Tear Of Stone
They ran over the heather
honey stuck to their feet
'' hey watch my lazy beds''
was a real Island greet
A Blackhouse at Kilmory
lived Murdo and his wife
not what you'd call luxury
but it was a good life
O it was a good life
they all worked the land
it rained a lot but...
the sunshine was grand
Rebeca came first
and then there was John
after a five year gap
Christina's glory shone
Murdo was next
namesake of his Dad
and young William
was a sweet little lad
Archibald - Duncan
was but a babe in arms
Blackhouse life wasn't for him
nor sweet highland charms
they all came together
at the end of the day
to read the 'Good Book'
and to gather in the hay
they all came together
at the end of the day''
in a sweet little grave yard
at Kilmory Bay
they were always together
they were never alone
now they're interred together
under one 'tear of stone'
three days in September
that broke Murdo's heart
now bound for New Zealand
to make a fresh start
Murdo was a Shepherd
always did as God wills
but his heart longs for Rum
where the sun flecks the hills
He awaits the Great Shepherd
and longs for the shout
when the graves are unlocked
''hey Kids, come on out''
with his arm around Murdo
his Kids run down the glen
He say's ''dont worry Murdo
they wont die again''!
Murdo Matheson was the local Shepherd in Kilmory on the Isle of Rum from 1855 to 1875.Between 7th and 9th of September 1873 the Mathesons lost five children to Diphtheria. Broken by grief they sold up and emigrated to New Zealand where their descendants can still be found today.
A Day at Rhenigadal
Behold sweet silence
the hush of nature
six new age warriors
lose the will to fight
leave them at peace
in their harled whitewashed armour
a welcome refuge
against the tyranny of the night
a stroll up Todun
with views newly varnished
stone washed colours
at the brink of morning
Loch Trolamaraig
completely untarnished
a traditional harbor
the dawn is still yawning
isolated in vast sweeps
of 'beauty and bland'
where the surges crash
and the waves are curled
more people I'm sure will
grasp nature's old hand
now you're connected
to the outside world.
Memoirs of first holiday abroad
2:00 pm - apprehensive.
4:00 pm - hassle at airports, irritating.
5:00 pm - delays at airports, exasperating.
10:00 pm - transfers: chaotic,bewildering.
10:15 pm - exacerbated by tiredness.
10:30 pm - process of imploding begins.
12:20 am - sustaining a sprained wrist.
12:30 am - cut head open on bus, not impressed.
12:40 am - surprise attack of Hay Fever, adds insult to injury.
12:50 am - yet more delays, confusing beyond belief.
1:00 am - announcement: there are to be no more Holidays abroad. We are only going to the
Motherland.
1:15 am - finally access Hotel apartment.
1:30 am - statement released ''I've slept in better Bothy's ''.
1:30 am - limit of tolerance reached.
1:30 to 8:30 am - a good night's sleep, rejuvenating.
8:30 am - delays and hassle at Airports, insignificant past memory
head split open, on the mend
Hay Fever, subdued.
Hotel apartment, maybe I haven't slept in better Bothy's
9:00 am - Mediterranean vibe, nice
- whitewashed walls and pavements, clean and fresh
- strong sunshine, heart lifting
- sea breeze, soothing
- dazzling blue skies, appealing
9:00 am - we walk hand in hand down for breakfast and all was well with the world.
Nursery Crime
Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall
when King John lost his crown in the wash
John wasn't going to stick to the charter
thought it to be a complete load of tosh!
all the King's horses and all the King's men
couldn't put Henry's head together again
they would find him walking in long dewy grass
and couldn't convince him he wasn't made of glass
old Charles 2 was a merry old soul
and a merry old soul was he
transportation if you lost your prayer book
hide and seek winner up an old oak tree
-------------------------------------------------
Jack and Jill went up the hill
to look for some WMD's
the world should have seen us
with a cache of vacuum cleaners
and Jack's crown fell down to his knees
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner
and pulled out twenty million quid
they didn't complain at all
when there was a blatant 'hand ball'
but really it would have been better if they did
the Magna Carter was a complete set of rules
with an ever changing 'ship of fools'
the old dog laughed to see such fun
because there's nothing new under the sun!
Unanchored
rest your weary aching limbs
put your feet up on the chair
thoughts release from deep within you
motionless as if on air
making sense of what it means
floating gold in rivers deep
drifting endless calming streams
smooth the belay into sleep.
