STANTON Peter 1941-2017 his poems
PETER STANTON’S poems emotional and funny
It has been quite an emotional and reflective few months, both the with birth of Gaius, and the deaths of both my Uncle Peter and my friend Alex’s dad, Big Eck.
In going through Peter’s facebook page, I found a poem he wrote of his own reflections on life, and death.
Love is a feeling of joy in our minds
a time for expressing, a warmth that’s inside.
the desire to hold, to love, and to touch
to kiss and to comfort, ever so much.
to give of yourself, whatever it takes
to please and to pleasure, for that is our fate
the feeling of closeness, the ultimate act
the joining together, and never look back.
to form a friendship, two pepole in love
two into one, like a hand in a glove
to share any heartbreaks, this union will bring
life is just starting, with the exchanging of rings.
life will be varied with the ups and the downs
like the coming of children, the jewel in the Crown.
Seeing them growing and the pleasure you feel
it’s not been a dream, the whole thing is real.
All through their childhood, and watching them grow
giving a joy only parents can know
giving them comfort when illness is near
making them happy, while shedding a tear.
As life races on and the kids have all flown
you’ll now start to wonder where life has gone
Your man’s with his mates, down in the boozer
Your having a waltz, with your friend Mr Hoover.
It may seem forever, but life’s really short
soon one will be leaving but never forgot
It’s too late to start over there’s not enough time.
Just been handed a sentence, never committed a crime.
A little look at life – by
Peter Stanton
————
GINA DICKSON
Well GINA my girl, I know just how you feel
we live in a world, that for us is not real.
The thoughts never leave you, you cry on your own
in a house that feels empty, and don’t feel like a home.
There’s a part of you missing, and will never be found
and you keep an apperance, that everythings sound.
But it’s just for your friends, and family of course
we’re needing some loving, but can’t find the source.
We can hope for a miracle. or a song they would sing
a mobile to heaven, so we can give them a ring.
Just a comforting word, that their doing just fine,
that you still really love them, and will join them in time.
So what can we do, with the life we have left
we have tried really hard, to deal with their death
we can’t go on forever, with this pain and this sorrow
if only we could, change our lives from tomorrow.
…….do you think we should give it a try.?…….
Mary Sutherland Stanton with her boys 1972
I had a walk about Niddrie, never recognised a thing.
The place has changed, what a shame, this has to be a sin.
To think that I was born here, grew up and went to school.
Met awe ma pal’s, learned to swear, and always played the fool.
Lady Wauchope was my play ground, or fitba’ up the park
Kick-the-can oot in the street, until it awe got dark
The bairns didna’e bother, ye’ were never in the hoose.
You’d be jumping on yer guider, or yer gird and running loose.
When you got a wee bit older, the games would simply change,
ye had tae watch, the kissy catch, and no bring yer mother shame!
You dirty little bugger, you should nae be doing that,
I’m telling yer faither when he gets hame! The belt you little brat!
You’ll start the neighbours talking, what will they think of us
running aboot, kissing girls, it will be read oot in the Church!
I’ll no bring the family any shame, so to the pictures we would go.
You could have a kiss and cuddle when the lights are turned down low.
The Gaff it was my favourite place, with films that made you laugh,
it took you to a different world, did The County, or The Gaff.
Left the school, stopped playing the fool, you get oot an’ get a job.
The Auld Wife didna’e muck aboot, you’ll no be eating here ya slob!
So I worked for years, and paid ma’ share, made friends and got in fights.
Met a lass, fell in love, she said Yes, and became my wife.
When I was walking I was thinking, and the past came rushing back
we were really poor, but rich in love, ma’ brothers, ma’ ma, and da.
Life moves on, and all things die, you lose some family and your wife.
Old Niddrie’s gone, where I was born, and most o’ the friends I met in life.
My sons will now carry on our name, and I know they will do us proud.
Just a humble family from Niddrie Mains, we’ll be watching from the clouds
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,STANTON’S NOT FOREVER,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,PITY,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
The Wauchope Estate where the boys would roam free, play in the woods and play football
There is a place in Mortonhall, where I often can be found
just standing by my brother’s grave, on this piece of hallowed ground.
To most it’s just a cemetery with flowers and polished stones
to folks who have family here, this is their final home.
It’s the last link with my brother, I can remember thinking why
as the cord slipped through my finger’s, I tried my hardest not to cry.
It’s six years now, since that darkest day, many tears have flowed that’s true,
if the Lord above had made more time life would have changed for you.
A little boy would bring this change, that’s just what children do
but fate stepped in, and struck a blow, so sadly not for you.
It would have been a wonderful thing and made you feel so glad
to hear this young boy say to you. and how are you ” GRANDAD”.
