Shamrocks On The Hill

Like much of the political village I watched with interest as America welcomed it’s new President to the Whitehouse. After collecting my thoughts I wrote this poem to celebrate Joe Biden becoming the 46th President of The United States I’ve titled it Shamrocks On The Hill in honour of his Irish ancestry. I hope you enjoy the read.

Shamrocks On The Hill

On a day when optimism filled the air

a man gained his reward

for a lifetime to service and dedication.

he talked serving his nation

extending the hand of friendship

to those who oppose his policies

this was a far cry from the words

of the man he succeeded

who bragged of building walls and citizens armies

and called Covid19 the China Virus

this is a man who will use silence wisely

and quiet times to collect his thoughts

he’ll not imagine enemies

or use the language of disguise

to weaponise others

he won’t use social media to shock the world

he will engage with the voters

listen to their concerns and fears

as he attempts to rebuild trust

between government and people

when he talked of hope over fear

there were tears in my eyes

and I can’t lie when J-Lo sung this land

I was glad to see shamrocks on the hill

where a son of Mayo listened

to the winds singing freedom

under a star spangled sky

© Gayle Smith 2021

God’s Waiting Room

Though I haven’t been to church since the start of the pandemic I still have a strong faith but I wonder if I still have a place in the Church of Scotland. The national church is it seems still catching up with the 21st century and may get there some time around the 25th. Now don’t get me wrong there is a place for tradition within the church but it needs to reach out to the young to ensure that it can get rid of the image it has of being a place where the old go to die. I’ve given it the title God’s Waiting Room I hope you enjoy the read.

God’s Waiting Room.

Shaped and moulded by years of conditioning

the harsh Presbyterian guilt trips an article of faith .

this calvinist land cares too much

for the notion of the elect.

respecting others who don’t respect them.

deferring to so called betters,

it hasn’t caught up with humanity’s changing agenda.

maybe that’s why, though the church

is an imposing local landmark.

and everyone knows where it is

few actually attend the weekly gathering.

of those who do, it’s mainly the old

who sit in God’s waiting room.

they have what a friend once called

a season ticket for funerals

for some church is the only chance they’ll get for human contact

chat shows and three diets of daily news

don’t really count in quite the same way

give them this day their daily bread

make sure they are actually fed

not by every word that comes from the mouth of the lord

or from the BBC

but by acts of kindness from you and me

from those of us they’ll never see on Sundays.

we are the next generation the church needs to reach

if it is ever again to become the house of god

rather than a waiting room where the old go to die

history will not judge it kindly if it fails in this task

and the ashes are scattered of the reformed church

which was too apathetic to reform.

© Gayle Smith 2021

Change Of Course

As Saturday was World Mental Health Day this poem looks the impact of depression on the lives on who have experienced it or lived with its consequences. I’ve given it the title Change Of Course I hope you enjoy the read.

Change Of Course

The black dog taunted my teens
haunting my dreams with fears
my pillow knew the pain of tears
but I discovered early that running away from reality
wore out my shoes and my soul
restraint and self control were unwanted gifts
given by a mother who quoted
what she believed God should have said but didn’t
only seeing the inside of a church on songs of praise
the 80’s were difficult days for those society said were different
words like queer and bent and worst of all sissy
for boys who wanted to be girls
insults were ten a penny for gay men
but those like me were beneath contempt
even for the red top revolutionaries
who wanted us to goosestep back to the 1930’s
and those halcyon days of fascism
when those of us considered a threat
were marched off to death camps
it was only slightly modified under Thatcher
her brand of politics despised in the North Glasgow scheme
in which I was raised
just as in her day the current brand
of caring Conservatives proclaim
that in this united kingdom we must
get a bike and get on it to find new jobs
God save Scotland from Calvin John Knox and Orange Walks
and most of all better together
I don’t do science is a Daily Express reader
attempting to be clever
as they parrot the line
about artists and creatives
needing to find alternative employment
and narrow minded suits
too conservative to know
what enjoyment is or ever was
are suspicious of Santa Claus
because of his socialist tendencies
giving presents to the children of the earth
they protest that this is outrageous
terrified kindness could be contagious
continue to draw pink boxes
with black dogs on every corner
laying in wait to take you down
the darkest road
they know or at least they should
running away from reality just wears out your shoes and your soul
luckily I had a change of course
the black dog no longer visited
moving on to prey on its next victim
and I pray for them to be forgiven of the sins
I know they haven’t committed.

