Bob House

Bob House Poems

Wi hunger pangs I pushed the door
An’ entered in ma local store
Rushin’ roon in search o’ scran
I didnae want tae use a pan

A farmer of feelings
Tending the fields of untold dreams
Harvesting emotions
And bottling silent screams

Self –important egocentricity
Self-righteously centred on
Self-fulfilling prophecies
Self-selected from

Our lives put on trial by TV
And sentenced by magazines
Berated by idealised icons
Brainwashed in our teens

When I’m lost and lonely
When I feel I’ve lost the way
When darkness casts its cloak around me
Something comes to save the day

This poem is inspired by my teenage daughter's current attitudes to her studying. Parents, you've heard it all before!

Don’t want to stand out and look absurd
That’s only for a geek or a nerd

Merci ma petite étoile
Merci d’être toi
Tu brilles dans mon ciel
Tu illumines ma voie


Dis-moi mon petit ange Heidi
Pourquoi tu ne te trouve pas belle
Tu n’as pas confiance en toi
Disant que t’es pas top modèle

Written winter 2007 and the writer's first venture at writing in his adopted home country's language. Given that the Scots celebrate Burn's night with a poem about a certain foodstuff he wanted to do something similar that could be celebrated in the area in which he now lives, so here it is! !

Autour des montagnes des deux Savoies

Dame de contraires
Tu te caches bien
Tu me raconte beaucoup
Mais tu me dis rien

Il était une fois
Et le temps est surement passé
J’ai de la chance à trouver
Un ange qui était cassé

A heart is a place to guard all that is precious to you
A place to hide the things you hold most dear
May this heart hold some special moments
Treasured from life from year on year

Ten years in France, I really should
Appreciate this type of food.
I started young, weaned on baguette
Not ready then for Andouillette.

Petit ruisseau tu me fais heureux
Je te regarde, t’es plein de beauté
Tes cascades tourbillonnées
Tes mares bien tranquilles

Take a look at me
And tell me what you see
Someone underweight
In pathetic puny state


Douce Nadine es- tu réelle?
Ou seulement personne virtuelle
Une image sur mon écran
Ou non

Sous la pluie
Sous estimé
Sourire jamais
Etre déprimé

Heartbreak is the sound of summer’s cotton clouds
Torn apart by altitude’s imperceptible winds
Their wispy fingers desperately grasping at each other
Before being rend apart forever

The Vegetarian Haggis was written in January 2007 while the poet was working in a ski hire shop in Les Gets in the French Alps. He was about to recite Burns' famous 'Address to the Haggis' at the Bar Bush in Les Gets which was an annual event. Knowing that there was also to be a vegetarian option to the traditional Burns' Night Haggis neeps and tatties he decided that it would be fitting to provide a contemporary version which would follow Burns' aptittude for social comment. The poem therefore addresses this vegetarian option and comments somewhat irreverently on the food and diet ideas of the time.

Whit’s this you’ve put upon ma plate?

The Andouillette of Lyon was written in January 2007 and is based on an experience often recounted by the poet's father-in-law, Hector Davidson who while holidaying in Lyon in France decided to try the local dish and although being a chef himself and willing to try anything found this delicacy just a step too far. The Andouillette is a sausage containing a large quantity of intestines with a rather unique texture. The poem describes how the poet envisaged the encounter.

I took a trip to Lyon
It’s a trip I won’t forget

The Best Poem Of Bob House

The Scotch Pie

Wi hunger pangs I pushed the door
An’ entered in ma local store
Rushin’ roon in search o’ scran
I didnae want tae use a pan
Cause for that ah’d hae tae wait
Ma stomach wis in no fit state
I needed somethin’ fast and glorious
No time consuming and laborious

Skytin’ roon the veggie aisle
I couldnae help but raise a smile
Five fruit and veg eh? Man yer jokin’
Sic things wid hae us pair scots boakin’
Then as if by things divine
I happened on that fateful sign

Above the counter in the air
The words that made me stop and stare
Printed bold as bold can be
The words were callin’ jist tae me
I read whilst droolin’ it did say
“Hot Scotch Pies tae take away”

So I ordered wan, it wis delivered
I peeked inside the poke and shivered
Thus wafted oot it’s sweet aroma
Enough tae wake ye from a coma
I slipped ma haun inside tae grab it
Just like a fox wid chase a rabbit

I stared at it, it seemed an ‘oor
Its little flattened pastry toor
I watched the hole in its rounded cap
Fill wi grease that hid come tae the tap
Noo the heat to my hand from this pastry ring
Made it sensual like some livin’ thing

Not wanting to let this ardour cool
And conscious that I looked a fool
I raised the pie and took a bite
And god I must have looked a sight
For no sooner than the pie was in
The grease was tricklin’ doon ma chin

The pie’s lifeblood wis leakin fast
Ma friend stood there wi face aghast
This product o oor local fairm
Wis slowly runnin doon ma airm
I rammed what was left in my mouth in a hurry
I wished tae god I’d got a curry

But hauf had now fallen on the flair
And the grease wis spreadin everywhere
The shopkeeper opened the door with distaste
And bid us leave with undue haste
So noo I ken whit wise men ken
And I’ll never touch scotch pies again

So when pangs o hunger come
Think o me and whit I’ve done
Get yersel a balanced meal
And no a fast and ready deal
When fatty foods ye want tae try
Be minded o the guid scotch pie

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