For KATHY, DAVE, and ANGIE, and for little LEON too
there’s now a place no one can fill, there was only ONE of you.
RIP Brother
Stantons
MAGGIE STANTON
They say that given time it heals
and I’ve been hoping that it’s true,
but up till now there’s been no sign
since the day that I lost you.
As the years go past I wander back
to our memories, stored in time,
when we were young, and so in love
in a time when life was fine.
I really loved you Maggie
in our life of ups and downs, but
I would not change a single thing
as a Wife, and Mum, just sound.
I have spoke to you so many times
but the nights can lonely be –
with just four walls and only me for company –
there’s just no comfort here for me!!
So forgive me if I’m selfish
and put the mourning now to rest,
no matter what, the future holds
I’ve already, had the best.
………..loved….you…maggie…………
Margaret Williamson Beveridge or Maggie Stanton 1943-2011
A few months after Maggie died.
JUST A BOX OF ASHES OF LIFE
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
I had this funny feeling like I woke up from a dream.
My eyes just wandered over where Maggie would have been.
Behind stands tall her ashes, with a dove upon the box.
50 year’s of loving, deep inside, but does not talk.
The dove’s in flight, wing’s outspread, like arm’s open wide,
it beckon’s me to move up close, I would indeed with pride.
Is it just delayed depression, or maybe finding hard to take,
should I lift the box real gentle, and give a little shake.
What do you say to ashes, when you know it’s just not true,
but in this box a symbol of one who did love you.
I want to lift and hold it, I don’t really have a choice,
for deep inside, I’d love to hear, once more for me her voice.
If it ever happened, I wonder what she’d say
Go’on, gie’s a fag – never had a drag – since that awful day.
That part of our life is over, just dont you pine away
the box has only ashes, and in here I have to stay.
There is no way of coming back, I know that you would try.
This journey has just one way, how sad it is to die!
Although we’ll never meet again, I’m thankful for your life,
if not for you, I would not have, my sons to whom you gave life.
If ye ever figure it oot
send up a wee cloud o’ Ash )
I’ll be watching.
Peter Stanton 2012
There is a place, on Milton Road
with stones of different shapes.
If you’re passing bye have a look,
just inside, those iron gates.
A place where hearts are broken
where many tears are often shed.
A place we stand in silence
and few words, are often said.
We will turn up here, for many years
just kneel, and simply stare,
and remember that, through thier life
was a love, that we all shared.
No matter who is buried there
we just can’t escape the pain.
Grief – respect’s no gender,
and does not deal in names!
No one is immune from death
and we just blank it from our minds.
But some day it will happen,
so please, try to make the time.
Peter with his brother Davie who died prematurely age 48 in 1997. The last poem was written for him. Sadly they now share the same plot in Milton Road Cemetery.
Peter Stanton 2008-1972 – Peter’s dad
………..JUST. A. MEMORY…..11…11…ANY ..YEAR…………
How humbling, just to watch them, marching filled with pride.
Remembering fellow brothers who died while at their side.
Burned into their memories but still as plain as day,
trying to give them comfort, as their lives just slipped away.
It must have been, so very hard, to leave them lying there
no time, to cry or say goodbye, death was everywhere!
The carnage and the butchery, by the bullets and the bombs,
just what the Hell are we doing here, killing must be wrong!
The boy in front was saying. as we are going over the top
how sad his dad and mother were, he’ll not be in the shop.
Fear kicks in, as the whistle blows. it’s up into the unknown
it’s no straight run, full of holes, can,t see where you’re going.
It feels you’ve run about 2 miles, in truth it’s only yards,
the body parts are everywhere over all of that barbed wire!
Run my boy, you can’t lay down, I see that awful wound
lean on me, and try to walk, to that hole, that’s in the ground.
It goes from light, then back to dark, lit up by many flares,
a real loud bang, I’m on my back. my friend he was not there.
As I stood up, covered in blood, I wondered how much time?
And as I rubbed it off I realised, none of it was mine!
So as I march past my mind goes back, I also feel ashamed –
for a nice young boy, who ran with me, I never knew his name.
If only we were marching, just two. with heads held high,
but alas, this painful memory, brings the tears, into my eye’s.
……..IF ONLY POLITICIAN’S, WENT TO WAR……….
…………..WE WOULD NEVER ..HAVE ONE……………
Peter Stanton Burmah 1939-1945 Cameron Highlanders
Michael 1969-2016
………………HE WAS JUST 49…………………….
Written July 18th 2016.
THERE’S NOT A LOT, THAT I CAN SAY
THAT I HAVE NEVER SAID BEFORE
MY YOUNGEST SON, HAS PASSED AWAY
AND LIE’S LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
A SAD AND TROUBLED END TO LIFE
BUT THE CURE WAS IN HIS HANDS
ADDICTION HAS THE POWER TO KILL
AND IT DID, FOR THIS YOUNG MAN.
