the bottom of each post.

Tuesday, 31 January 2017


Speak to me of the sea
Of oceans and some distant shore
Of storm ravaged mains
And where the maelstroms roar
Tell to me of the tall ship
And stars you steered her by
And the sound of breakers
Where ghosts of sailors cry
Speak to me of golden sands
Of exotic lands afar
Of people dressed in silk
What is south of Zanzibar?
Tell me of those mountains high
And deserts where Nomads roam
And where are those palaces
That a prince would call his home
Speak to me of mysteries
Of wonders to behold
Of kings and queens of foreign lands
And temples made of gold
Tell me I’m not dreaming
And what I see is true
And those pictures I see in your eyes
Hold visions of lands anew

I was inspired by a painting of 'The Boyhood of Raliegh' by John Everett Millais1829- 1896

Wednesday, 25 January 2012


With the onset of age and the onset of winter, the body takes on a yearning for  warmer climes away from the cold damp bone chilling climate of Britain. 

These old bones feel the cold
These old bones are getting old
These old bones wont last much longer
These old bones will not get stronger
These old bones

These old bones are getting weaker
These old bones the futures bleaker
These old bones can't stand the strain
These old bones and the winters rain
These old bones

These old bones need some mending
These old bones for a happy ending
These old bones need some sun
These old bones and the battles won
These old bones

These old bones and the days are longer
These old bones are getting stronger
These old bones are meant to be
These old bones and the vitamin D
These old bones

These old bones are feeling fine
These old bones and a glass of wine
These old bones were meant to be  
These old bones are part of me
These old bones

Thursday, 12 January 2012


I'm on the wagon
I'm feeling fine 
no more beer 
no more wine
no more morning after
no more listning to the laughter
of those who do not imbibe
but take pleasure in the jibe
their time will come as it must
my turn to laugh is, when the boot,
is on the other foot.

Sunday, 8 January 2012


Some poetry is rather obscure in its message, which leads
 readers to procrastinate on the intention
of the author.  Have a think about this
 and tell me what I already know.
the answer is in the last word.

Read this and despair
no rhyme no reason
of what, why and where
words placed by a lunatic
to give an insight, what makes him tick?​​
on separate lines it looks so neat
bow down and kiss my feet
or hang down your head
and proclaim what sorrow
what will emerge in the morow
more of what came the yester
is this a fool or just a jester
you can write about a rainbow
or the sun in the sky
or a babbling brook
and fishes swimming by
you can write of little children
and fishes in a stream
rainbows on a sunny day
it makes you want to scream.
god give me the strength
to put pen to ink
let me write what people think
although these lines are so immense
they really are just!

Wednesday, 28 September 2011


A diversion from the usual work, but sometimes you just have to say it.
Egotism is the anisthetic that dulls the pain of stupidity.

No one loves an egotist
His world is self contented
 no one ever gets so close
His love is self directed
And if he ever tells you
Your wonderful to know
And how lucky you are
to be with him
Its time for you to go

How important  is he
I just forgot to ask
I suppose I didn’t notice
His head was up his ass
I do remember thinking
I Just forgot to tell
He said it was just wonderful
And what  a lovely smell

I love me ever so much
I could cover me with kisses
I think I would get married
 if I could be, my own Mrs.
 never miss  an opportunity
To tell the world you know
Just how important I've become
And I put on quite a show

If you want an Opinion
He’s got them made to measure
Nothing would delight him more
And give him so much pleasure
To have you think that your the one
That was doing all the thinking
And when its time to count the sheep
He’ll be  doing the bleating

As a frontline troop, he makes a stand
 the guns are loaded
Pen in hand
But when the  bullets start to fly
and his world is full of flack
One thing you can be sure
He will be standing at the back

Friday, 10 June 2011


Image result for cut price booze

Cut price booze and cardboard bed
Concrete slab for my head
Old worn out coat and shoes
All the badges of cut price booze
Now I lay me down to sleep
Counting demons instead of sheep
Oh Jesus if you are mine
Turn the water into wine
My god is here within this tin
Its a battle I can not win
I need a drink, I need it now
To pacify my fevered brow
Pray for me in my sorrow
Or spare a pound for tomorrow
This shop doorway is my roof
My bible says 40 proof.

Just trying to see from another perspective, through the eyes of a desperate soul.

Monday, 18 April 2011


The ups and downs of young love.
someone breaks your heart,
then someone comes along and mends it again.  

