Poetry by Jim Doolan

pixabay fairy

O to see again

Across the fields and meadows,

I cast a cautious eye,

Perchance to catch a fleeting glimpse

Of fairies, O so shy.

For many years I’ve watched forlorn,

To catch a further view

Of what I saw one Summer’s morn

Upon the sun-kissed dew.


Their wings were as gossamer,

Their form so dainty fair;

I noted that their greatest gift

Was lovely soft-blown hair;

It fell down sleekly from their heads

Caressing slender spines,

The gentle breeze made tresses flow

In trailing, wistful lines.


They floated just above the ground

And sweetly sang a song

With lilting tune and wondrous words

That dared me sing along.

Their smiles were glowing; soft and warm,

Their faces so serene

I long again to catch a sight

Of that endearing scene.


But, perhaps I am now past the age

When fairies, I can see;

Yet from the look on my child’s face,

I know they’re here with me


The rescue


It wis a dreich nicht

Thone time Jamie wis saved

he wis lucky

tae hiv bin taen awa

fae a gey sair place.

It wis chuckin doon hailstones

lik pellets fae an airgun

yon fatefu nicht.


Noo, he’s nae mind

O hoo he gote intae

yon pickle.

It wis jest lik

oanie ither nicht

when Jamie McSonnachan

stertit oot;

bit hoo oor Jamie

endit hauf naikit

up a mountain

is fair baffling tae me

an mair besides.

The last thing Lamie mindit

wis huvin a few haufs

oot a boatle o whisky

in his wee hoose

in Barmulloch,

It’s telt he foned his faither

an sed he wis hauf wey

up a hill

jest north o Arran.

He’s nae mind o fonin

aebdy yon nicht

an it’s telt he wis babbling

a load o keek.


Sumhoo or ither

he wis locatit

an taen tae hoaspital

yon dey Jamie wis rescued.

( 14/04/2016)


Teacher, teacher

Teacher, teacher please help me

My life seems in a mess,

My Arithmetic is hopeless,

My English even less.


My History is very poor,

My Maths is even worse

My Geography is not mapped out

And Civics makes me curse.


My drawing is not well defined

And Physics, it lacks drive.

Teacher, teacher please help me,

‘cause I am only five.



Jim Doolan.

Corona Virus Stew – poem by Leela Soma
National Poetry Day 2019 – Glasgow Poets

This section: Poetry

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Avatar of PatByrne Publisher of Pat's Guide to Glasgow West End; the community guide to the West End of Glasgow. Fiction and non-fiction writer.

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