HE HAD A SKILL, AND TALENT TOO
AND WAS NEVER, REALLY BAD
HE ALWAYS SAID, WHEN I GROW UP
I JUST WANT, TO BE A DAD.
ALAS THIS NEVER, CAME TO PASS
AND LIFE’S ROAD, BECAME A BEND
TO WANDER ROUND, NOT SOUND IN MIND
WHERE YOU EVEN, LOSE YOUR FRIENDS,
IT’S TOO LATE NOW, YES THAT’S TRUE
BUT MAYBE, IN THE COURSE OF TIME
IF WE JUST TRY, A LITTLE HARDER
WE MIGHT SAVE , A SON LIKE MINE!
…..MAY THE REST, OF YOUR JOURNEY…
……………….BE PAIN FREE………………..
…………………RIP MICK……………………….
Nephew Scott 1965-2015
on a road, that has no signs
no one knows how near or far
but it wont be hard to find.
You will meet so many other folk
who will join on your way
just like you they tried so hard
but in death, you have no say.
I hope you find, now you’re at peace
and free of that wretched pain
as you travel on this final road
that some day, we’ll meet again.
………………..P….S…………………
If you bump into your Uncles
or your Auntie Maggie, God forbid!
tell her I’m old and decrepit
and I’m bauld, and wear a wig.
……..LOVED YOU SON………………
Well skin. That’s the first time I’ve Seen you lying doon Sober. I told y’er old man that I was speaking tae a doctor that helped a big guy w’ae the same problem.
And he’s goat a couple oh spare bolts. Jist nod if you want me t’ae post them Doon.
Would like to thank ma’ wee brother Denis and Helen for a nice night with Kathy Stanton, and Josie, and that guy Jesus – him that turns the water into wine.
He couldna’e make it fast enough!
Great laugh about auld times.
Talking about Jamie & Tatie’s wedding.
The’ve hud tae gie’ the Queen a knock back, but we are going.
(thanks to Dean Martin who said he couldna’e make it – he’d snuffed it.)
Till the next time brother.
Peter’s comment to this one posted by nephew Jack Merchant
Ah think that the Old Rugged Cross might be open!
…..Christmas…in…aleppo…..
I won’t see Santa Clause this year
He’ll be missing from the sky
For he cannot bring the reindeer
they are not allowed to fly.
I have wrote a special letter
for I’ve been, feeling very sad
For just outside across the road
Lies my mother, and my dad.
I have to hide during the day
For I’ve only turned eight you see
I cry a lot and shout their names,
but they never answer me.
I crawl across when it gets dark
and just hold her close in silence
I wish the note that I had wrote
could have brought an end to violence!
So for all the kids just like me
in this God-forsaken place,
the presents that they are sending
take the smiles from off our face.
……..will..we see…next…XMAS….?.
……….JAMES,,,( HAMISH )….PHILP…….
Drinking Buddy
With acknowledgement of Hamish’s Wife
Can you take these little flowers
from my coffin – they were picked –
and place them in my garden
in the place I used to sit.
It will bring me peace and comfort,
and no matter where I roam
with this little bunch of flowers
it will feel like I’m still home.
As time goes by they’ll fade away
just as sure as all things must,
but gently rub them in your hands
and blow up to me the dust.
…….I’LL BE WAITING…………..
IRENE
………IT,S CHRISTMAS TIME……….
It’s Christmas time of joy and good cheer
but for me, it’s a memory, and shedding a tear
as the darkness descends, I look into space
and remember the smiles I saw on your face.
I miss you Mike Yorkston, and often I cry
I look for a reason, dont understand why.
We were so close, like a hand in a glove,
like a couple of youngsters, so much in love.
I know it sounds silly, I talk to the stars
I cannot stop wondering just where you are.
So if ever you’re passing just give me a sign
I loved you Mr Yorkston, you’ll always be mine.
……………………JANETTE…………………………….
When they closed Peter’s workplace – he worked the Bar – Marshall Arms.
R.I.P.
I hope you like my photo, I know it will be my last
as I am ripped apart, thoughts wander back, to a very happy past,
to all of my old customers, who are sadly now no more!
It seems that I must follow with the closing of the doors.
It was a pub for coalmen – a hardy drunken bunch
they ate no food, the beer was good, with spirits for a lunch.
They kept the home fires burning, well in Niddrie and Craigmillar
from their Jockie Bags, well half empty ones could have been much fuller.
When I think back, and remember names, it fills me up with pride
to have played a part, and been a home, in which they could confide.
Remember Tiger Lyons, Neilly Johnston, and the cat
Wee Scobie, and Big Freddie, Jimmy Carrol, and Billy Glass.
