Bill Wright

The old man looked up, glasses on head
Sitting in his own chair, by the fireplace.
Aye, I know what you want to do, he said
As he went to the table, and cleared a space.
...

While I was on my walk today,
As far as the eye could see,
The sky above and the sea below,
Were fifty shades of gray.
...

Walking along the prom today,
The sea was calm and still,
There wasn't even a sound to be heard,
Apart from the odd noisy gull.
...

I was raised in a wee tin prefab,
In Paisley's Gallowhill,
I've not lived there for many a year,
But the memories linger still.
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You always see them, on a windy day
Hardy kite surfers out in force
With their multi-coloured sails
Soaring like angry birds in the sky
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The Twelve Apostles is what they are called
At least that's how they started,
Huge limestone stacks in an angry sea
Now four of them departed.
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The air is hot, stuffy, humid
I stand outside and watch,
The throbbing street below
Full of tuc tucs galore.
...

Bar Harbour is a lovely place
A National Park in Maine
Where tourists flock to see the sights
Returning again and again
...

Way back in the old days
When I was still quite young
Noisy boots and shoes
Were a very common thing.
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Wednesday afternoon, time to write a poem,
Let's get things ready.
Folder out, cup of tea made,
Safely sitting in a tray on the floor.
...

In this cold room, racking my brain
Outside it's pouring down with rain
I sit forlorn, and try again
Inspiration will not come.
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It was an image which shocked the world,
Face down upon the shore,
That desperate, drowned Syrian boy,
No more than three or four.
...

This is the story of Ada and the Doc,
A tale of love and passion,
Of a treacherous and murderous deed,
And a trial that enthralled the nation.
...

I

The children were happy at school that day,
Eager for the Half Term holiday,
...

Amazed, the young fan looks
Upon the waving sea of banners
Fluttering in the wind
Stands still in wonder
...

'Is there nobody living here now? ', we said,
Slowly walking along the path,
Gannets and fulmars screeching overhead,
Above the pristine, windswept grass.
...

'Don't you worry', the weatherman said,
'There is no hurricane coming tonight'
The dreadful sounds would awake the dead,
Poor old Michael, you didn't get that right
...

(With apologies to Billy Joel's 'We didn't start the fire')

Hot day, seaside town, party ‘til the sun goes down,
Rollercoaster, Ghost Train, Punch and Judy's on again,
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The pipes sound, wailing and skirling,
Heather clad glens come into view,
Snowy peaks dot the horizon.
...

What will become of Scotland
What if Alex gets his way
Will independence be the answer
Or will Scotsmen rue the day
...