Clan Cunningham Poetry Contest.
During a telephone conversation between my father, Jim, and I while making our plans to ski together in kilts on Tartan Day, we found the topic to have somehow wound its way to the poetry of Robert Burns. Probably from my quoting of the immortal line “The best laid schemes o’ mice and men” from his poem To a Mouse. In any case, that then reminded us of a book of children’s poems my Grandmother once had published. So, then I queried whether Jim had any interest in poetry himself. Or more to the point, whether he had any interest or talent in writing poems. I tried to entice him to give it a try by offering to publish it, if it had a Scottish or Cunningham theme. He called back later that evening and read to me, not one, but two poems he had composed that day. And true to my word, follows the works of James Augsbury:
.
Ode to a Vole
.
In days gone by
when mowing fields,
my eyes enjoyed
what nature yields.
when mowing fields,
my eyes enjoyed
what nature yields.
A scavenging rodent
runs in fear,
its life to save
for one more year.
This desperate run
by simple reason,
to survive another
mowing season.
Vole to the man:
“My life you’d end?
I’ll offer this,
just be my friend.”
So to the vole
from this ole bard:
“Relax, enjoy
my unmown yard.”
.
Hold Your Breath
or
Tartan Day Kilted Ski Runs
.
Its Tartan Day
and time for fun,
to carve some
kilted ski runs.
and time for fun,
to carve some
kilted ski runs.
The idea came
from the High Commish,
to make some turns
with Scottish swish.
Invites go out
for all to try.
It dawns on me…
and why not I!
Surprised, Lorc says,
“your kilt I have,
saltire boxers,
and lots of salve.”
The plans are made,
the flights are booked.
So now we’ll see,
whose goose gets cooked.
With hills and spills
and kilts a flyin’,
we’ll make it down
or die a tryin’.
But as for now
we’ll wait and see,
who’ll fair, and how,
my son and me!
.
Poems with a Celtic or Cunningham theme submitted by current CCSA members to query@clancunningham.us by August 31, 2009 will have a chance to win a free membership for 2010. The winner will be chosen by a volunteer Acquisitions Editor at an academic book publishing firm, and will be announced – with the winning poem published – in the October 2009 issue of the international Clan Cunningham Communiqué quarterly newsletter. Theme and originality will be important criteria used by the judge. Join at http://www.clancunningham.us/memberform.jsp?nav_id=3.
The Making of a Clansman
ReplyDeleteBy Denise Stana, June 2009©
There is a place that we all know
The Cunning ham of long ago
A gathering forms now there below
Secrets to share so he will grow
A hush and silence fills the air
They gather round to prepare
The ancients whisper in his ear
All of time’s secrets to endear
Here they come one and all
To impart wisdom so he’ll grow tall
All will heed this great call
For much must be given to one so small
The Clan’s great Icons know their duty
The Unicorn’s wings now touch is face
This gives him virtue, courage and beauty
His mind will be strong, his heart filled with grace
A visit from Friskine will touch his heart
This boy will be brave and do no wrong
His blue eyes will seek never to be apart
From the Clan nor his home for long
Coneys are little visitors gentle and pure
Rise up to sweeten his words with a kiss
Their gentleness is given for him to be sure
That his kindness and thoughts will not be amiss
He hears the words from Bobby Burns
So loves song and his life will be a rhyme
The ability to be quick and he instantly learns
He will defeat aged thought and cheat father time
His time is near, we must be quick
One last visitor to see our son
The Earl of Glencairn will do the trick
He places a crown on our wee one
We hold our breath, the time has come
He waves goodbye to all he knows
The dark, the light, the journeys done
He awakes, he cries, he is home.
Dedicated to Ian Guthrie Kolick, Age 1
The eleventh generation of Thomas Cunningham, Ayrshire Scotland and all the sons of Clan Cunningham.
My Dad’s mother was a Guthrie and his father was Maness – Clan Gunn
ReplyDeleteMy father has been deceased for many years and during his lifetime he wrote many poems and many lyrics for folk songs….he told me that he was related to the well-known folk singer, Woody Guthrie.
Several years before he died he wrote this poem, it is entitled Scottish Mariner, at his funeral the minister noted that “It is given to very few men to write their own epitaph and with such expression.” This poem has been forever cast upon my Dad’s grave marker for all to see who visit the cemetery in which he rests.
The Scottish Mariner
On some driftwood
in the soft balmy wind
I will ride out on the tide
when it flows back again there will be
green grass at the end of the flow
I will be at sea, for it won’t let me go.
I will have my place in heaven
Right up there in the sky
Where I can see the deep blue
And watch the gulls fly.
--Lester Lee Maness
August 5, 1916 – February 5, 1983
Cunningham: The Clan
ReplyDeleteFor the poetry contest
by Leston James, June 14, 2009
The clan, a group,
a band of brothers,
family, fathers,
sisters and mothers.
We all join together
with tartans held high,
proud of our heritage
and willing to die.
Defending each other,
woman and man,
that’s what it means
to be part of the clan.
Handing down our traditions
from each generation,
staying true to our flag,
and true to our nation.
The stories we tell
to our children at night,
they’ll be our history,
so be sure they’re right.
While history is written
and folks watch your life,
recording your battles
and all of your strife.
Dear lads and lassies
of two things be sure,
keep guard o’er your honor
and keep your name pure.
Live proud and courageous,
woman and man,
for that’s what it takes
to be part of the clan.
Return to Cunning Ham
ReplyDeleteBy Denise Stana, June 2009
The dark is near, are they all here?
I seek and reach and hear the pipes
In search for those that I've held dear
I be to see the tartan stripes!
At last, at once, there is the Clan
The ones I have loved -- the ones I have missed
Each and every child woman and man
I encircle each one, each one I have kissed
Daddy, Mommy, my brothers, dearest Tippy, too
Excitedly telling how I have been missed
So great to see them--the Clan anew
So easy to be here..now I know it exists!
Dear Mae your loves are here and you will know them;
they have walked with you each and every day
They send their love and your music surrounds them
Dear sister, don't worry...you will know the way.
Darling Dorothy, the wee ones send their love
Little cherubs that patiently wait
Gently cooing in harmony as little doves
Awaiting their mother's entrance thru the gate
Sweet sister jean, all are here who have gone before and Les
Find peace in your health and your days will be long
We all pray everyday for your happiness
Those years gone by should continue on in song
Baby brother Jerry, our youngest and dear one
Our prayer for you is to be strong
We know your journey and we wish you joy
As we know our wait for you will be long!
Dearest children of mine so brave and so true
you are my light, my loves and my forever
For me you must play, laugh and never be blue
I will be with you as you travel and will leave you never!
So as I join theh others in the ancient ways of Cunningham
I wear the colors of red, black and white hues
I hear the pipes of olden days of Cunningham
I feel the mist of ocean spray and love the water blues.
Greive for me darlings...never
though it may seem long, our parting will be short
Reunited our days together will be forever
You ask where?...the music of Scotland will be the retort!