Louie Douglas, and Shug Buchan, Malky Nolan, and Charlie too,
they sold the coal, to fill a hole, for a pint, well more than two!
We had Jenny and the Bar Staff, Old Pedro, Monty, and Peggy
who would keep an eye, and put ye oot, if ye were not standing steady!
I would like to mention everyone, but the list would be to long
I’m shaking now, I can feel my pain, now the roof has gone.
Soon I will just crumble, time to join with all my friends
all the suffering nearly over, as my use comes to an end!
,,,,,,,,,,,THANK,,,,YOU,,,ALL,,, FOR,,, YOUR,,,COMPANY,,,.
IT’S VERY SAD, TO LOSE A FRIEND
THEY ARE REALLY, HARD TO FIND
SMALL, PETITE, FLORENCE SCOTT
SHE WAS LOVING, MAD, BUT KIND, .
WE GOT ON FINE, CAUSE IM THE SAME
WITH A FRIENDSHIP, LIKE NO OTHER
SEPERATE ROOMS, IN THE ROYAL ED
I JUST FOUND ANOTHER MOTHER.
IM TRYING HARD, TO STAY COMPOSED
FOR, IT WAS VERY HARD TO TAKE
TO FIND HER LYING, LIFELESS
AND MY FRIEND, WE COULD NOT WAKE
I WILL TRULY, MISS HER LAUGHTER
AND A WARMTH, THAT WAS WITHIN
SHE REALLY HAD, A HEART OF GOLD
AND WOULD GIVE, YOU ANY THING
SOON WE WILL HAVE, TO SAY GOODBYE
FOR SHE MUST JOURNEY, ON HER OWN
LEAVE US ALL, FAMILY, AND FRIENDS
ON THE ROAD, TO HER NEW HOME.
………….GOODBYE…….
……………………Mrs SCOTT……………..
……..1998….2015……..
Today I’ll lose a daughter,
thats what she was to me,
over 16 years of loving
and just purring, on my knee.
How do you say I love you
and I did, with all my heart,
people may not understand
I’m talking about my cat.
It’s tearful as I watch her
just now she’s still alive
I’m also watching, time run out
I take her down at five.
I know I’ll have to hold her
and this will make me weep
how long can I stay composed
as they put her down to sleep.
..WHO SAID MEN DONT CRY..
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,dont be cross,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Oh holy murray player devine
skelp that baw , across.the line
and if it lands, own this side
you’ll hear us awe, filled with pride
doon on our knee’s tae kiss yer racket
who give’s a toss, ye’ll make a packet
our but and bends, back on the map
with heads held high, the scots are back.
like the big man, you’ll be held up high
but no on a pole, pointing up the sky
deep in our heart’s for determanation
just a band of brothers, a scottish nation.
…………..YAHOO THE NOO……………….
Don’t give up the writing,
for now is not the time
it’s also, more exciting
for you can make it rhyme.
A really caring person
with this heart of gold,
not one in a million
just one in the mould.
So if you feel a little sad
let me plant this little seed
keep the words and love you have
for the people, most in need.
Just listen Heather Turner
keep your tears until the end
we wont just lose the poetry
we will also lose a friend.
…..
MAGGIE McVIE
As I look upon this photo of a lady small and stunning
with the face just like a Goddess and a beauty so becoming.
with a smile, to charm the heavens, and hair that shine’s like gold
she has this gift, and soulful eyes, a gaze and you just fold.
As she poses in this gorgous dress, three heart’s just draw your eye
you just cant stop from loving her, a gift from way up high
as she stands there in such splendor, regal, and with pride
the thing that we, just cannot see, is the loving heart inside.
////////////////////PRICELESS////////////////.
nice photo and it is you.
Went into Mount Vernon, nearly took a fit,
saw this hand come oot this hole I jumped oot ma’ bloody shirt,
For a grown man, ah’ pissed ma self, turned (white) right at the hole,
fell tae’ ma’ knee’s, and crossed ma self, this wonder I behold.
A miracle, and a Bleesing, I’ve been chosen, I’m the one,
the Lord has sent a message has he sent another son?
Maybe just like Moses, he has work for me to do
to go out and preach the Bible, with diSciples fresh and new.
As I looked up to the heavens, nothing could be sweeter
to be mentioned in the Bible as the Second Saint called Peter.
As I gaithered up my new found pride, and a glow within my soul
this head popped up and said to me, get me oot this f…n hole.
A little boy had fallen in, well at least, thats what I thought
he was swearing loud, oh my God, I thought he’d lost the plot
“what are you doing down the hole, you could be there all night”
“a went in for ma wee sister, she had nae paper for a shite.”
F…. THIS CATHOLIC LARK, AH WANT TAE BE A PRODI.
