Category Archives: Historical

The darker the better

Hiding under her blankets
The darker the better
….presses her button to drop the blinds
The darker the better.

The only light comes from the flicker of the horror movie
Where the hellovision screen is her mirror…it makes her feel at home.

Her clothes fit her well;
– Aching uncertainty
– Dark forebodings
– Tender pessimism
The mirror keeps reminding her.

The bottle of emptied Johnny Walker speaks:
“You’ve stopped walking”,
The dropped blind says
“You’ve stopped seeing”,
The mirror confirms:
“This is what you’ve become”.

The arteries have hardened…her heart pumps without a beat.

With the press of a button
The blind can go up
The screen can stop its lies
The heater could fire up.

But in her caged freedom…
She has made her choice.

Her eyes narrow as she focuses harder on the screen…

The darker the better.

 

 

Note: this is a description of a women in her late 20’s who lodged with a friend. This was her life in her room; empty whisky bottles, watching depressing shows on her Netflix account as she curls under her blankets. She was offered help, and a new identity in Christ….but she made her choice. How many more are there like her ?.

Darker the better

Alva Highland Games

The Sun was hot
The sky was blue
The hills were green
Is Alva’s cue,
For highlands games
Set in June
Tartan dancing
Bagpipes tunes.

Men in kilts
Built like tanks
Toss the caber
To cheers & thanks,
Fish and chips
Ice cream, beer
Alva’s time
Once a year.

Moon shaped landscape

 

The moon shines on it name sake landscape
Peaking behind touchable 3D clouds
That move as fast as the Lewis wind.

Northern stars keek at the moon shined terrain
Never moving, stable as the rocks that hold together
A melted snow drenched country.

The rippling loch co-operates with the Atlantic ocean air
And creates a dance in sync with flying geese
Jagged and graceful, separate and together.

The Islands other inhabitants;
Strong people, strong houses, strong fences, able to resist all weather
Fit snugly into where the land permits.

The sun rises on what it promised;
Rugged and tree-less attractive beauty; like the Gaelic language,
Hard to understand but beautiful.

 

We arrived late at night at Tobson, on the Isle of “Greater Bernera” [Gaelic: “Bearnaraigh”], (a Western Island from Isle of Lewis, Outer Hebrides, Scotland) for a break. The moon came and went with the clouds.

“keek” is a Scots word for “look” or “peak”. Scottish Gaelic is the first language. English is the second language.

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Driverless train on the Paris metro

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Driverless train on the Paris metro
How it’s stops I’ll never know,
I’ll just have to trust the engineer
And the technology that made it go,
Going faster up the hill
My heartbeat climbs another notch
Slowing down on the other side
How on Earth does it feather stop ?.

Parisian eggs and bacon for breakfast
Along with a croissant and strawberry jam,
Washes well with Parisian coffee
And the sausage and seasoned ham,
But what happens after the chewing
Is a mystery no one knows,
How the food turns into muscle
And sinew and into blood that flows.

These are mysteries we cannot fathom
But we know they always work,
Because of laws made by the creator
The one who gave His life for His Church,
The laws of science and food are sure
We live our life in their rhythms and rhymes,
So love the mystery and the God who made them
Along with the food and the Parisian ride.

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What is it about a hillbilly song ?

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What is it about a Hillbilly Song ?
That sounds so good to me
What is it about a Hillbilly Song ?
The story’s of life believed
What is it about a Hillbilly Song ?
That touches me within
Can ya please tell me
What is it about a Hillbilly Song ?.

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When I was a boy of twelve
My Grandpa played to me
Little Roy Lewis on the ol’ banjo
I couldn’t believe my ears
He picked & played that ol’ 5 string
Like I never heard before
& when he sang about my Jesus
He opened that hillbilly door.

I remember my childhood on the farm
My family would sing & play
Between the ukulele’s & steel guitars
They had something to say
They recorded “I met the Master”
And “When God dips His pen”
And preached about the love of Jesus
On Radio 2KA.

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Now they call it “country”
Not “Hillbilly” now it seems
They’ve replaced the fiddle & banjo
With tinsel & cellophane dreams
Give me a song sung from the heart
Sung the Hillbilly way
With banjo’s, dobro’s & steel guitars
I wanna hear a hillbilly play !.

Words & music by Peter Hall 20/8/2010. © Scot Free Music

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A true story song. My family would record gospel songs to play in between talking about the gospel on a half hour radio show called “Happy Harmonies” on radio 2KA during the 1960’s and 1970’s.

Singin’ our heads off in Taylor Park again

Singin’ our heads off in Taylor Park again
Singin’ ’bout Jesus as we remember when
How baby Jesus came to be our Saviour
A chance for a new life to begin.

Chorus

“We Three Kings”, ‘n’ “Silent Night”, and “Joy to the World”.
Remind us, we needed Christmas Day
How a Saviour came to us, cos
We couldn’t save ourselves
To give His life, so we could know His grace.

 

Kids with candles and faces all aglow
Shows that tonight is more than just a show
A new generation who needs a Saviour
A heavenly father’s love they need to know.

Bridge

What I sing about is more than Santa
Jingle Bells or Rudolf and his sleigh
But Jesus Christ who is God’s answer
and how God provided us a way,

Last time
Singin’ our heads off in Taylor Park again !.

