Monthly Archives: April 2019

X Marks the Scot

X Marks the Scot

 

X Marks the Scot

 

I saw a chap today quite proudly besporting
A tee shirt indicating whom he seemed to be supporting
But I may be mistaken in making such assumption
Perhaps about his politics I have made a wrong presumption

Emblazoned on his chest like cattle being branded
The saltire sign displayed quite heavy-handed
But that white cross simply marked the spot
Which contained the ample torso of a plucky Scot

For it seems to me that the Nats have no real monopoly
Of what constitutes Scottishness as defined by anthropology
When you are casting your vote X might mark the spot
But surely not the totality of what we mean by Scot

It has been said that a true Scotsman can be identified
By up-skirting him when he wears his kilt with pride
But I doubt if this dubious procedure would really prove conclusive
And in these PC days would be considered most abusive

So the marks of the Scot, of either sex or none
Are not just a flag, however it’s homespun
It’s about an attitude of openness that welcomes all the world
Symbolised in that white cross when our flag’s unfurled

Ken Fisher

 

Roller Coaster

Roller Coaster

 

 

Like a roller coaster ride life’s full of ups and downs
Some days our face contorts with smiles at other times it’s frowns
The trick is learning how to cope with these undulations
Not allowing all those dips to drive us to frustration

When we are on the upslope and everything is fine
The world seems in our favour our future quite benign
We reach the top of the loop feeling so elated
As we start the steep decline we then become deflated

Thus we progress along the line by many fits and starts
The carriage lurches back and forth shaking all our parts
At one time we find ourselves completely upside down
Excitement enough to induce nervous breakdown

And then at last the coaster slows down towards the station
Our beating hearts cease their rapid palpitations
But suddenly it’s all gone flat the thrills are dissipated
We yearn once more for such delights unanticipated

As with the roller coaster ride, in life we seek excitement
For although tranquil days may bring us much contentment
But lest dull boredom should become a constant feature
We pray the twisting spiral will recoil early in the future

Ken Fisher

A New Version of Yourself

A New Version of Yourself

Perhaps what we need to do is something really radical
Reject past history, forget all that’s done and dusted
Boldly initiate change, don’t say that it’s impractical
With firm resolve our life can surely be adjusted

Why the need for planning such a revolution
With our daily lot are we really discontent?
What is the problem seeking a solution
Urging us to consider the need to re-invent

The style gurus and life coaches have written their prescription
The old self has got to go, its habits and obsessions
A need for a new version of yourself is their firm conviction
A rebirth, a new start,  new image, absolutely no concessions

Thus if we really want to follow that advice so ‘wise’
A complete make-over of all we are, appears to be imperative
Like that ugly ducking or caterpillar we then will metamorphasise
But can we ensure contentment after all this change restorative?

Ken Fisher

So Much Depends

So Much Depends

Are we free to act as we alone would choose?

Born an individual, but not a solo act

Imprisoned by our genes, brainpower and physique

Blessed and blighted by our up-bringing

Constrained by society, race and opportunity

Our health, wealth and security governed by others

So much depends on this past inheritance

How can we break free from the marionette strings?

Dare we defy the puppet master?

So much depends on self-belief and confidence

Self-belief in our own chosen path

And confidence to pursue that course

So let’s shun a robotic determinism

Thankful to those on whom erstwhile we have depended

We cast aside all shackles and excuses

Accountable to ourself alone

 

Ken Fisher

Silent Sentinels

Silent Sentinels

 

Silent sentinels strewn across a barren moor
Giant windmills, blades turned towards the flow
Of air which thus provides the driving force
Breath converted into mechanical energy

Human intervention made redundant
In this inanimate workshop in the hills
Unattended machinery, autonomous devices
Whispering their subservience to mankind

Some protest against the presence of these sails
Scarring the skyline by their whitewashed towers
Others claim they are the enemy of birds in flight
Their mighty flails threshing them to early death

Advocates of green energy laud their contribution
To saving the life of our fragile threatened sphere
Renewable resources much more environmentally friendly
Sustainability is the watchword of these zealots

And as arguments rage and debate seethes below
These tall structures quietly spin their magic spell
As long as they have breath their duty to perform
We can live and work and play as they gyrate

Ken Fisher