Boaters and School Ties (Shadow of Marie Marshall)

I meet the youth of maiden ways
and weep an aging tear.
The city lights and rushing days
in white and amber gear,
The whitewash walls meet Itchen shore
as cargo waits its ship,
in dreams of teens for love and more
my journal's ink lets slip.

The time has gone to denim skies
to see a wizened crone
as docks, silenced in grief's demise
the planes above now drone.
Where is the boater dressed in blue
that trailed common ground?
I bid farewell to things I knew
No tears it’s time I’m found.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Original poem: I see my childish yesterdays

Quean of Poetry

If I take the craw road from here to Dundee
I will find the lassie my quean of poetry.
I read the wirds an aw that sing
As the pen haud in her hand ring

Sing to me again my quean of ink
I luve the lass that makes me think
I ken the wirds will make me cry
An aw that sing I'll smile an sigh.

So a wannabe poet put pen ta paper
An writ in mither tongue for caper
For the lassie that is aw that an more
I ken it will be a wee poetic bore.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Written using Scots dialect