————————————————–

Key D Capo 2nd Fret
C                                    F        G       C       F G
Singin’ our heads off in Taylor Park again
C                                  F       G             C
Singin’ ’bout Jesus as we remember when
Dm                                              C
How baby Jesus came to be our Saviour
Dm                  F           G    C
A chance for a new life to begin.

 
Chorus

F                                   G                            C              Am
“We Three Kings”, ‘n’ “Silent Night”, and “Joy to the World”.
Dm                   G                           C
Remind us, we needed Christmas Day
F                      G
How a Saviour came to us, cos
C                 C/B      Am
We couldn’t save ourselves
Dm                         G                            C
To give His life, so we could know His grace.

 

Kids with candles & faces all aglow

Shows that tonight is more than just a show

A new generation who needs a saviour

A Heavenly Father’s love they need to know

 

Bridge

Am                                             C
What I sing about is more than Santa
Am                                           C
Jingle Bells or Rudolf and his sleigh
Am                                            C
But Jesus Christ who is God’s answer
       Dm               F              G
and how God provided us a way

 

Last time
C                               F             G     C
Singin’ our heads off in Taylor Park again

 

Found in the archives (an old back up drive !). A Christmas song written for “Carols in the Park” (Taylor Park, Grenfell NSW) in Australia at Christmas 2007. I was the MC for town Carol’s that year and wrote this for a gap in time between items. I have never recorded this one…it was for a time and place.

Words & music copyright by Peter Hall 2007

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Kimberley man

The first sun shines at half past four
The red dirt makes a grass-less floor
This is a life of unique brand
For him they call “the Kimberley man”.

The fans are never cool enough
On leathered skin built Kimberley tough
But how do you tell the tourist fleet
You never get used to Kimberley heat.

But there’s a thinking that takes it slow
In rhythm with Ord River’s flow
There’s more to life than comfort and money
Like fishing for Barra without the hurry.

Albino gekko’s’ eat the flys
While the blue tailed kooka’s laughs and crys
Crocs and dragons and wallabies too
Live with the Owl who gives two hoots.

The Kimberley man is silently proud
Like a Kimberley king with a Kimberley crown
Of views a virtuoso would say
Is fit for a concert that he would play.

Wet season build up is only released
By cracking black clouds that sets you free
From humid sighs in front of the fan
And the unsaid life of the Kimberley man.

Kimberely man

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The smell of Kimberley rain

The daylight owl stops giving advice
From his throne on the Boab tree,
The Kimberley winds crank up a few gears
The Eucalypts mingle the breeze,
And bring a smell unique to Oz
That dulls the homesick pain,
The sound of drops smashing on tin rooves
Bring the smell of Kimberley rain.

The sound of the thunder cracks the sky
And let’s the cooling rain fall,
And everyone’s bare shoulder smiles
At relief from the heat in store,
While the hot red dirt greets an old friend
And the cracking thunder in the main,
Combine to give you a precious gift;
The smell of Kimberley rain.

The ancient land and it red ridge sights
Have seen it all before,
For this is the build up to the summer rains
That opens the wet season door,
The sight of the lightening bisecting the black
Means no two moments are the same
And combines the eyegate and the ears
With the smell of Kimberley rain.

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747 to Dubai

A lady sat next to me
On the 747 to Dubai,
It wasn’t long before I asked God;
“Why, oh why, oh why” !.

All that she could do was
Talk and talk and talk,
All that I wanted to do was
Walk and walk and walk.

She talked louder than the engines
With more revolutions per second,
And to make matters worse
She had a face like a melon.

I found out she loved horses
And loved the Aberdeen races,
The more I heard her talking
I knew horses have nicer faces.

Oh yes…she has 2 other sisters
I saw the photos of their wedding
And the one with the Union Jack
On top of her marital bedding.

Did you know she really loves bagpipes
And got married to the music of Elvis ?
But she forgot to buy the deserts
But at least the guests had their Haggis.

I haven’t told you her job
Or her favourite colour of dress,
Cos I’m exhausted after the flight
I think it’s time for a rest.

So next time you have ‘time out’
And you want to rest as you fly,
Make sure it’s an empty plane
Or book a seat on the aisle !.

 

Every part of this poem is a true story !. (written on a bench at Dubai Airport at 4:00am…I had to laugh and write a poem about it !)

 

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Fish ‘n’ chips

Sometimes, poetry is meant to be heard and not read… (.7 mb. .46 min)

Fish ‘n’ chips on the Clyde
Fish ‘n’ chips on the side
Fish ‘n’ chips with too much salt
Fish ‘n’ chips and watching boats
Fish ‘n’ chips and sunny clouds
Fish ‘n’ chips and funny crowds
Fish ‘n’ chips and ugly dogs
Fish ‘n’ chips without the smog
Fish ‘n’ chips and coffee cold
Fish ‘n’ chips where ice cream sold
Fish ‘n’ chips where joggers sweat
Fish ‘n’ chips on wet park bench
Fish ‘n’ chips where sea gulls swoop
Fish ‘n’ chips where sea gulls poop
Fish ‘n’ chips with nip on the nose
Fish ‘n’ chips with nip on the toes
Fish ‘n’ chips is rubbish food, but
Fish ‘n’ chips taste so good
Fish ‘n’ chips and mountain sides
Fish ‘n’ chips on the Clyde !.

Get the picture ?

 

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