You are yourself not someone else
Do not decry, dare not deny
When asked or told you’re something less
Stand proud and say, I’m me.

For love was a wonderful sight
And love was the hour of darkness
That came along in morning’s depths
And shared some spurious thoughts.

The fresh cut grass, that summer scent
That smell of summer, Heaven sent
I used to squeeze it in my fingers
Shreds of green, its smell still lingers.

The rooftops of Italia’s Alps stand neatly in a row
And down below a river flows by a road that no-one knows,
Puffs of cloud look just like smoke as though the sky’s on fire,
They nestle upon these alpine peaks, growing ever higher.

We see this coarse or vile and give it other names
But when it gets right down to it, it’s all the bloody same
Did you blow off, or trump, the smell will let you know
Did you let one off or let one rip or did you let one go

(For Carmela) .

Every time I hit the town
A dozen faces turn around
Tonight we’ll dance then sleep ‘til dawn
Says the angel with the black dress on.

(Written on the bus going home from work after a very brief
meeting with an elderly patient in Charing Cross Hospital) .

Confused and dazed he walks the ward, day and night,

Life is short and may be sweet
It could be long and sad
Life’s based on those you meet and greet
Who make your heart feel glad.

Have you ever walked along the street, on your way to work
And took a look down at your feet and felt a proper burk?

A poet is like the artist
With a blank canvas
He or she can be anyone
Or anything.

By banks we roam, ‘cross burns we leap
When hearts were young and thrills were cheap
By lonely stream, canal or brook
We'd cast a line with baited hook.

All I do is tell the truth and pay the ladies heed
A lift is what most women want when they’re in time of need.
Time and need it has no place, for ladies, I have found
Anytime of day will do, for praise, now that’s profound.

One night as she lay sleeping, I whispered in her ear
Hush! My little angel, you’re safe now, I am here
I promise to watch over you and keep you free from danger
So save your love and dreams for me, don’t give them to a stranger.

A neon sign lights up their life as the night train trundles past
But in this world they live in, this sleep could be their last.
We put them down so willingly, never knowing why
To us their lives are worthless, who cares if they die?

I’ve never heard a woman cry
Then saw the tears roll from her eyes
I watched her shaking, no control,
My body stops, I feel so cold.

Sleepy head, sleepy head, go to bed
Lie down, lie down, and rest your head
And when you give the biggest sigh,
I’ll sing to you a lullaby.

A thousand things we all can be
And most before it's time for tea
A million games go through our mind
Deeds and thoughts of every kind.

His eyes. What does he see?
His mind. Where is it now?
Those thoughts, that look,
I wish I knew.

She came out of the darkness
And crept through the night
Wandering by graves
In her dress virgin white


I was born in sunny Glasgow but left in 1980 to work in London and still here. My poems are very varied, from love to childhood reminisces to football to sorrow, illness and death with some children's poems thrown in. And a few Glasgow/Scottish themes as well. I would like to suggest a few poems: A Soldier's Last Thoughts - About death in war. Dignity and Pride - About dementia. Flower of My Fathers - Scotland's national emblem. Lilac Time - For the ladies. My ladybird - A warming rhyme. One Night As She Lay Sleeping. A sad love poem Wildness - A poem about the Cairngorms with a twist. Henrik Larsson - Football Legend. I hope you enjoy them. I try to answer all questions and thank you to those who have posted comments. Paul.)

The Best Poem Of PAUL COLVIN

Self Pride

You are yourself not someone else
Do not decry, dare not deny
When asked or told you’re something less
Stand proud and say, I’m me.
You cannot be what you’re not,
No matter what your background
Don’t be afraid of truths
Do not give way to higher claims
Stand tall and look them in the eye
Do not cringe at parents’ flaws
But respect the lot you have
Thank them for the gift of life
And pity those who put you down.


Paul Colvin 20 August 2019

Hi Michael, I never could get used to calling you Sherry. I hope you're well and it was brilliant to meet Felix in Partick with Mary that day. Totally out of the blue. All the poems on here are old ones and mainly when I just started writing. All my poems are on Facebook under my own name. All the best and it would be great to catch up with everyone soon. Paul.

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Michael sheridan 18 August 2019

Met Fellix yesterday. Will read your words soon. The class of 71/72. Glad your there. Sherry

2 0 Reply
Stefanie Fontker 10 October 2011

Ha! I'm the first one to comment, that isn't on Facebook. Paul is a poet of many, and few words. He can write the most beautiful poems, and come up with such philosophical metaphors, in as many words as he sees fit. He burns a million emotions into his readers' hearts, and can inspire a person who has no love for poetry, to give it a try. A true gentleman, and a great friend.

7 0 Reply

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