The Kintyre Forum

The task at last night's writing class was to produce an acrostic of Campbeltown. The muse (it must have been McGonagall) suggested this:

Cantankerous old sandstone town
Accretion of cold and windy streets
Marinated in whisky kiln
Perpetrated on sea loch shore
Beneath the green of Kintyre's hills.
Expecting miracles and yet
Laying down hopes, making way for
Tesco's octopoidal outreach
Or Skykon's breath of better times
When ferries ran to other shores.
Northern Ireland, won't you save us?

I'll get my coat...

Cancer like religion, spreads,
A wedge between,
Marking the line,
People verse people,
Believers of this, and that,
Engulfed, lost in cloud cuckoo land,
Lord have mercy,
Together, we can overcome,
Our petty differences,
Wake up now,
Night far spent, and dead.

Great seething mass,
Last night's vomit,
Across the cracked pavement,
Sick of the sight,
Gangs, crack cocaine,
Oh, such sadness,
Widows weep, the tears seep.

Offshore, the storm gathers,
Batters the front,
Another winters day,
Nice an cozy.

Tread carefully,
Admit a degree of caution,
New boots on auld rock,
Glide, slither slide,
You, the coming tide.

People, and the peoples party,
Ordinary folk, both you and me,
Remembering the poor,
The hungry young beggar,
Good bad, and in between,
Last night I dreamed, tall ships,
Anchored rusty hull,
Sunk on the Clyde,
Gone the builders, the men of craft,
Open ground, a boil to burst,
Wounded by the nightmare, I stir restless, and fall back to sleep.

On a roll,
Back from that deep dark place,
Another day another dollar,
No undercover terrorists here.

People are the problem here. You and me
Expect too much, want to live forever
As the angels, righteous and free of guilt.
Can't accept that life's a work in progress,
Ending in a human imperfection.

Good stuff, ionnsaigh. Don't think I can keep up, but keep them coming.

Dried up now,
Unless by some miracle,
New thought is born,
Famished this brain,
Empty, ding ding,
Reason and rhyme,
Merge, as one,
A star from the East,
Lingers over the Tay,
In shadows silver,
Night stark and crisp,
Ending with those, first few rays.

riggbeck wrote:Good stuff, ionnsaigh. Don't think I can keep up, but keep them coming.

A spot in the middle,
Lost in barren desert,
Isolated with Kangaroo,
Centerpiece,
Endangered Aborigine,
Snakes Spider Koala Bear,
Prairie town,
Rocks bathed blue,
Indigenous species,
Naked Green lizards,
GI guys, and lassies too,
Sun drenched.

Bold facade and mighty gate,
Unseen frolics, the servants fate,
Captain Charles, and handy man,
Kiss and grope, chase the maid,
In the kitchen, on the floors,
Naughty Knights - anything goes,
Guards and Ladies, Bishops too,
Harry likes, not one but two,
Andrew favours bright young things,
Mam likes those Queens - on Queens.

Party people snorting coke,
Archbishop having a stroke,
Lesbians one two three.
Astride auld Edinburgh's Knee,
Court Official deals in drugs,
English rule at it's worst.

Sacred soil, and stormy shores,
Clad in rags, the story goes,
Old Men weep, an empty bowl,
Trapped beneath, a Celtic skin,
Land raped, a barren place,
Another barrel, another place,
No Man's land to toil an till,
Deep the pain, Scotland's ill.

Christmas goodwill sparkle gift,
Hidden beneath green tree,
Idle the Santa, in poor hoose,
Little in the way of cheer,
Drunken Mum and drunken Dad,
Riddled with shame and guilt,
Empty plates and empty socks,
Next to the babies bed.

In sleep, they cry, a gentle cry,
No Santa here tonight.

Nothing matters, anymore,
Everyone's gone to bed,
Except me waiting,
Deep in dead of night.