WAKE UP MY SON, and further poems by Lindsay Oliver

                                  SOME POEMS BY MY FRIEND LINDSAY OLIVER


                                               
                                             

   

       


                WAKE UP MY SON  Youtube video


                WHY STOP THE CLOCKS Youtube video


                MR. KURTSKE'S SCALE  Youtube video


                THIS SCAR

         
                 LINDSAY'S WEBSITE
 

TAE THE SCOTS TONGUE and further poems composed by SCOTT FORSTER

                               
                          
                       SOME POEMS COMPOSED BY MY FRIEND SCOTT FORSTER





                                                   

         1. TAE THE SCOTS TONGUE

         2. LO! HOW I MISSED YOU THERE

         3. HALF OF THE DIRECTION OF RANDOM CONVERSATIONS

         4. THE TYGER (A translation of  the poem by William Blake)

                  Scottish Language Centre 'Poem of the Month' for April 2015

         5. IN THE MORELL HIE GROUN
       
            (A translation of 'On the Moral High Ground' by Thomas Hoskyns Leonard)

         6. REFERENDUMBIES Youtube video


         7. MY HAPPINESS GOES LIKE THE DYING LIGHT Youtube video


         8. POEMS FOR DAD Youtube video


         9. POEMS COMPOSED ON ARTHUR'S SEAT EDINBURGH Youtube video


       10. WOOD LOUSEY Youtube video


       11. COUNSELLING POEMS

.
       12. CHARLES STUART HOUSE OCCUPATION


       13. LOVE POEMS TO A RADICAL LIKE ME


       14. LOVE POEMS TO EDINBURG


       15. THE PROBLEM


       16. A GENTLENESS MISSING FROM THE REST OF LIFE


       17. YET MORE POEMS TO PAST LOVES


       18. NOU MIDLOTHIAN'S DEID


       19. TO MY FRIEND BROOKE


       20. ANATTA/ REIFIED


       21. YESTERDAY NIGHT WAS SATURDAY NIGHT


       22. TO A LEAVING COMRADE

THE GODDESS FORTUNA (Poem)

                                         

                                                          THE GODDESS FORTUNA

                                                           Thomas Hoskyns Leonard


                                                     

                            Goddess of chance, luck, and fate,

                            The Greek Tyche's soulmate

                            And the Egyptian Isis's intimate

                            Governed the circle of life on the Wheel of Fortune,

                            And took pleasure to importune,

                            Sometimes veiled and blind;

                            To Gaius and Lucius most unkind.

                            Full of life's capriciousness

                            Though could emulate Father Jupiter's bountifulness

                            Long before Pascal and De Fermat devised probability

                            To describe her lack of inscrutability



                            Servius Tullius built an Etruscan temple,

                            On the Tiber, her virtues there to sample;

                            At Forum Boarium she with Mater Matuta entwined,

                             And a cult was born, so refined;

                             On Midsummer's Day Romans made hay

                             And floated downstream while celebrating on the way;

                             Garlanded at the two temples, intoxicated they became

                             And rowed back inebriated to their everlasting fame,


                            Great Constantine the Goddess of Fortune's favours acquired,

                            But as Christ Jesus wished to be admired;

                            So as Constantinople rose they to Fortuna sang

                            While chanting the Kyrie as the bells merrily rang;

                            A pagan and Christian emperor bewitched was he,

                            And he utterly deserved his civil disharmony;

                             Poor Crispus chanced it, and Fausta in a steam-bath met her fate

                            'That wasn't just bad luck,' he thought, but much too late.


                           When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,

                           Bill Shakespeare all alone bewept his outcast state

                           And troubled deaf Heaven with his bootless cries

                           And looked upon himself and cursed his fate

                           If he hadn't chanced his luck, his pox wouldn't have killed his mate.



                         Luck, chance, and fate bemuse philosophers to this day

                         Maybe everything's predestined, but have it your way.

                         Our fortune is their misfortune,

                         As Isis rolls the die,

                         And secretive eugenics takes them like a fly;

                         Maybe we are all controlled by strange powers rippling from above;

                         Maybe the ruthless Gatekeepers are void of human love,

                           

   

BEYOND TEARS (Poem)

                                           
                                                         BEYOND TEARS

                                                by Thomas Hoskyns Leonard

                                                       

                           I did not cry
                           When they teased and bullied me on the sly.

                           I did not cry
                           When Jack me in the gut during rugby foully kicked.

                           I did not cry
                           As the PE master flounced and leered.

                           I did not cry
                           As Yoric bullied, abused, and shamed me to the core.

                           I did not cry
                           When I my ICL exams badly flunked.

                           I did not cry
                           For many years whence and hence.

                           Indeed, I like a madman laughed
                           While overdose nearly me to Heaven sent.

                           And I did not cry
                           When lithium froze my brain.

                           I did not cry
                           When she to living Hell  deserted me.

                           I did not cry
                           When cockroaches and bats my house infested.

                            I did not cry
                            As I tangentialised, blurted, and winged it to scorn.