On Leaving Knoydart
Old Mother Time, please forget Knoydart
we like her just the way she is. . .
the mist loomed low over the Old Forge Inn
many memorable nights spent therein
Larven will always wink at Barrisdale bay
mussels will always last forever and a day
no multi-million pound takeovers
or tacky Travel Lodge makeovers
sleeping village, the land time forgot
please Mother Time remember her not
Sgurr nan Connichean towers above Inverie
it's hard to leave when you've just been set free
golden mornings under metallic blue skies
posing for photos with tears in our eyes
Glaschoille now, a speck on blue and green
Knoydart's wilderness wont lose it's sheen
sublimely unconnected from the outside world
time's spindle turns slowly
as your memories are unfurled
please forget Knoydart Old Mother Time...
we like her just the way she is.
Minutiae
as the stone skimmed across a tempest of waves
it created wave after wave in it's own right
alive with fervent energy as it hopped across time's ocean
droplets like half forgotten memories sprayed into the air
then the stone dropped to the placid depths of the fathomless sea.
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delicate brush marks
entrance the paradise Hiker
in search of the dream
he knows he wont find
he can't cease from roaming
he feels like 'Boy Wonder'
in billowed cloud memories
with gold lace entwined
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the Islands shimmering light
cast it's golden halo
on the dimming day
inoffensive breeze laps your face
wind plays 'tig' in the machair
a fleet of wispy vermilion clouds
drift over the horizon
detached...
from the sleeping lion sunset.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
was it a dream?
was it real?
something in the darkness
illuminated our hearts
something in the darkness
held our hands
something in the darkness
was enchanting.
we walked home
in the darkness
on a 'Wizard of Oz' Island
on an Emerald night.
The Crask Inn ( in winter)
on the north coast of Scotland
where beauty meets bland
there's a lonely old farm
with an Inn close at hand
a real period piece
under a Holst of stars
no light pollution,
street lamps or
the passing of cars
in the middle of nowhere
there's no beauty like bland
a modern life oasis
attestation at hand
the most pleasant of hosts
you could ever wish to meet
in our own 'ivory tower'
they had the front seat
from the airy sublimity
of a Sutherland morning
to being almost benighted
with no prior warning
we resembled a couple of
over burdened snails
only soon to console
ourselves in fine real ales
as the North wind slowly
crept up the Beaufort scale
we slept in the Bunkhouse
and lived to tell the tale
hospitality penchant
at the end of December
our hosts Mike and Kai
we will always remember.
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| It is not advisable to play the organ when a darts match is in progress! |
Curtains of mist
curtains of mist
swirling in slowly
lacking in gusto
strengthen in stealth
green are the hills
brooding the ambiance
wild the atmosphere
grim is the day
curtains of mist
dancing mournfully
increasing gravity
strengthening wind
light in the sky
break in the white
long lines of mist
and anger and might
mist clings to peaks
dare not let go
brittle blue skies
and a vengeful sun.
Lines
mesmerizing roll of the waves
perfect lines
boisterous sea kicks up it's mire
parallel lines
exploding surf on a table of sand
broken lines
rock and sky and earth and land
sand.
The Anatomy of a Dream
just before you awake
when you haven't got control
of your thinking faculties
memory darts about secretly
and uncontrolled
square pegs fit into round holes
a 'Tate Modern' jigsaw of your life
sometimes hilarious
mostly random
occasionally disturbing
until all roads converge
the mental compass gradually moves to North
body and mind are reunited
then it's time to get up
and make your wife a cup of tea!
Loch Sguod
unpretentious
it was never quite going to make the guide books
I doubt if you can even find it on the net
but it's there
locked away in a quiet corner
in a glen that I don't think even has a name
due to it's anonymity
most travellers to the area
have never even heard of it
high on the ridge it's a humble 'ink spot' lochan
as you stravaig down the hill
to the jaws of the glen
you are inextricably drawn
to the green cottage dotted slopes
of the scattered hamlet
as for me I'll head straight towards Firemore beach
(whistling the main theme from Rachmaninov's third Piano Concerto)
as the sunset becomes enraged
something that has to be felt rather than seen.
Once I wrote some poems..
once I wrote some poems,
or at least some drafts of them
hill walking on Kerrera
I ran to the top of a hill
with the poems in my back pocket
it was a very steep hill
so I slid down on my backside
ascent - 20 mins
descent - 20 seconds
what a glissando
immense fun
gravity completely replaced effort
...but the poems were no longer in my back pocket!