© Gayle Smith 2020

A World Beyond Triangles (In The 80’s It Was Blacks And Gays)

In this poem I look at the recent trend towards the demonisation of disabled people and trans people and especially transwomen. In doing so, I remember that those of us who lived through the Thatcher years have been down this road before when it was Gay Men and members of the Black And Minority Ethnic community who were main targets for the hate squads mobilised by the right wing and even socially conservative left wing press and media. It was a challenging time back in the day but just as those of us who believe in equality fought and beat the racists and the homophobes in the 80’s and 90’s we will fight and beat the disablists and transphobes of today. I’ve titled this poem A World Beyond Triangles and if you know how Hitler and the Nazis targeted their opponents in 1930’s Germany you’ll know why. I hope you enjoy what I think will be a thought provoking read.

A World Beyond Triangles (In The 80’s It Was Blacks And Gays)

In the 80’s it was blacks and gays
who were being targeted
by the Mail reading
songs of praise watchers
and we turned away
because Scotland had other problems
if something wasn’t sitting at our door
we choose to ignore it
focusing instead on the fact
that we had two sets of Saturday Christians at war.
flaunting their versions of faith
at football matches or parades
in the summer
while ministers and priests said
numbers were diminishing in the pews
where there was good news to be heard
yet nobody wanted to listen
as individualism took hold
and Thatcher claimed there was no such thing as society
minority groups were targeted
and smears were spread
like kiss a gay man and you’ll end up
dead from aids
it was a gay plague we were told
as section 28 saw attitudes turn ugly
and blacks are taking over the country
was screamed by tabloids in banner headlines
and more broadsheets than would care to admit it
peddled lies to sell enough copies
to make the rich even richer
and others who grew up in all white housing schemes
afraid of the picture they painted
back in the 80’s it was blacks and gays that were labelled
fast forward to the present
it’s transwoman and disabled people
who are being hounded by the press
if you don’t have a wheelchair or something else they can see
then they’ll say you aren’t disabled enough to warrant support
your death will be a footnote
in the local press
and fake revolutionaries with red rosettes
will express solidarity with those closest to you
and not mean a word of the carefully rehearsed statement
conveinantly forgetting it was a party they probably vote for
who gave atos the licence to be contract killers for hire
and making liars of themselves for the press
as a transwoman I will not take a dressing down
or be made to feel afraid of being myself
my emotional health will not be sacrificed
to suit the needs of glorified typists
in shirts and ties
attempting to disguise themselves as journalists
or career politicians with ambitions
to walk all over equality to get to the top
no matter what rosettes they wear
and I despair to report my party
are not immune
from this socially conservative type
who don’t accept the rights of others
to be who we are
though I won’t give up on the fight to win them round
on all equality issues there is a middle ground
which we have a duty to seek
and if that means making compromises
that is what has to be done
before it’s too late
we’ve won some great victories
in the past by working this way
in the 80’s it was blacks and gays
who were targeted by mail reading
songs of praise watchers
in those dark days we turned our backs
on problems we chose to neglect
on those the media selected
as they said they were not like us
but this time I’d like to think
we had moved on
to a world beyond triangles
and learned the meaning of the words of Matthew chapter seven
judge least you be judged

© Gayle Smith 2020

Take It On The Chin

Last night I was asked by my cousin Annemarie if I could write a poem for NHS Belfast Trust where she works as a domestic. On asking me to undertake this task she explained that the trust want to have memories of this time to store in their achieve and she thought I was just the girl to provide them with one. Naturally I was delighted to accept this challenge and this is the poem I produced I’ve titled it Take It On The Chin which you’ll recall was the initial reaction and I still believe preferred choice of UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson to the threat of Covid19. I hope you enjoy the read.