                           I did not cry
                           When surgeon's knife despoiled my soul.

                           I did not cry
                           When she my savings ripped.

                           I did not cry                
                           When they death-threated me with rings of flowery mirth
                           On behalf of the politico-pedotwat from beyond the Firth.

                            I did not cry
                            When my career to splinters shred

                            I did not cry

                            When I took neither food nor drink

                            I did not cry
                            When dogs would come and eat me up

                            I did not cry
                            When my dear father to Heaven sadly went

                            I did not cry

                            While, for ten full years, foul Epilim straightjacketed me

                             I did not cry
                             When modafinil me into neuro-psychiatric streams of consciousness sent

                             I did not cry
                             When the Men from Havana death-threated me
                            'Cos they'd disappeared honest Artur from their loathsome scene;
                            The voyeuristic non-doctor, non-aristocrat-out-of-Castle-Tulloch, no less,
                            And his face was such a mess!

                            I did not cry
                            When the shrink treated me like a fly

                            I did not cry
                            When the amisulphide and tardive dyskinesia set in

                            I did not cry
                            When I into the deep sleep of the toxic black dog went.

                            I did not cry
                            When melanoma hit my wrist.

                            I did not cry
                            When venous insufficiency screwed my legs.

                            I did not cry
                            When diabetes invaded and poisoned me.

                            I did not cry
                            When dearest loving aunt and uncle forsook my cause.

                            I did not cry
                            When the arch-psycho of Londinium to his Purgatory went.

                            I did not cry
                            When Yoric played with his willy and my dear father's will.

                            I did not cry
                            When the darling Vanessa of my dreams turned the screws.

                            I did not cry
                            When with mere A.D.D. I was finally diagnosed.

                            But now my dear Thomas is hurt and feels his back
                            I shed my tears,
                            And I will forever protect him with my fears.

SELECTED POEMS (2012-2015) by Thomas Hoskyns Leonard

                                                  SELECTED POEMS (2012-2015)

                                                        Thomas Hoskyns Leonard




                                                     

                                     

                                                           ANNO DOMINI 2012

                     

                         1. The Tramps of Hopetoun Crescent Gardens

                         2. Ode to a Crossdresser                     YOUTUBE VIDEO

                         3. An Ode to Salvation

                         4. Onwards to Church

                         5. My Dark Knight

                         6. Away to A and E

                         7. The Mayflower Rose                     YOUTUBE VIDEO

                         8. To My Aunt Gloria  (An Adaptation of 'May the road rise up to meet you)


                                                                                    YOUTUBE VIDEO


                                                         ANNO DOMINI  2013

                         1, A Satanic Orgy

                         2. Life on the Yealm

                         3. Mothecombe Beach

                         4. The Sands of Salcombe

                         5. The Flying Windmill

                         6. The Blue Preying Mantis

                         7. Rebel with a Cause

                         8. The Dancer in the Pink Tutu

                         9. The  Gauntlet

                       10. Flying by Queasy Jet

                       11. In Praise of Thomas Tallis

                       12. St. Agnes Steve

                       13. The Garden and the Lake

                       14. The Signet, the Circle, and the Shrinks

                       15, The Sprite of Sharpitor

                       16. The George Noble Story

                       17. The Peter and Mary Tavy Time Pixie

                       18.  To Cath (with Thomas Tallis)                                      YOUTUBE VIDEO

                       19. The Thaw and the Revival (with Nicola Romanski)     YOUTUBE VIDEO

                       20. Summertime in Edinburgh

                       21. The Bayesians of Auld Edinburgh

                       22. Five Acrostic Poems in Ottava Rima

                       23. My ABC of Faces

                       24. The Moral Highground (with translation by Scott Forster
                                                                     into the Scots tongue)

                       25. To Irene Watson
               
                       26. Leighanne

                       27, Wherefore Dennis?          YOUTUBE VIDEO

                       28, Ode to Uncle John

   
                                             
                                                    ANNO DOMINI 2014

                     
                        1.   UCL Reunion (Youtube Video)


                    My poems 2. English Family Connections and 3. Jack's Lost Brother remain on file

                                                     A poignant year, so to speak

                        My heart goes out to the Emperor Claudius, Robert Graves's version of course
                  




                                                   ANNO DOMINI 2015

                     
                        1. DOUGHNUT GROYNE

                        2. KEMPTOWN

                        3. A LIFETIME OF A.D.D. UNDIAGNOSED

                        4. PRIVATE CHIROPODIST IN ABBEYHILL

                        5. ULTRA-MIDDLE CLASS

                        6. TO JOHN AND ORESTIS, CO-AUTHORS EXTRAORDINAIRE

                        7. AROUND AND ABOUT EAST LOTHIAN

                        8. BEYOND TEARS

                        9. THE GODDESS FORTUNA

                      10. THE BLUSHING PINK ROSE

                      11. PRIDE

                      12. THE TRUE OLYMPIANS

                      13. WHO RULES BIG PHARMA AND THE WORLD

                      14. RAINBOW GIRL

                      15. THE QUEEN'S TRUE COLOURS

                      16. THE SPACE-TIME ZONE CAPSULE

                      17. THE RUSTLING DOWN THE LINE

                      18. FAMILY PETS

                      19, JASON AND STEPH

                      20. SCUM AND WIMPS, ONE YEAR ON (with Thomas Tallis)

                      21. THIS PIGGY TORY WENT TO MARKET

                      22. GRUMPY SUPERVISOR

                      23. NURSE JULIE AT OPAT


                                                 

