Celebrations – Skirtingroundmylife

Taxi For Covid

As we get ready to celebrate as best we can, our second Christmas of the pandemic this poem let’s you know what I’d like to order from Santa and that’s why it’s titled Taxi For Covid. I hope you enjoy the read.

Taxi For Covid

From nowhere dark clouds
blacked out light from our lives
we were told to stay home
not to panic buy essential stuff
to venture outside only when we absolutely must

This invisible threat was new to us
a modern day plague swept across borders
changing the established order
forcing us to challenge ourselves
in to finding new ways of doing things
we would never have thought of before

We couldn’t ignore it
though elites did their best to wish it away
homes became our workspace
and classrooms for those in education
we sought inspiration in new ways
during difficult days in an uncertain world
we learned new skills
as technology helped us to see
the friends and family
we weren’t allowed to visit in real time

The internet was our saviour
patterns of behaviour changed
and almost everything moved online
this might have worked for some
but one size didn’t fit all
as many longed for the day
they could to go to the football, the shops or the pub

Meanwhile Zoom was our nightclub , our concert our spoken word gig,
our shared social space
till we waited for the darkness to lift
along with our spirits
when news of a vaccine arrived

Now we’ve survived the worst of the storm
these unforeseen events always bring
though we’re not quite out of the woods just yet
chaos will tempt us by offering just one last dance
before departing to his fate

it is up us to politely decline his request
or be more assertive if required
in telling this nightmare we don’t desire his company
then send him on his way
as we get that shot in the arm
and order a taxi for Covid

Smiling Through The Tears. (A Poem For Glasgow City On Winning Our 14th League Title In A Row)

It’s not that often I get too emotional over football and when I do it usually involves either the Scotland national team or the famous Glasgow Celtic. However since I started following the women’s game just after the 2019 World Cup I have supported Glasgow City and have done so because they stand alone as the only team in Scotland not to be part of a men’s club and focus exclusively on women and girls. Trust me I love this club with a passion just as I love Celtic with a passion and nothing will ever change that. So it is to celebrate the winning of a 14th consecutive league title that I’ve written this poem for my girls. I’ve titled it Smiling Through The Tears I hope you enjoy the read.

Smiling Through The Tears

This was it there was no turning back
death or glory rested on this 90 minutes
there could be no slip ups
as rivals lay waiting to take advantage of any mistakes
claim the title and make history of their own

they started well with two early goals
and trust me the news spread quickly
but we didn’t panic
we just kept calm and got on with the job
in the manner that champions do
though I won’t deny it was bricking it
especially in the early stages

with the game still tied
Lee pulled off the kind of save
that wins titles
it was vital not to lose an early goal
as I screamed beautiful9 expletives
at my TV screen
in poetic sighs of relief

then just like a dream we take the lead
Hayley rifles a shot to the net
suddenly we’re 1-0 in front
I let my emotions rip
yelling ya dancer at the top of my voice
I scream with delight
whilst praying all will be well
who says transwomen can’t multi task.

meanwhile Jo is making sure
we deny our opponents chances
by staying focused in midfield and defence
I am calm yet apprehensive
for those fans lucky enough to be there
I worry it could still go wrong
and others may yet sing a song of victory

we’re controlling the game
but for me there are shades of 98
I know what it’s like
praying for that second goal
to arrive
how my fingernails survived this 90 minutes
I’ll honestly never know

fortunately I didn’t have as long to wait
as I did for Brattbakk’s glory moment
and the second goal settled the nerves
Hayley the architect with a perfect delivery
setting up Niamh to score
I let out a roar when her header hit the net
and I realised that barring miracles fourteen in a row was really going to happen.

we played out the second half
with superb game management
as our injured skipper sat on the bench
kicking every ball in the way a legend does
as full time approached I was buzzing
but as soon as the whistle was blown
the emotions kicked in
as they do on days like this
when dreams come true
and early evening skies show names
of those written in glory

I was just about holding it together
then they interview my shero
who in case you didn’t know
scored the opening goal
and was named as player of the game
that was when the tears came
not in trickles but in torrents
I knew they would if I’m honest
it’s just the way I am
this fan has always worn her heart on her sleeve

then just as I’m drying my eyes
Jo comes up to the mic
as she smiles for the camera
to nobody’s surprise
the rivers run again
and I’m smiling through the tears
at a much deserved success
for our club , our colours. and our girls

Captain Our Captain (For Leanne Ross )

This short poem will hopefully be a rallying call to Glasgow City for the game on Sunday in which our girls need only one point to win the league for the 14th consecutive year. It is I think fair to say that one amazing woman has been instrumental in that glory run, I refer of course to our captain Leanne Ross. It is to Leanne I dedicate this poem which I’ve titled Captain Our Captain I hope you enjoy the read

NB As someone who listenes to Behind The Goals I thank Leanne Crichton for some important information on birthday’s which may have featured in this poem.

