25 June 2022
  • 25 June 2022

Passionate Paisley a poem by Elizabeth Van Dyke

on 27 March 2022 0

Passionate Paisley by Elizabeth Van Dyke There’s a place far away I hope to get there one day Where the streets glisten in the pouring rain From the Lowlands to the Gleniffer Braes The River Cart in all her glory Ancient castles rewind their stories The Buskers, Arts and Town Centre Piazza, pubs, bistros, the...

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Delicatessen: a poem by Jacqueline Jay Wilde

on 9 January 2022 0

Delicatessen by Jacqueline Jay Wilde Because you were smoking We stopped at the door And peered into a cavern Clustered with salami stalactites. The curve of the glass counter Gleamed in the half light, Mirrored shelves and shelves Of Italianate tins and jars And bottles and boxes Stuffed with exotic morsels. The scent of...

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Through a Child’s Eyes

on 12 May 2021 0

By Karen Porter Wild winds of wonder crashing sounds of thunder leaves falling from trees the buzzing sounds of bees Picking flowers in the garden watching water freeze and harden raindrops and snow flakes all the sounds animals make Funny faces and silly sounds that’s where laughter is found dark and shadows are intimidating...

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Background Paper 3 (Proposed Housing Developments, Dykebar)

on 12 May 2021 0

By Morag Smith An indicative masterplan has been prepared for this teenage Devil’s Playground where gargoyles smile from burrs on trees and lockdown lovers kiss in the patients’ garden, slow-grown, gone in a blink Garlic. Daisy. Hawksbeard. Bluebell. Owners confirm the overgrown buildings are surplus to current operational needs Life overwinters in rubble, dead...

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February…

on 12 May 2021 0

By Roddy Scott She rose up and bit us hard, after Winter’s ices, cracked and bitter shards had closed up pools and puddles over sodden rain-drunk ground, our reflections lost, ‘til melting sun reveals a lonely face in so many collections of a wet embrace. She washed heavy soaking rain straight to brolly-bobbing hands,...

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An Ode To Ferguslie

on 12 May 2021 0

The Ferguslie Tourist By Kevin Muirhead Am a Paisley boy born and bred, Tae a faimly of Fegs with the name Muirhead, They hailed fae a street called Logan Drive, Tae the outsider I suppose it was a bit ae a dive, But embedded within it was a deep burning pride, Filled with people...

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The Golden Fleece of Arran

on 12 May 2021 0

By Roddy Scott Aince lang ago, when jist a gleam in ma maw’s een, I was telt the tale o’ Jock the Shepherd an’ his Golden Fleece. In the autumn, he wuid drap a sheep’s fleece intae a burn- a certain burn- oan the Isle o’ Arran, knowing that when the spring cam an’...

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The Table Set & Letting Go

on 12 May 2021 0

By Basia Palka THE TABLE SET a cupful of love a plateful of emotions and a jugful of time from PAINTING WITH POETRY my prayer LETTING GO first anger, then a sort of sadness sets in followed by much weeping, when the eyes have dried out that it’s difficult to open or close eyelids...

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A Renfrewshire Ramble

on 12 May 2021 0

By Brian Whittingham Along the path beside the river Cart I saunter down 50 years of memory, you keeping me company. We pass the remains of Tam Mulgrew’s golf range the fairway overgrown with gnarled bushes, its meshed perimeter fence hanging like abandoned cobwebs. These days, I can’t hear, the ‘ting ting ting’ of approaching...

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