Popular Posts


Wednesday, 22 April 2015

All That Nature has Created, for me.

I am just a lonesome traveller,
living in this world of man’s sin.
Seen bad, good, the ugly;

where does it all begin?

I’ve been taken advantage of,
been lied to, and been broke.
had pockets full of tin.

Been cheated on, dog hungry, stuffed full,
been left in a ditch,
my hat caved in.

Only Nature and I,
know the Places I’ve bin.

My name ,
it’s been dragged through mud ,
and more.

I’ve been through the school, of “Hard Knocks“
more than once, more than twice.

Every time, I just pick myself up,
dust myself off,
and start all over again.

Nature created, I am not self-made,
father gave life, mother carried me.
Who I am, society shaped. 

I’ve been around a a goodly while,
Come a long way;
still have a long way to go.

Should I live ten thousand years,
I never will meet, I never will see,
all that nature has created, for me.
~~Al (Alex-Alexander) D Girvan.

Tuesday, 3 March 2015

There Will be Peace on This Earth for you and me, Dear Nature I Pray

Oh well, I'm tired and so weary but I must show strong
Till dear Nature comes and calls, calls me away, oh yes
Well the morning's so bright and the lamp is the light
And the night, night is as black as the sea, oh yes

There will be peace in the valley, politics gone to stay
There will be peace in the valley, to my creator, I do pray 
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow, no trouble, trouble can’t you see.
There will be peace in the valley for you and me

Well the bear will be gentle and the wolf will be tame
And the lion shall lay down by the lamb, oh yes
And the terrorist, irrationals of the world should be led by a mere child
That we may be changed, changed from the savages that we are, oh yes

There will be peace in the valley for all someday
There will be peace on this earth for you and me, dear Nature I pray 

There'll be no sadness, no sorrow and no trouble, trouble you will see
When all politiccal issues are gone from the world, of you and me.© Al (Alex-Alexander) D. Girvan. All rights reserved.

Thursday, 15 January 2015

Life, Al (Alex-Alexander) D Girvan

Nature gives us the privilege to look, to see;
then, the responsibility to move on.
 though, parents, past generations are easily forgotten
it is not a dagger soaked with blood.
not for hostility or revenge;
not about religion- man’s image of a God.
 The big deal event;
not to be driven by greed, war, or strife.
it can be harsh some find it brutal;
just too easy to take the wrong path.
I have my ghosts; you will have yours;
the heart has its own memory.
Come into it with nothing, leave with nothing.
Nature says you can never be alone.
Love what you have been given,
if it is just for a little while;
That is life.
© Al (Alex-Alexander) D Girvan. All rights reserved

Wednesday, 31 December 2014

My Serenity Prayer

My Serenity Prayer
For every ailment under the sun,
there is a remedy, or there is none.
If there be one, try to find it;
if there be none, never mind it.
If there is a remedy, when trouble strikes,
what reason is there for dejection?
And, if there is no help for it;
what use is there in being glum?
 May Nature, the Creator, give to us:
Courage- to change what must be altered.
Insight- to know the one from the other.
Serenity- to accept what cannot be helped.
Strength- to accept all hardships as the pathway to peace;
to take, as is Nature’s plan, this sinful world;
as it is; not as I would have it.

Wisdom-to live one day at a time; enjoy one moment at a time.
Trust-that Nature will make all things right;
if I only surrender to the Creator’s Will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life;
and, supremely happy as is Natures wish;
forever, and ever, in the next.
©Al (Alex-Alexander) D. Girvan. All rights reserved.

Whatever Became of Laurentia?

Across the ocean in Avalonia, Did you ever wonder how the world shakes?
Go find a map of merry old Scotland.

Okay, now then you have a good look.
Glasgow is not quite in the Scottish Highland,
Another question; was it close enough, for some giant snakes?

North of Glasgow is a rugged, once hostile region, the Highland;
for Scotland is at the north end of the—British United Kingdom.
An intriguing feature of geography,
 Inverness and Fort William connected by a straight line; in Nature’s Kingdom;
along this line lies Loch Ness, the second largest most famous lake in Scotland.

Loch Ness highly elongated in its shape,
Is a series of valleys, known collectively as-- Great Glen.
Cutting right across Scotland from one coast to the other;
bisecting the craggy highlands rising on either side, rather striking, the Great Glen.
From this true fact there is no escape.

There in the Earth's crust; is a major fault; is one wise to long terry?
It does not stop in Scotland;
the land north-west has slipped northwards, relative to the land south-east.
So as well, the fault runs through Ireland
straight through the bay near Londonderry.

Okay, go even further afield; let us look at north-western Europe.

