Ian Steven

Another Perthshire Writer

| home | programme | projects | newsletters | writers | links | contact |

ian steven

Perthshire Writers' members are a good mixture, ranging from published authors; ones working towards that goal; others with little experience and some writing purely for pleasure. So, if you need any help or guidance, someone will be able to help you.

I've been a member since 1990 and still enjoy hearing the wide range of talented writing they produce. Although I've had some of my work published, I class myself as an enthusiastic amateur.

Fareweel Tae Perth

It's sic a great pity
Yer leavin' the city
An' movin' tae wee Gardenstoon.
Whit a contrast ye'll find
Frae the hoose left behind
In yer first move awa' frae the toon.

Keek oot fur the rabbits
Wha's multiplyin' habits
Will skail yer land bare as the moon.
An' the road tae the pier
Is a steep yin ye'll fear
As it zig-zags its wey roon an' roon.


In the winter the storms
Aff the sea aer the norm
An' a bitin' cauld wind flees aroon'.
It's hard tae get oot
Tae the shops roon aboot
As ye'll soon realise ya daft loon.

It'll no be the same
At yer new country hame
Ach, I've nae doot ye'll soon settle doon.
But maybe ye winnie
Like many an' many
Ye'll wish ye were back in the toon.

Growing Old

Something is happening to me I don't know
What's going on but the symptoms just grow
I lay out clean clothes before taking a shower
And put on the washing which will take just an hour
But when drying myself no clothes can be seen
Till I find that they're now in the washing machine.
I open the fridge to take a cold beer
But how did my mobile phone get in here?
Then into the oven and what do I see
It's the cold ham I purchased for yesterday's tea.
And once at a party a guest leaned and said
'Do you know one sock's yellow, the other is red?'
After going upstairs to the bedroom I pause
Now why did I come here, was it because
I thought it was time for my beddie-byes
Although I can see the sun starting to rise?
I go to the theatre to see a good play
Only to find that I've gone the wrong day
And on the way home I meet an old friend
But what is his name, I'm bound to offend
If I take a guess and say the wrong one
So I make an excuse and say 'Sorry, must run.'
Then at my front door I can't find my key
For the third time this week, as the neighbours can see.
It seems my condition gets gradually worse
Perhaps I should even confide in the nurse
With my problem in ending this sad tale of mine

You see - I've forgotten the very last line.