Captain Our Captain (For Leanne Ross).

As the big game approaches
our team knows the story
success can be ours
we’re just one game from glory
and we know who will lead us
to answer the call
the legend whose heart
is the biggest of all.

Captain Our Captain
we know what to do
as we go in to battle
we’ll win this for you
you have a big birthday
Leanne let us know
and the party can start
with 14 in a row

The Day The Clyde Turned Pink

In this poem which I wrote for International day against Homophobia, Biphobia, and Transphobia, I recall the events of Pride 2008 which was the first time I had attended it in my home city of Glasgow and explain why it was a very significant event on my journey to self acceptance. I’ve titled it The Day The Clyde Turned Pink I hope you enjoy the read

The Day The Clyde Turned Pink

Pride 2008
my first in my home city
dolled up to the nines
my flatmate walked with me
as the parade made its way
through Glasgow city centre
to the square

once there I mingled with friends
and a future first minister said
she liked my dress
when we spoke after her speech
this was a day when Glasgow reached out to our community
as the young and young at heart
waved to onlookers as cheering crowds took selfies
and Hazel Dean was the star attraction
belting out the classics
we sang at Karaoke
and danced to in the clubs and bars

this was a show in which we were the stars
who all had a part to play
in the unfolding drama of the day
and of course the adventures of the night
this was the first time my Glasgow had really felt right
I was walking the streets with pride
on the day the Clyde turned pink
to match the colour of my dress
and I said yes to accepting myself

From This Day Forward (For Amy Fraser)

Last week one of my favourite ever brides celebrated her first wedding anniversary. Tonight I share the poem I wrote for her big day. It’s dedicated to Amy Fraser and it’s titled From This Day Forward I hope you enjoy the read.

From This Day Forward.

Dreaming since girlhood
planning this day
since before I reached my teens
in the days when crushes came and went
and were symbolised by changes
of posters on my bedroom wall
high school dances
with the boy most likely to claim my heart
faded in to the past like hearts drawn in jotters
or initials carved in desks or maybe on trees
life teaches us lessons to lead us
where it must
and it led me to you
my amazing man who makes dreams come true
just by being yourself
you know me in ways biblical and spiritual
you have learned how to cope with my worst and my best
that’s why I love you and why I said yes
to spending the rest of my life as your wife
It’s why I stand here as your bride
It’s why I smile a secret smile
knowing that all my dreams have come true
and the plans I made for the greatest day of my life
have finally been fulfilled.
as we journey to the future together
from this day forward

The Blether

In this poem I explore the idea of a socially distanced chat like the one I enjoyed with my friend Leanne on the first Sunday of the year. I’ve given it the title The Blether I hope you enjoy the read.

The Blether

On the First Sunday of the year
just when the sky had changed
from daylight to traditional winter black
it dressed to impress the stars
and let the street lamps know it meant business
my friend sends me a message
she asks me if I’m up for a socially distanced chat
informing me she’ll be passing my way
on the road back from the shops
it’s the hour between dinner and boredom
despite the freezing cold weather
I’m up for a blether its been too long
since our last catch up
March seems like a million yesterdays ago
the chill in the air says it’s cold enough for snow
wrapped up and masked up
I go to the front door of my flat
I see a shadow we chat
about our lives since lockdown started
in the dark of late afternoon
the fog restricts my view
I’m cautious about the two metre rule
she says it’s cool we’re about two and a half metres apart
my heart tells me how different this has been in the past
how it will be again when we finally reach a post covid world
and we return to the normality we knew
we swapped festive stories the way friends do
though she would have found my Christmas dinner tale unbelievable
had it been anyone else
but with me involved she knew it was true
she updated me on all her news
saying that home schooling three kids
was both challenging and entertaining
not that she was complaining
well it meant she could work from home
I told her as an unpaid poet that’s all I ever did
we knew this was surreal
the two of us speaking to shadows
covered by an overcoat of fog
mindful of the cold
we didn’t stay out too long
well it was we agreed
better to be safe than sorry
as we prepared for the morning
and tighter restrictions
to symbolise the end of the festivities
and a return to the familiar reality
we’ve known since this unwelcome visitor
became a squatter in our lives
we knew we could have talked for longer
but she had a family awaiting her return
we agreed we should do this again
though it’s hard to keep your distance
from a friend you want to hug
we both know that will have to wait
till a proper get together
and this type of blether will have to do
at least for the foreseeable future

Yes Lads Girls Can Boogie.

If you are a regular reader of my musings on this site you will know of my love for Scotland’s number one women’s football team the wonderful Glasgow City. Well yesterday in the Icelandic capital of Reykjavik they qualified for the last 32 of the UFEA Champions League for the 10th successive season by beating Icelandic champions Valur 4-3 on penalties after a 1-1 draw.

