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New Zealand Tour Haiku #2

Posted: 2 July 2013

Singer with guitar
Prepares to leave Scottish shores
For New Zealand tour.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day

Posted: 1 July 2013

Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars, the taxis and the lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

Bloody Men
Wendy Cope 1945 -

New Zealand Haiku # 1

Posted: 1 July 2013

I mentioned some time ago my interest in the Japanese poetry form, haiku, a three line poem of seventeen syllables in lines of 5/7/5, and that I planned to write and post one daily about my forthcoming tour so, here is the first: a haiku about haiku.

Seventeen sisters
Soundlessly symmetrical.
Stark, steadfast stanza.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day

Posted: 30 June 2013

Some weeks ago I posted favourite poem of my grandmother's. Here is another I remember this beautiful, gracious lady reciting.

I aye mind o' that wee hoose that stood on the brae,
Its lum was aye reekin', its roof made o' stray.
The ootside was bonny, the inside was snug,
But whit I mind best of a' was the wee wally dug.

It stood in a corner, high up on the shelf,
And keepit an ee on the best o' the delf.
It was washed twice a year, frae its tail tae its lug,
And pit back on the shelf, was the wee wally dug.

When oor John got mairrit tae sweet Jeannie Blue,
The auld folks they gied him a horse an' a coo,
But when I left the hoose, ma hert gied a tug,
For a' mither gied me was the wee wally dug.

There's a saying, 'Ne'er look a gift horse in the moo',
But I looked that wee dug frae its tail tae its broo'
An' I fun' a wee slit at the back o' its lug,
It was stuffed fu' o' notes, was the wee wally dug.

I tain it hame tae oor Lizzle tae pit on a shelf,
An' I telt her the worth o' that wee bit o' delf.
An' we aye feed it yet through that hole in its lug,
It's a guid bit o' stuff, is the wee wally dug.

The Wee Wally Dug
Anonymous

Poem for the Day

Posted: 29 June 2013

I hold dead friends like jewels in my hand
Watching their brilliance gleam against my palm
Turquoise and emerald, jade, a golden band.

All ravages of time they can withstand
Like talismans their grace keep me from harm
I hold dead friends like jewels in my hand

I see them standing in some borderland
Their heads half-turned waiting for my arm
Turquoise and emerald, jade, a golden band

I'm not afraid they will misunderstand
My turning to them like a magic charm
I hold dead friends like jewels in my hand
Turquoise and emerald, jade, a golden band.

Jewels In My Hand
Sasha Moorsom 1931-1993

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