                        TO TOM LEONARD, BAYESIAN BOY, by Scott Forster

                                           YOUTUBE VIDEO

AROUND AND ABOUT EAST LOTHIAN (Poem)

               
                                           AROUND AND ABOUT EAST LOTHIAN

                                                        Thomas Hoskyns Leonard    
                               
                                         

            

                          Craigiehall Golf Club for a sumptuous bite,

                          Folk with airs and graces
           
                          And snotty smiles on their faces;

                          Duck's for an expensive drink and a fight;

                          So straight out of Aberlady in the Toyota, Lucinda

                          To escape Eilidh, Pips, and Belinda.

                          Gullane Beach was within easy reach

                          And Thomas stayed in the car devouring a peach.

                          Tide was in

                          And Scott chased a sea nymph in a spin,

                          She cocked a snoot,

                          So he shouted 'Hoot, hoot'

                          And ended up in the bin.

                          Dirleton was quaint,

                          Though Castle Inn needed some paint

                          And the big ginger barmaid was enough to make me wanna faint.

                          Traipsed 'round the ancient shrubberies

                          Getting up to childish skulduggerys,

                          And recalling historical murders and thuggerys.

                          Then back to car

                          'Cos Thomas wanted to drive afar

                           And I wanted to put the lizards into my jar.

                          Outside North Berwick almost hit Queen Anne's withering witch,

                          But Thomas switched gears with a twitch

                          And drove into barley farmstead

                          While the lights were still on red,

                           Hit a pothole,

                           Which sent us into a roll,

                          And plunged into a ditch.

                           In Seabird Centre, Scott bumped into an albatross,

                           Who turned out to be a rector from Kinross,

                           And I took a gawp at the gannets on Bass Rock,

                           And felt like joining the flock.

                           At Tantallon Castle,

                           We skipped paying, with no hassle,

                           And strode through curtain wall

                           Into an imaginary hall,

                           Only to encounter the Red Douglas ghost

                           Who was neighing, and salivating his most.

                            It chased us to the mighty cliff top
                       
                            And attempted to dispatch us with a hefty whop,

                            But we fled back over the bridge to the dovecot

                            And hid like pigeons for a lonely hour in that spot.

                            Cutting back through Athelstaneford in a tizz,

                            We sought solace in the Scottish Saltire Centre, but gee whiz!
 
                             A very small dovecot marked that legendary spot

                             And we crawled through the tiniest of doors

                             Onto a gravelly dung scattered floor.

                             'This is where Hungus the Mungus

                              Defeated the Angles and Rectangles,'

                              An educated Pictish voice coolly announced.

                              'Here Hungus saw the Saltire in the sky in 832,

                               And made Prince Athelstan his lack of graciousness eternally rue.'

                              'Poppycock!" cried Thomas. "Go and sell the tourists Brighton Rock."

                              ' 'Cos your History of Scotland smells like a Highlander's sock.'
 
                              ' Away with ye!" yelled the voice behind the screen.

                              ' Not even the Yanks say things quite so mean.

                               I feel like stabbing you in the spleen.'

                               So cross the Churchyard we in a goosy gaggle fled,

                               Wishing we were safely tucked into our feather beds,

                               There'pon we zoomed through Haidentoun of English Edgar's yore

                               Without buying royal hamburger for the poor,

                                Twixt plush Maitland and church within church,

                                Without trying the dumb pheasants to besmirch,

                                Cross paltry Tyne without a whine,

                                And on t'wards Gifford in yesteryear's parish

                                While Scott played the jester like a manically austere dervish.

                                And lo and behold! Hello Ma Maw!

                                We had reached the Goblin Ha',

                                 There we drank with the locals and yokels

                                 Till the bland joker sent us on our way,

                                 And back to the Toyota we tottered and swayed,

                                 "Let's cut to the West," cried Thomas, "for one last call,"

                                 And we made it to the Flotterstone Inn in the Pentlands' thrall,

                                  There I remembered our dinner with Cousin Cordelia,

                                  And our forthright discussions with Ophelia.

                                  " To the ultra-middle class English!" I sighed,

                                  "If only I could with them again abide."

                                  "Fuck you!" howled Thomas and Scott,

                                  Scots to the core. What a bore!

                                  "You can take the bus," screeched Scott,

                                  And I only got home to Crescent Hopetoun after a tremendous fuss,

                                  Where I felt ready to rot.

                                   And now in the expanses of  King Arthur's Lothian,

                                   I wished I was a shapeshifting Carpathian,

                                   Because in this ocean I'm only a dot.