Stirling poem


On the day of the election just as I was drifting off to sleep, I started getting lines about Stirling forming in my thoughts, so I wrote them in my phone. Here they are:

Historic Stirling, jewel in Scotland’s crown
Beloved Stirling, jewel of my heart
Nature raised the towers of your hills
Us creatures raised those of your city

To look into the past I pass
Beneath the shadow of your rock
The sky above your castle hangs
In a dropped glimpse of the future

You created me in your university
Raised in fortune, trained in adversity
Within your nurturing and your damnation,
Stirling, you made me my own creation

My eyes were beyond your hills
And my paths away from you
But your memory is on me still
Our history draws me back to you

Even when I longed for escape
From the sameness of your plain
Somehow I always knew
First love, first hate, first act of will

Is more than sacred, worth more than life
The sweetest joy of that first thrill
My Stirling, cannot come again
And that beauty draws my heart to you

Forever flames my gratitude, for always binds me still to you.

Delighted that Stirling came good this time and is no longer Tory!

Published by Slutocrat

Slutocrat (n). One who supports slutocracy. Slutocracy (n). 1. A government comprised of sluts. 2. A democracy in which family and sexual freedoms are protected by the State. I have a writing addiction and occasionally manage to get paid for it.

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