A Poem in Venacular Scots: MY FAITHER AIRMS

A Scottish Poem by AnnMackieMiller

Dad

MY FAITHER AIRMS 

I mind my faithers airms,

strong and chisled flesh

walnut brown

with lines painted,

a map of life-blood

that mark time, place and burdens.

They wer'nae muscley strong mind

but stringy strong, whittled strong

by years o shovelling coal

intae yon great burning monster

that made the jaite.

Tons o coal broocht in big lorries

frae the coal-fields where ither faithers

howked it oot the grund in dark profusion then.

I mind the smell, the heat,

and black stained haunds

adjusting dials and funny wheels.

I mind his laugh ain dae

I asked tae ply the shovel

and couldnae lift the loads

he threw aroon,

muckle heaps o coal piled ceiling high

that dwindled tae noucht alooe his haunds.

I mind his airms pruning roses and turning wood

I mind his hand haundling faithful pipe

and stroking mither's hair

where she sat at his feet by fire.

Aye I mind,

And mindin', miss him still.

Poetry copyright to AnnMackieMiller: Please do not copy