Take It On The Chin

This city has a history of dividing lines
where murals of past battles
show colour changes
quicker than rainbows
in the wizard of oz
and flags like geography
are contested territory
with beliefs worn like badges of honour
according to the church you don’t attend on Sunday morning
this virus gives no warnings
and doesn’t care what school
you went to
or the housing estate you grew up in
It’s quite something when two contrasting communities
are scared of the same thing
and both of them are right to be afraid

on the front line we wait to see
the latest information as to how to save lives
in the middle of a crisis which shows
no sign of easing up
yes lockdown is tough but it has to be done
trust me this is nobody’s idea of fun
we’re not doing it for laughs
our staff need more PPE masks
to keep us safe as we do our best
to protect our friends, neighbours , communities
yet a socially distant government
prays for herd immunity
and prioritises economic profit
for a few wealthy friends
over the people they pretend to care about
and our national health
don’t they realise the wealth of the nation
depends on the well being of its citizens
we do and believe me we deal with danger daily
face it in all aspects of our jobs
perhaps if the Prime Minister worked in the wards
like our doctors , our nurses , our surgeons, our orderlies
he would better understand the problems we face
in the fight against this pandemic
this global plague
and why we can’t afford to take it
on the chin
this is a fight we have to win
yet we are being asked do it
with one hand tied behind our backs

as two flags fly side by side in the breeze
death unites nationalist and unionist
in a way politics could never quite manage to do
green white and orange or red white and blue
the story remains the same stay home save lives
and stay alert to the dangers of Eton riffles
playing Russian roulette with reality

© Gayle Smith 2020

Prayers And Promises

On international day against Homophobia, Transphobia Biphobia and Interphobia this poem challenges those who have irrational dislikes of anyone in the LGBT + community. That said I challenged myself during the writing process not to adopt a rant like style when tackling what is for me as a transwoman a potentially emotive subject. With this in mind I thought on the friend with whom I’m most likely to discuss my faith related poetry and that for those who haven’t guessed is the one and only Samantha Naidoo. You see Sam has form when it comes to encouraging me to stay on the right track and I knew she would want me to take a more considered approach to the matter. It was thinking along these lines that led me to the book of Matthew and the passing judgement on others and it was from this I have written a poem which I have titled Prayers And Promises I hope you enjoy the read.

Prayers And Promises

The fear in some people’s eyes

when they see two guys sharing a moment of tenderness

shows more than just hostility

it’s like their concept of masculinity

has been called in to question

and that can never be allowed

they are too proud to let it be

the unwelcome stares that lesbians get

when showing a public display of affection

leads to stereotyping and taunts from those

who believe they have the right to ask

out of curiosity you understand

if they want a real man or a threesome

no harm was meant of course

it was just a bit of fun

when your bisexual you are told your greedy

you can’t play for both teams in one game

you are informed that you either straight or gay

and have to make a choice or pick a side

by those who will never know

the meaning of pride or self respect

and lack to the self awareness to know it

when your a transwoman as I am

you are told you’re a man by those who’ll never understand

if you wish to be male you are reminded

that you’ll never be one of the boys

like gender identity was ever a matter of choice I think not

I was a girly swot long before

the phrase became part of the political lexicon

eventually you have to think of a world beyond the binary

of blue and pink gender labels

yet some seem unable to chart this course

or possibly and more honestly unwilling to try it

their attitudes mean people are dying because of who they are

cut down to suit the egos of those

who wear badges of conformity

like the medals they were never meant to be

you see in every nation there is

and has always been blood on the rainbow

many are killed or driven to the land of no hope

because strangers couldn’t cope with who they were

or how they lived their lives

and demonised and taunted those they considered fair game

to be blamed for the ills of society

in every land there has to be scapegoats

on this day we remember them in silent prayers

as a transwoman of faith I place my trust in the spotless one

the lamb who was slain for our sins and knows

language is the secret killer the enemy uses

to do the devils bidding

and how we who have faith and are LGBT

must stand on the promise of God

to deliver us from evil

© Gayle Smith 2020

Bread Of Life

In this poem I examine the importance of what some would term small talk and others would call gossip to the local community and explain why it may not always be a bad thing. I’ve given it the title Bread Of Life on the advice of Baillieston boy and current Screiver of the Federation of Writers of Scotland Charlie Gracie. I hope you enjoy the read.