With so many new players settling in to the Glasgow City family it was always going to be a tough ask of the girls. But this team has a winning mentality to get them over the line in games like this and despite a few scares they got there in the end. The celebrations afterwards were as befits a ten in a row a thing of pure joy and as this video which was tweeted by future Glasgow City star Kara Scally shows they gave our tartan army lads some serious singing lessons. If you check it out you’ll see what I mean. You could even say, yes lads girls can boogie.

https://twitter.com/KaraScally/status/1329194199258894336?s=09

Trophies And Tears (For Claire Shine)

In my latest poem I pay an emotional tribute to one of the finest and best players ever to wear a Glasgow City jersey. I refer of course to the amazing Claire Shine. Before you read it I should warn you this one’s a tear jerker as it’s based on an article I read earlier in the year about this gifted footballer and her struggles with depression. It is I hope my way of reaching out to a wonderfully talented player and saying in the only way I know you’re not alone. You are loved and respected by your teammates and adored by our supporters. I’ve titled it Trophies And Tears I hope you enjoy the read

Trophies And Tears (For Claire Shine)

A gifted footballer
she had the world at her feet
dribbling past defenders
like they didn’t exist
until a serious injury
left her in a bad place
taking her to dark days
the smile disappeared from her face
as shadows haunted her heart
eventually she did get back on the park
and the girl from the rebel county shone like a star for Glasgow City
winning league and cup medals
in the colours she claimed as her own
but the call of home was too strong to resist
playing in a treble winning Cork City team of
on the field at least she was living the dream
in a golden year for the club
yet despite the glory days demons stalked her nights
and in days of trophies and tears
an amazing player believed
the cheers she heard were reserved for others
and that she wasn’t worthy
of sharing the success she helped to create
forgetting the role she played in their achievements
she suffered in silence bearing a pain she kept to herself
on pillows where teardrops made patterns
alone with her thoughts when the floodlights went out
ghosts from her past convinced
her she was a burden
the world would be better without
imposter syndrome a silent killer
the villain in a home made horror movie
which was not of her making
off the park her heart was breaking
and plagued with fears
I understand all too well
the hell she was going through
I knew the power of those feelings
from the days before transitioning
and the barriers those who are different have to face
now in a better place
she returned to the city that’s become her second home
she’s back in the colours she calls her own
reunited with teammates and friends
she still knows both trophies and tears
embracing the fact that they are still and always will be part of her life
though this time the tears are a happier kind
as Clydeside holds her close to its heart
fiercely protecting a daughter adopted by choice
now voices are calmed if not yet stilled
and the girl from the rebel country
who is cherished more than she knows
is wrapped in the colours of love
as stars spell out her name
in heart shaped letters

Saturday Ceilidh

This poem was written after a chat with my friend and award winning traditional musician Paddy Callaghan. In it, I look at my teenage Saturday nights and show how the early part of those nights shaped my interest in and love for the traditional music scene both in Scotland and beyond. I’ve titled it Saturday Ceilidh I hope you enjoy the read.

Saturday Ceilidh

In my teens I reached that stage
when Saturday nights were made for dancing
even for those who couldn’t dance
though I loved the songs in the charts
I was slowly but surely developing
a passion for the traditional music
of my country
it was on this voyage of discovery
I learned stories of clearances emigration and war
and that Scotland had not always
been tied to the yoke of union
but fought to preserve our freedom.
till nobles took the bribe
from the Glasgow of the Barras and Red Clydeside
I learned songs of protest and humour
and the story of the rumour
is the greatest monologue ever told
comedy gold crafted with subtlety
I heard tales of the drudgery
of the workers lot
and the way they were told by McDonald and McGinn
made entertaining listening
my feet resisted the temptation
to tap along to Jimmy Shand
I’m sure the laird would understand
my reluctance to the learn the steps
of the jigs and reels
though I appreciated the music
that was played in my Saturday Ceilidh
where I heard every Glen Daly track bar the one I now hear at Paradise
and the Irish songs that made it past the censor
with bits of England, Canada and America
occasionally added to the mix
from 6 till 8 on Saturdays
in the days when I listened to music
to escape from football chat
and the Saturday night TV
I never wanted to watch

The Honeymaking Season

With lockdown extended until early June and possibly longer this poem sums up my current mood as I try to remain optimistic and think of good times shared with friends and the knowledge that though it may take a while those days will come again. I’ve given it the title The Honeymaking Season at the suggestion of my friend and fellow poet Ailie Wallace. I hope you enjoy the read.

The Honeymaking Season

Tomorrow we’ll see sunshine
drink cocktails with friends
in bars where stars shine on stages
meanwhile we craft our thoughts
on blank pages as words call to us write me
this excites me, invites me to participate
in the process of making art
this is even more important now
than it has ever been
in these days it fills the void darkness created
reflecting on memories made
I think on stages which don’t lie empty
and poets musicians and bands
see both friends and fans
hanging on words
like bees around flowers
in the honeymaking season
tomorrow we’ll see sunshine
though for now we are impatient
as we wait for its arrival