Dave
Dave was always on top of his game
but he had to work away quite a lot
he played away too
tho his wife never knew
she was happy with the money they got
Dave was always on top of his game
he could drink the lads under the table
pool matches festooned
where pretty girls swooned
and you could be sure that Dave was always able
Dave was always on top of his game
tho he sometimes had to switch jobs
his wife saw through the lies
it was such a thin disguise
and to this day she breaks down and sobs
but Dave rose above it, on top his game
the money soon patched up the holes
but Dave couldn't resist
old problems persist
ageing man still wants to score goals
his wife rose above it, on top of her game
with a man who came to fix the telly
Dave broke her heart
she wants a fresh start
clean cut, twice the man and no beer belly
I still see Dave not on top of his game
when he goes to buy his morning paper
he looks old, tired and worn
and the women just scorn
He's too old to even think about a caper.
Izzy Bizzy Sunset
vast sea creased
into crimson smiles
stained glass sky
and white shell sand
nobody around
for miles and miles
nature and solace
go hand in hand
joy abounds
in rosy twilight
nothing to hear
but the sound of the sea
the odd bleating lambs
still have their right
walking hand in hand
my dear wife and me.
Days on the hills ( Life was Good)
in the style of Norman MacCaig
all that 'mountain chat'
whatever did we talk about
what does it really matter?
we opened our hearts
in a manner of speaking
we related to each other
like a ridge connecting two peaks
we were so forthright in our speech
yet respectful of each others feelings
drawing on memories of childhood
and comparing experiences of youth
I was always intrigued why the hills
provided the perfect setting to offload
pertinent memories that needed to be perused
like drawing water out of a very deep Well
mentally we were relieved and rejuvenated
physically we were tired and capitulated
we would look back in disbelief
at how far we had walked
fitness would bludgeon forth unannounced
as we darted towards the nearest Pub!
muscles and bones aching, hard to walk
or to even stand up. Yet we loved it.
----------------------------------------------
now as an old man
two faithful witnesses
that is, both knees
have tactfully informed me
there will be no more mountain walking
now as an old man
at the sunset of my days
as I sit here prodding the fire
( with an antique poker I so proudly
bought from a charity shop !)
the wind swirls down the chimney
and my mind swirls back
to those immortal conversations
on sun strong hills
when...
Life was Good.
Capturing the Moment
a Laura Ashley dress
could have been in a mess
entangled in wire
the sky's on fire
spread eagled by the
tantalizing wind
camera in hand
to capture some time
but time captured you
in that immortal frame
before Adamic sin
played it's aging game
you leaped over the fence
with the greatest of ease
Laura Ashley frock
caught up in the breeze
frozen like art
in time's lament
a period angel
you were heaven sent
like contemporary art
that image wont depart
as I captured that moment
and that stays in my heart.
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| Captured the moment (sorry didn't flip it) |
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| Captured the moment- I did occasionally discipline my children! |
Memories
distant waves
coruscate on the sand
distant memories
on the screen of your mind
but as I sit here
in my armchair grand
near a flowing river
and a surge of green
countless more memories
go by unseen.
Rainbow Valley
rainbows danced there
curvaceous arcs in colours of integrity
raised beaches prostrated
in sweet humility
mountains looked on
with Chess men superiority
rainbows danced there
towering peaks like three Wise Men
two helpless visitors in the window seat
slowly emerged from the shadow of the glen
to relish some iconic late summer heat
before dancing rainbows
swept them off their feet
from the jaws of Behemoth
the mist ascended
trapped in it's lair
in the valley of sweet scented air
rainbows danced there
the vivid green sparkled
with Highland purity
Leviathan looked down
with imposing credulity
an icy tingle
on a perfect blue loch
lichen clings to the patient rock
rainbows danced there.
Flatland Static
snaking ribbons look so silky now
River Evening cast your mantle prow
long shadows bring in the columns of the night
it swings to the left
it swings to the right
fat old sun over a streamer of blue
musically starved with Schubert in lieu
an orange orb on the brink of the night
it swings to the left
it swings to the right
a cackle of Geese, teamwork overhead
they out do the Swans, it has to be said
the awesome sight of an Owl in flight
it swings to the left
it swings to the right
Swans private parliament
on a 'ring of bright water'
twilight's halo on midsummer's daughter
golden red sky, not a cloud in sight
flatland static on the verge of the night
A final thought
if Dick was True
and Ted was Wright
but Dave wasn't Shaw
if Vera Knights
but Aidey's Shaw
that John was Quick
if Steve's still Rich
then Wright was Rick.
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| The Author/Poet just wondering what day it is! |