Bread Of Life

The main street is a hive of activity
most days, and nights at weekends.
friends and neighbours
exchange news in the street
this place doesn’t have or need
a local paper.
the villagers know what they know
as they find out what’s happening on the rumour mill.
so often a feature of places like this
you have to understand the stories shared
are exaggerated for effect
but it’s seldom done in malice.
some call it gossip
whilst others say it’s the bread of life.
shared after morning service
when people meet in kirk or chapel halls .
or after school in the shops
the young frequent on the journey home from school
as for me I obey the golden rule I keep myself to myself
well you do when you’re not a local
it’s the diplomatic way of pleading the fifth
in disputes over things that shouldn’t matter
this place doesn’t have or need a local paper
and it never ever will
for as long as the rumour mill keeps turning
it provides the bread of life
served with pudding suppers
or an after match refreshment

© Gayle Smith 2020

A Land Without Shadows (In Memory Of Derek Ogg)

On Saturday the Scottish LGBT Community was left devastated by the death of one of our greatest activists Derek Ogg. I learned of Derek’s death from my friend Scott Agnew and in this poem I attempt to do justice to one of our most influential and inspirational campaigners. A pioneer for LGBT Equality, Derek Ogg was a respected and talented lawyer with a sharp legal brain who just happened to be gay at a time when it was still illegal in Scotland. It was in no small part due to Derek Ogg and others like him that eventually changed in the early 1980′ s, though his strength of character was severely tested in the fight as the press all too often resorted to character assination and outright demonisation in their quest to keep Scotland free from those their narrow minds called monsters. It is due to the man who formed the Scottish Homosexual Rights Group and later The Scottish Aids Monitoring Service that those attitudes eventually changed and being LGBT became more accepted and our country benefited for it. Make no mistake Scotland’s LGBT Community lost a towering figure on Saturday and a man to whom every single one of us owes a tremendous debt. We would not be in the position we are now had it not been for Derek’s willingness to fight for our equality. I have given the poem the title A Land Without Shadows I hope you enjoy what I hope is a fitting tribute to a man who fought for us all

A Land Without Shadows

In my school years
admitting you liked
the Bay City Rollers
was an invatation
for homophobic slurs
to be written about you
on toilet walls
as would be grafitt artists
showed why they would
fail their highers
in both English and Art
and learn absolutely nothing
in sex education
as they went about telling the world
you might as well be a girl
and you’d blush because you knew
they were right
and didn’t take it as the insult
they hoped you would
but you kept quiet
even though your mind was running riot
well you didn’t to give the wolves
the chance to hunt in packs
taunting those considered different
was fair game at the time in a country
where being LGBT was still illegal
and considered a crime
worthy only of ridicule and social death
till you left those days behind
shutting the gates on jotters
but never on learning
meanwhile an advocate
with a yearning for a better country
endured ugly headlines
from a press all too eager to demonise him
as a monstrous threat to society
because his life didn’t fit
the picture of a nation
repressed by the sobriety of the kirk
and perpetrators of moral panic
to them homosexuality was a sin
punished by relentless persecution
the sexual revolution never did reach St Giles
let alone any other parish
and being trans was a fantasy
beyond the imagined realities
of their ken
in this puritanical Presbyterian land
you could be anything you wanted
but not one of them
this was what he was up against
a climate of hate based on prejudice and fear
where to be labelled queer
was the biggest insult you could get
yet he fought to change hearts
during the Thatcher years
when aids was given the name
the gay plague
and worshipped by the evangelical right
as some sort of devine retribution
against the sinners
in the time when lunacy for beginners
had never been more popular
and racist, sexist , and homophobic jokes
were passed off as the jocular norms of day
this gay man stood up and told us
not to be afraid but be proud
and gradually those of us
in closets with shadows round our hearts
began to realise his words of wisdom
and one by one embarked on our own personal journeys
to the place we are happy to be
I know I wouldn’t be me without him
and the passion he brought to our fight
now as his light goes out
to be replaced by a dancing star
we should take a moment to reflect
on how we can best respect
the man who endured ugly headlines
so we could see rainbows as symbols
of a land without shadows

© Gayle Smith 2020

Cabin Fever

In my latest poem I look at the current pandemic and the focus on self isolating and what the government are referring to as social distancing and why I like many poets and other creatives am finding the situation very challenging with regards to my emotional well being. I’ve given it the title Cabin Fever I hope you enjoy the read.

