Peter Strugnell

Peter Strugnell Poems

Oh the cold air of the Kishorn burial ground,
and the ghost's there everywhere you turn,
the cold and the damp seems to follow you down,
to the brackish waters of the Russell Burn.

It feels so right, I can't believe my luck,
I go carefully, with a full cup,
you're my heroine, you make me stronger,
just when I feel, I can't go on any longer,

I'm not saying that it's easy for you,
I know you've been let down before,
you aren't sure you wanna start something new,
you're tired and don't wanna hurt anymore.

Today I have some difficulties, some scars still remain,
full of self doubt, through injury to the brain,
a brush with mortality, it's got to change a person,
it changes your view, and previous assertions,

The media bombards, the shelter of our homes,
the crisis deepens, the worst we've ever known,
the bankers screw us over, they really have no shame,
they've done it once, now they're doing it again.

If liberty means anything at all,
When we're all lined up against the wall,
I'd rather die standing than on my knees,
I tweak the nose of your bigotries,

Come on let's get away down to the sea,
take in the sea air take in it's liberty,
and the wet sands shimmering in the light,
the moon the stars shining through the night,

the love I invested I never got back
and where does that leave me further down the track
you've got to be lied to to know the value of truth
I have some regrets, I've wasted my youth

The silent majority, are finding their voice
revolution was coming, people had little choice
the nation weeps, and Alexandria bleeds
after all, ' we are all Khaled Saïd'

Well all I wanna do is spit and lay some tracks,
just looking for a good time, just looking for the craic*
but now with all this shit going down in politics,
and the world being ruled by a bunch of lunatics,

I wish that you could ask me, about my day,
I would say the words, that I never got to say,
our time together was way too short,
and It's a hard lesson that, that I've been taught.

I'd never be unkind, you know that it's true,
and i'll do my best, to never make you blue,
what little i have, i'd give it all to you,
you should never doubt my love.

He'll take the long way home tonight,
as he's late then there's less time to fight,
he'll have a drink to dull the senses,
he'll build no bridges but maybe a few fences!

And they say that nostalgia, is a seductive liar,
and then again, there is no smoke without fire,
I know that we should, never look to the past,
because nothing lasts forever, nothing ever lasts.

traduction français (merci à fanny)

Aujourd'hui j'ai quelques difficultés, quelques cicatrices reste toujours,
en plein manque de confiance en soi, par des blessures au cerveau,

It's four in the morning, and the air is still,
deep in my chest, there's an empty space to fill,
I stare at the bulb, in my vacant room,
I hoping that you'll, arrive very, very soon.

No place to run, no place to hide,
Oh how the bright lights shine,
all the bad news, I let it slide,
don't wanna be old before my time.

Tell me this, do you think, that life has passed you by,
I always search, when I look, deep in your eyes,
it's hard you know, to love someone, completely you'll find
with mystic countries, and distant sunsets, always on your mind,

never tell a woman you'll always gonna stay
that you'll stand by her come what may
or that you'll love her t'ill your dying day
don't declare your love today

I have seen,
the fading light,
the dimming day,
the in-between.

Peter Strugnell Biography

Peter child of the 60's. Son of a mariner, boarding school pupil, bank clerk, matelot, carpenter, dingy sailor, surfer and musician.)

The Best Poem Of Peter Strugnell

The Russell Burn

Oh the cold air of the Kishorn burial ground,
and the ghost's there everywhere you turn,
the cold and the damp seems to follow you down,
to the brackish waters of the Russell Burn.

The Burn, the blood, and the porcelain shard,
an aching mitt and another lesson to learn,
I numb the hand and the ghost of the churchyard,
in the brackish waters of the Russell Burn.

There's a heart as cold as the Wester Ross,
there are ties that bind like a highland fern,
there's a sullied figurine nailed to a cross,
and the brackish waters of the Russell Burn.

The ghosts leave traces of residual pain,
as the ashes scatter from a broken urn,
tainted and tarnished and never the same,
oh the brackish waters of the Russell Burn.

Peter Strugnell Comments

Peter Strugnell Quotes

'In order to get good at something, you've got to start by being bad at it'!

Peter Strugnell Popularity

Peter Strugnell Popularity

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