Wind Cuffer

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Wind-Cuffer*

In the pause afore the gnarl and bite

Of a winter reluctant to feast upon us

The kestrel lands gossamer air light

Pensive between fence and morsel of wood.

 

Spitfire cousin of the buzzard

A filament of wing and feather

Braided into the undergrowth.

 

Any reward is unseen

Measured in slower time in larger beats.

*Kestrel

Seven

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(A quick game of football in Malawi-bare feet, sugar cane and big smiles: thanks ST :))

 

Calamity Springs From Carelessness’

 

Just as the slightest undulation

On rough ground destroys balance

So any slight give or fade can lose

Conflicts in or out your gi.

 

As seasons create growth

They hide that decay in tending actions

Weed out the poverty of thought or deed

Usher in like illuminati clear gaze

Both with een* shut and eyes open.

E and B

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(Herol Graham, champion boxer)

This from a joint reading with another writer, Ross Wilson. We tried to contrast the two martial arts of boxing and karate.

Equilibrium and Balance

Herol Graham, Sugar Ray had it

Balance and strike, retreat unbroken.

Dance to a rhythm until the final blow.

All Senseis, Masters us do fail

Beyond the ropes, the dojo are people

Lost loves, vices, enemies that make Yahara

A Foreman, A Hopkins, A Duran greet fer mercy.

All arts, would make us better, more complete

Match inner worth to an outer equilibrium..

Still keep that guard up, stance ready

Body and soul tempered.

 

‘Are You ready’..(ichi,ni,san…)

The Escape

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Values

The call for the police was frantic. Post-stroke and with diminished eye-sight our father had ‘disappeared’. It was s time amid the trauma of a bomb of hurt and a recovery when he could feel all at sea.

Haunts, friends and allies were phoned, asked and probed.

**

The first sight of him. He was in range of the safe haven of the sheltered housing. The claw came into view.

The three-pronged end of his walking stick. A thrawn beast, this walking stick with a queer end; to be put up with by someone who had been a Pipe Major on two continents.

Of course. A return. He had been calling in at the ‘YES’ shop on Kirkcaldy High Street.

This was them dropping him off. Home and safe.

**

Today I thought of that. I was still (somehow) shocked at a Sir, a Scottish Sir sell his soul: the suspension of two very senior MPs today from their parties.

A new system is built from the bottom up.

The Edinburgh Half Marathon from Hell (Rock On)

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looking back

Like dafties we paid siller for pain

Breaking joints and spine on Edinburgh’s outlying lungs

The Arctic blast in April filleted the SAS team out;

Never mind the bands playing to the blue skinned

Natives and guests from all parts.

 

Yet it is as nothing to what hunger does,

What hatred carves out in many a heart and place

When you have a finish that is there not hidden

There is not much to get over

Just some pure Scottish rain pelting Saint and Sinner alike.

 

Siller-silver

Having had a good response to a running piece-here’s one for all and KS-time for another?

Mostar Brig

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Nae a body in sicht

In this summer whaur even tyres melt

Gone from the burns an yird

Bairns blasted tae smithereens fae baith faiths

Equal magisteria doun in the glaur

Unsullied in saul an speerit lik yon skinklin stane.

Sodgers fer wronged Prophets naethin

But murderers fae heid tae toe

Savagery is aye mair aboot pain

Thair pain, thair feelings o sma beings lost

Kennin we are

Jist sea spray on a wee planet

Dinna mourn thair defeat

A lang or short demise.

*I visited the bridge a few years ago

Glossary

Nae-no, sicht-sight, whaur-where, yird-earth, bairns-children, baith-both, glaur-mud, saul-soul, sodgers-soldiers, kenning-knowing, dinna-don’t, their-their.

Lomond Hill Run

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It tested you that gut wrenching run

Up from the village keeping tight by the pine tree line

Burst a lung and cerebellum over rock, mound and mud

West Lomond’s skirts demanded blood, sweat, dying legs.

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Knee strip support and mair* rests than Rodin’s ‘The Thinker’

Means I can still make it-

See Perthshire and the guts of Scotland beyond

Savour that kestrel level view forever.

 

Mair-Scots for more.