Cabin Fever

Not wanting to take any risks
I stay at home
through caution rather than choice
friends suggest topics to let my poetry flow
as naturally as it can in these strange times
some work well others not so much
I haven’t been to church since this kicked off
yet I’m quietly content
yes I know it’s ridiculous giving up church for lent
but that’s just the way it goes
and I’ll say no prayers for Boris
only for those his policies place in danger
meanwhile I develop cabin fever
as containment means the ultimate form of exclusion
and removal from the civilised world arrives
as we keep a social distance from reality

© Gayle Smith 2020

Seat In The Stein

In this poem I reflect on my recent visit to Celtic Park (my first in too many years) for the game against Kilmarnock and how it felt to be safe among the family in the place that we call paradise. (See Picture Above) I’ve given it the title Seat In The Stein and my thanks go to Paddy Callaghan for suggesting a title which I think sums up the spirit of the day and what it meant to me. I hope you enjoy the read

(To our support there really is no place like home and the place that we call paradise)

Seat In The Stein

It was the Sunday
I did the bible reading at church
that I got a ticket to paradise
for the game against Kilmarnock
it felt great to be back on familiar
streets
I could sense the atmosphere building
even though I arrived early
in plenty of time to take my seat
along with the friend who’d got the briefs
through attending the Celtic Foundation
this was a big day for me
it was great to see friendly faces
and knowing smiles
as I made my way to the stadium
only stopping to buy a scarf from a vendor
before climbing up what seemed like endless steps
till I eventually reached my seat in the Stein
and it imeadiately felt like home
I was where I belonged
and before you knew it
I was belting out the songs
the same as I had always done
at every game for years
as kick off drew near
Glen Daly’s tones blasted through the tannoy
and we sang the Celtic song in full voice
ready for a testing 90 minutes
we were under no illusions
Killie would test us to the limit
a decent side they were playing
for a lot more than pride
a top six place still the aim
of a club who want much more than
paper roses
they started well against a team used to winning treble the trophies of others
and as we were about to discover
they don’t miss chances when they get them
scoring from a very early penelty
we should never have conceded
this was just the start we needed
and I don’t think I mused to myself
clutching my new pink and green scarf
with prayer like devotion
hoping we would waken up
before they had the chance to score again
slowly but steadily we forced our way
back in to the game
McGregor outstanding in the absence of Scott
we pushed our way forward
in search of an equaliser
and forgetting he was a defender
big Ajar did an impressive impression of a forward
to bring us level
Celtic being Celtic we continued
to attack
and it was wasn’t long till Eddy
put us in front
despite more chances I was happy
to be 2-1 up at the break
though there was no room for complancey or mistakes
and I’m sure Neil would have told them this at the interval
without being overly critical
communicating the message in a way good managers can
as the second half started
we stuck to the plan
and when Killie had a man see red
for a needless and careless tackle
it was only a matter of time
before we sealed the game
with the clincher
sure enough Griff obliged from inside the box
now with a two goal cushion
we pushed on for more
but despite our cheers and roars
till voices were hoarse
there were no more goals to be had
against a plucky side who defended well
and did their best to make a game of it
as I made my way to the exit
I reflected on what it means to be Celtic
we take the highs and lows we get
throughout the season
dealing with them in the only way we know
in the honourable traditions of our club
as we have through the ages
when McGrory, Jinky, and Tommy Burns
claimed centre stage in our colours
now it’s Calum, Broony, and Eddy
who’ve discovered what it’s like
to take the field in our name
as gain their status as icons
and make our stadium
a place that we call paradise
a place I will always call home

© Gayle Smith 2020