Sep 062013

By Bob Smith.

We hid a wee bit dander
T’wis jist the ither day
Gied in by Castle Fraser
The sun wis oot tae play
Doon past the adventure playgrun
Wi its tepee an ither things
Intae the bonnie wa’d gairden
Tae see fit naitur brings
Big daisies an ither flooers
Brocht colour there’s nae doot
An we myn’t tae close the gates
Tae keep the rubbities oot
A fylie sin a’ve seen sae muckle
Bees an butterflees in ae sector
Flittin aroon fae flooer tae flooer
An githerin up aa the nectar
Syne throwe the widdlan waak
Tree taps sweyin in the breeze
We cam upon the bonnie pond
Hame tae dyeuks an dragonflees
A gweed fyle there we sat
Surroondit bi naitur’s glory
The reeds an bonnie grasses
War pairt o oor day’s story
We climm’t up the windin path
An cam upon some coos
Faa lookit ower the fencie
Did they wint tae hae a newse?
The magic o iss bonnie waak
Wi a beauty hard tae beat
A sweir doon throwe the trees
A heard the patter o Hobbits’ feet

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

Feb 162012

By Belle Mont

Robbie, ma loon, jist turn aroon
Pit doon the daisy, boot up yer Mac
A twenty-first century parcel o rogues
Hell-bent on destroyin fit lies at your back.

Wallace, my friend, when it came to your end
You were tortured and flayed, stretched oot on the rack
But tak up yer shield to show we’ll nae yield
‘til the vandals and money-men are driven richt back.

Salvation, look doon o’er the apron afore ye
Verdant and colourful, unspiled and free
Replaced by a latter-day usurer’s temple?
Frown sternly upon those fa wish it to be.

Hey Byron min, look roon the corner
And wonder, ‘far’s next for concrete and tar?’
The Gairdens destroyed? The wreckers micht lobby
To fill in the corrie of dark Lochnagar

Granite-hewn monuments, proud parts of heritage
We call on your spirit, for now is the hour
And, toonsers a’wye – fae Bucksburn to Pointlaw
Save these great Gairdens. We have the power.

Belle Mont
February 2012

Nov 172011

By Bob Smith.

A meadow ower on Tullos Hill
Iss idea it is maist gran
A use faar mair diversified
Than jist trees upon the lan

A maun confess a love fer trees
Am a member o The Widdland Trust
Bit the growin o a hey meadow
Ower in Tullos iss is a must

Ye’ll hae wild flooers an ither plants
Buttercups, reid clover an daisies
Ti attract aa kins o beasties
Moths plus bees an butterflees

Doonamang aa the grasses
Frog hoppers wi yon cuckoo spit
Horny-gollachs an grasshoppers
An beetles faa feed on shit

Hay meadows are rich in earthwirms
Faa  dee gweed things ti the soil
Are fine grub fer birds an mowdiewarts
A feast they think richt royal

Noo meadows provide nesting grun
Fer the peesies an skylarks
Faa hiv a job ti survive
In intensive fairmed parks

It’s reckoned ae hail acre
Can support twa million spiders
An lots o ither  insects
Faa in win are expert gliders

Anither species faa wull benefit
Fae iss idea fit’s maist gifted
Is aa us tired oot humans
Faas spirits wull be uplifted

Jist ti waak throwe a meadow
Wi its flooers an bummin foggies
A pleasure e’en on a frosty morn
Myn an weer yer hummel doddies

So awa wi yon feel ideas
Ti sheet the puir bliddy deer
Leave them ti graze a meadow
An live a life withoot ony fear

©Bob Smith”The Poetry Mannie” 2011
Image credit: Suzanne Kelly.