When a young heart breaks
when a dream comes to an end
you feel the world has ended too
into despair your spirits sink
all is lost you really think
then you turn the corner
and she was there
that old sweet music in the air
the final swan song had been sung
but strange things happen
when your young

Thursday, 7 April 2011


I was  told a story of how some well meaning council official some years ago had suggested that the whole population of Luing could be housed in  high rise flats, it would be more economical.
They’re shutting us down
It will be better
Argyll and Bute sent us a letter
You’ll be better of in high rise flats
They did declare
Where we build them we do not care
Your too much trouble to us all
So pack your bags and cancel the coal
Leave the Island as quick as you can
Shove your belongings in a removal van
We’re scrapping the ferry,
So you’ve been told
Our council budget has been put on hold
We don’t care if it rains or freezes
We do what we want
And we do what we pleases
You voted us in now we want you out
Give us a bridge, did I hear you shout
Believe you me, you will feel better
Aren't you glad you got this letter
Ten storey up in the sky
I bet your still wondering why
don't ask questions or raise a fuss
Instead of a ferry you will catch a bus
Don't you worry about tomorrow
Get today over
There's been enough sorrow
Its no use crying
We've made up our minds
Were just doing this to be unkind
Put on your hat and close the door
You wont be back here anymore.


The Luing bridge, To be or not to be, that is the question

Giz a bridge is what they say
Keep it open night and day
Build it high from rock to rock
Don't shut it down at six o-clock

Keep it high up in the sky
So the yachtie's can still go by
Built of steel to stand the weather
It could go on for ever and ever

No more rushing down the road
To catch a ferry and its last load
The ferry cant last much longer
It needs replacing with something stronger

Give Luing a future don't stagnate
Just open up that iron gate
To come and go as we please
Drive down Seil with perfect ease

don't think about yourself today
Think of others along the way
You wont last forever
The future lies in your endeavor

Learn today what you need tomorrow
Look ahead, don't look back in horror
Your day will come and you'll make amends
When that day comes the rushing ends.


An observation of a poor henpecked neighbor

I’m damned if I do
I’m damned if don’t
She says I will
I say I wont
Give the strength, to obey
Or she’ll make it hell
For the rest of the day
Don’t take it all lying down
Be a man and stand your ground
You wear the trousers
Or so you say
She says which ones you'll wear today
Give me the strength
And patience too
Or tomorrow you bugger you’ll stew
This is not my story
I was told what to say
Don’t let the truth get in the way
Tell it the way that it should be
Or you may find tomorrow
You'll be worse off than me


In the days of the world gold rushes a forty-niner refers to miners of the great 1849 Californian gold rush.
Iron pyrites became known as fools gold. Pyrites is found on the Isle of Luing slate

 Luing has bling
If you look at the slate
Shining in a natural state
Cubists take note
It’s not to be
This is not gold
Its pyrites you see

                  You may look a fool                      
If you believe its gold
No use prospecting
As of days of old
Don’t quit a job
To become a miner
Take a tip from an old forty-niner

  If you have a daughter
Don’t call her Clementine
Don’t come to Luing
To work in the mine
But if you seek riches
As miners of old
All we have here
IS fools gold

Wednesday, 6 April 2011


All men are cre(m)ated equal
With one burning desire
To live a life
Close to hell fire

The devil will play
With their emotions
But disregard others
With equal devotions

Their fingers get burnt
On a regular basis
And they will always be wearing
One of two faces

Not to be trusted
Is the tag or the label
That some will wear proudly
If they are able

Give them an inch
And they take a mile
Don’t be fooled
It’s an ambiguous smile


Such a romantic idea how can it fail, but it does for so many.

Let’s escape to the country
away from it all
let’s have a house
with real garden wall

We’ll buy a cottage
with a front and back door
It’ll save all the lifting
up to the third floor

We can buy some green wellie’s
and look at the view
and live off the land
like country folk do

It’s the good life we want
It’s what we desire
no central heating
Just a big open fire

When we get our cosy nook
with the big open fire
the pubs down the road
just beyond the church spire

There’s an old English pub
with a Bistro next door
real plastic beams
and a Spanish tile floor

At the weekend it's busy
but it is quite a pity
it's full of the people
 that we left in the city

When winter came
we were frozen to the core
living in the country
is becoming a bore

There are no pavements
there's mud and there's mire
and we've run out of wood
for the big open fire