The mountains of Scotland; though it may seem strange,
that whole big chain running up the back of Norway;
 with a tiny bit of imagination, them, you can view,
continuing across the North Sea.
Scotland and Scandinavia are part of the same mountain range.

Produced during the Caledonian orogeny; an immense range of mountains,
Caledonia is the ancient Roman name for Scotland,
While orogeny is a technical term combining the Greek oros, meaning mountains,
and genus, meaning generation;
 though to you the words they sound strange;
Takes generation to create a new or newfound land.

Generation of the Caledonia and Scandinavia mountains occurred roughly 400 million years ago.

At that time, there was an ocean known as the Iapetus.
 Don't go looking for it on a modern map, because it doesn't exist anymore.
The continents were so different, that we can not, sensibly,
refer to them with names familiar to us, furthermore.
The continent of Laurentia, on one side of the Iapetus.

On the other side were two landmasses known as Baltica and Avalonia.

The movements of plate tectonics slowly- but inevitably,
 caused the shrinkage of the Iapetus Ocean.
Laurentia moved closer to Baltica and Avalonia,
 until the fateful period of history;
 when these continents collided.

In exactly the same way as the collision of India with Asia has more recently produced the crumpling of the Earth's crust that we know as the Himalaya Mountains.

 Baltica and Avalonia were essentially the forerunners of what is now Europe.
 The mountains of the Caledonian orogeny can be seen today, weathered and eroded into less spectacular peaks than the Himalayan heights which they may well have reached shortly after their birth, running down the spine of Scandinavia, across Scotland, and...

What became of Laurentia?

Look west...Look for mountains.
The Appalachian Mountains.

 That enormous range of mountains running diagonally across eastern North America. You can mentally extend them north-east, up through New Brunswick, across the Gulf of St Lawrence, across Newfoundland, and then...
 you are forced to a stop by the Atlantic Ocean.

Or are you…

Imagine the ocean isn't there.
Slide Newfoundland across to nestle next to Ireland.
 Then the Appalachian Mountains can continue;
 right through the Scottish Highlands,
 and on into Norway.

We were looking for Laurentia.
We've found it.

 Laurentia is North America.© Al (Alex-Alexander) D Girvan. All rights reserved.

Monday, 10 November 2014

When the World Began

This one thing all must remember; 
The world began, when I was born.
Though the thought be somewhat sombre;
The world will end,when my pall be borne.
©Al (Alex-Alexander) D. Girvan. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, 21 May 2014

The MostI Important Words Ever Spoken

The most important words ever spoken were,
To thine own self be true
This above all, my love, to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as night the day,
thou canst not then be false to any man.”
If, we do not believe in ourselves—
until someone reveals—
that deep inside us is something valuable—
something worth listening to—
something worthy of our trust—
and sacred to our touch—
this life's a bally battle but, there’s some advice holds true.
If the future's black as thunder, don't let people see you're blue;
If you're up against it badly, then it's only one on you.
Once you begin to truly believe in yourself, as you are—
these are the words you'll be hearing—
“To thine own self be true.”
You will follow their command, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule, or scorn of others, rather than be false and incur your own abhorrence.
If you're feeling pretty groggy, and you're licked beyond a doubt;
Though your face is battered to a pulp, let them know your heart is stout.
Just stand upon your pins until the beggars knock you out.
You, must free yourself from the expectations of others
give yourself  back onto yourself—
there lies the great, singular power of  self-respect. No one can make you feel inferior— without you give consent—
Never give it.
Never think that it may feel good, to join them that's in the parade.
You’ll not be melted— into candle grease--to benefit the tallow trade.
Let them know with every clout, they’ll never see YOU fade.
As we let our OWN light shine—
we, unconsciously== give to others—
permission to do the same
As we are liberated from our fear—
our presence liberates others.
Whatever we have forgotten—
we can remember—
Whatever we have buried—
we can unearth.
If we are willing to look deep; into our own nature, into our own  real (not the common fantasies)heritage. If we—
as lonesome travellers--
are willing to peel away the layers of crap—
the layers we have adopted—
while going through this world of strife.
We will find -- our true respected—
is not so far removed—
as we think.
From the expectations of others, free yourself.
Sink to sleep at midnight, and although you're feeling tough,
Rise up in the morning with the will that, smooth or rough,
As we let our OWN light shine—we'll, give to others--  permission to do so too
You just cultivate a cast-iron smile of joy the whole day through;
They’ll call you "Little Sunshine", wish that THEY'D no troubles, too --
If we, as lonesome travellers, are willing--to peel away the layers of crap—the layers we have adopted—going through this world of strife. We will find -- our true self— is not as far removed—
as we think.  
Of course, I realise this is not really a poem.
 ©Al (Alex-Alexander) D Girvan. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Rotton Row, Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-1895)

I hope I'm fond of much that's good,
As well as much that's gay;
I'd like the country if I could;
I love the Park in May:
And when I ride in Rotten Row,
I wonder why they call'd it so.
A lively scene on turf and road;
The crowd is bravely drest:
The Ladies' Mile has overflow'd,
The chairs are in request:
The nimble air, so soft, so clear,
Can hardly stir a ringlet here.

