https://www.thepeoplesfriend.co.uk/2020/02/17/writer-of-the-week-patsy-goodsir/
Tuesday, November 30, 2021
Tuesday, October 13, 2020
HE SANG TO ME
I’ d only just stepped outside,
when he hopped towards me
like a small child,
greeting his mother.
not daring to move,
I said hello,
what do you want?
he tilted his haloed eye
and cocked his handsome head,
before bursting into song,
like a rendition of Nessun Dorma,
his crisp tone
speared my heart,
leaving me in awe
that he trusted me enough
to deliver such beauty
in such a captivating way.
Blinking upwards
he almost smiled,
and repeated his song
before he flapped his wings
and was gone,
leaving me humbled
that he sang especially for me.
THE KINLOSS PIGS
Three glorious fields of mud,
alive with happy porkers
snuffling, wallowing, digging,
they trot with wiggling tails,
burrowing into deep, five star straw,
relaxing in welcome sunshine,
but often shielding themselves
from bitter winds in their sturdy igloo dens.
Little do they know what joy they bring
on a dull day with leaden skies,
when they poke out those snouts,
or dance with joy when the sun warms their backs
such happy, creatures, nurturing young,
delightful, squealing little piglets,
that should be going to town with their
handkerchief sacks, draped across their
backs, like pigling Bland.
An adult head, is only just visible
as she wallows, in a glorious well of sticky wet mud,
shutting pretty eyelashes as she doses
and dreams of more sunshine and breakfast tomorrow
such is the life of the happy Kinloss pigs.
HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED INTO A SEAGULL’S EYE ?
Have you ever looked into
a seagull’s eye and thought,
what do you think,
what do you see?
As candy floss clouds
waft silent and free
The tide laps the hulls of the
loose tethered boats,
a soft, restful sound
at the end of the ropes.
Creels brightly coloured
form places to hide
for sparrows and wagtails
while herring gulls glide,
teaching grey youngsters
to fly and to feed,
it’s time to break free,
but the babies still plead,
“come back mum to the quayside”
we don’t want to go,
we’ll just sit here whistling,
til you tell us no.
She’s back with a fish
that she wants for herself,
but the youngsters scream loudly
and grab it with stealth.
Poor worn out mother,
breaks free to the sky,
have you ever looked
into a seagull’s eye?
Patsy Goodsir © 28. 07.17