The electrics gone off
the phones out of order
and doesn't manure
have a bad odour
Lets escape to the city

Friday, 18 March 2011


Me owd dusty shed
A shrine to cobwebs
Clutter everywhere
Sawdust floating everywhere

Oh I love me owd dusty shed
Me missus says I should make a bed
My second home
Is me owd dusty shed

Well one day
When I'm owd an grey
I’ll set too an have a dust
If I can just break through that crust

Well that day came
But its still the same
Try as I must
I just couldn't part with all that dust


There's not much hope for you me lad
Your writings poor an your spellings bad
We’ll keep you in after school
For acting like a bloody fool

Your sums are better, but your spelling worse
I really don't like it when you curse
A thousand lines will make you better
Its time your parents got a letter

When schools is over I head for the hills
And throw away all my ills
School is not for me you see
I already know my ABC

All your lessons are a pest
They don't tell me where the Ravens nest
Or tell me where the wild rose grows
Or show me a lark rise above the meadow

Teach to me of the changing seasons
Teach to me of the reasons
Teach to me of Hares and Rabbits
Teach to me of seasons habits

Then I will go to school
And I’ll learn the golden rule
The three s for me you see
Are the Rook, Raven and the Rowan tree


They tramp the boards
 In pursuit of fame
The footlight troopers
The tramps, the dames
The good, the bad
And the ugly too
Sleepy, dopey
and the Cullipool crew 
Stage door Johnny
The backstage staff
The lighting man
The crowd that laugh
All are here just for joy
Snow white
and the principle boy
They tramp the boards
As in days of yore
The fishers of laughs
The experts of score
Politically correct
Lets get it  right
Making perfect
For the opening night
The roar, of the crowd
The Rapturous applause
The jeers, cheers and the hurrahs
All are welcome come what may
Don't ‘Break a leg’, on the opening day

This was the second Panto performed by Many thanks to all

Sunday, 6 March 2011


Yes they do get it wrong and argue about which Island they are actually on.

I stepped off the ferry
Are we there already
So two steps forward
And one step back
Gale force winds
Wont hold me back
How far to Cullipool
I called out
With the noise of the wind
I had to shout
Just two days more
I heard in the lull
You’ve got the wrong island
This is Mull


Th'owd bow back,
Ligging in’t corner ut room
In’thundred yers
Its sen so many bums
Arms are naer on worn owt
Its shins av bin kicked abowt
A bit a elbo grees
An a spit an polish
It’ll lookas gud as nuw

Well its bin rubbed down
An ad a lik
O’ that nuw vanish stuff
Wot yer can get
I’t’ll sev on yon polish
It luks reet gud
Standin in yon conservatwaa
Lukin spankin nuw

Wen we get people cumin’ in
Sum wanna sit on er
But lukin ut bums is ower
Fer this owd chare
Yons worth a bit o brass
Is yon chare
Wen we get ower a undred
We don't wan’tr luk at bums
Well chare’s ar’t same

A little tale of the chair..I bought this chair more than 30 years ago along with an oak corner cupboard for the princely sum of five pounds, on removing the seat pad I found it was stuffed with two extremely large pinafores and half a pair of extremely large pink bloomers.

Friday, 4 March 2011


               A long abandoned fishing boat on a secluded Isle of Luing shore

The Golden Chance
Looking forlorn and gray
Abandoned forever within the bay
No more will she sail the Sound
In a sheltered cove she is bound

Her boards are loose
And her decking gone
Her captain has long since gone home
She rests in peace for evermore
On a secluded Isle of Luing shore

Long forgotten
Cast aside
To end her days bereft of pride
Oh how I wish I could be
Once again on that rolling sea


Thousands of toads are killed on Luing roads every year, they are difficult to avoid whether on foot or in a car.

As I was walking down the road
I came upon a playful toad
I asked what did he see
These few words he told to me

Be wise my friend
But lets not pretend
I am not just any toad
      That you met upon this country road

Not wishing to be rude
And least of all considered a prude
I settled down to hear him speak
I was all ears, – for his mystique

But what he said I can’t reveal
As I was squashed by a big car wheel
A sorry tale that left me flat
An image altering squidgy type of format

Now you see said the toad
Just be careful on the road
Help to keep our pathway clear
Just slow down and change a gear

Remember page five of the highway code
It says you must not kill a toad
It doesn't really
(I just made that up)