I'll halt beneath those pleasant trees, -
And drop my bridle-rein,
And, quite alone, indulge at ease
The philosophic vein:
I'll moralise on all I see -
Yes, it was all arranged for me!

Forsooth, and on a livelier spot
The sunbeam never shines.
Fair ladies here can talk and trot
With statesmen and divines:
Could I have chosen, I'd have been
A Duke, a Beauty, or a Dean.

What grooms! What gallant gentlemen!
What well-appointed hacks!
What glory in their pace, and then
What Beauty on their backs!
My Pegasus would never flag
If weighted as my Lady's nag.

But where is now the courtly troop
That once rode laughing by?
I miss the curls of Cantelupe,
The laugh of Lady Di:
They all could laugh from night to morn,
And Time has laugh'd them all to scorn.

I then could frolic in the van
With dukes and dandy earls;
Then I was thought a nice young man
By rather nice young girls!
I've half a mind to join Miss Browne,
And try one canter up and down.

Ah, no - I'll linger here awhile,
And dream of days of yore;
For me bright eyes have lost the smile,
The sunny smile they wore: -
Perhaps they say, what I'll allow,
That I'm not quite so handsome now.

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

On An Old Muff, Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-1895)

TIME has a magic wand!
What is this meets my hand,
Moth-eaten, moldy, and
Covered with fluff?
Faded, and stiff, and scant;
Can it be? No, it can't--
Yes, I declare, it's Aunt
Prudence's muff!
Years ago, twenty-three,
Old Uncle Doubledee
Gave it to Aunty P.
Laughing and teasing:
'Prue of the breezy curls,
Whisper those solemn churls,
What holds a pretty girl's
Hand without squeezing?'
Uncle was then a lad
Gay, but, I grieve to add,
Sinful, if smoking bad
Baccy's a vice;
Glossy was then this mink
Muff, lined with pretty pink
Satin, which maidens think
'Awfully nice.'
I seem to see again
Aunt in her hood and train
Glide, with a sweet disdain,
Gravely to Meeting;
Psalm-book, and kerchief new,
Peeped from the Muff of Prue;
Young men, and pious too,
Giving her greeting.
Sweetly her Sabbath sped
Then; from this Muff, it's said,
Tracts she distributed;
Converts (till Monday!)
Lured by the grace they lacked,
Followed her. One, in fact,
Asked for -- and got -- his tract
Twice of a Sunday!
Love has a potent spell;
Soon this bold ne'er-do-well,
Aunt's too susceptible
Heart undermining,
Slipped, so the scandal runs,
Notes in the pretty nun's
Muff -- triple-cornered ones,
Pink as its lining.
Worse followed: soon the jade
Fled (to oblige her blade!)
Whilst her friends thought they'd
Locked her up tightly,
After such shocking games
Aunt is of wedded dames
Gayest, and now her name's
Mrs. Golightly.
In female conduct, flaw
Sadder I never saw.
Faith still I've in the law
Of compensation.
Once Uncle went astray,
Smoked, joked, and swore away;
Sworn by he's now, by a
Large congregation.
Changed is the Child of Sin;
Now he's (he once was thin)
Grave, with a double chin--
Blessed be his fat form!
Changed is the garb he wore,
Preacher was never more
Prized than is Uncle for
Pulpit or platform.
If all's as best befits
Mortals of slender wits,
Then beg this Muff and its
Fair Owner pardon.
All's for the best, indeed --
Such is my simple creed;
Still I must go and weed
Hard in my garden.

A Word That Makes Us Linger, Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-1895)

(Written in the visitor's book at Gopsall)
KIND hostess mine, who raised the latch
And welcomed me beneath your thatch,
Who makes me here forget the pain,
And all the pleasures of Cockaigne,
Now, pen in hand, and pierced with woe,
I write one word before I go --
A word that dies upon my lips
While thus you kiss your finger-tips.
When Black-eyed Sue was rowed to land
That word she cried, and waved her hand --
Her lily hand!
It seems absurd,

But I can't write that dreadful word.