The Cluanie

Gazing ruefully out into the gloom

from a roaring fire in a crowded room

this Highland Bard stands on the Kings Highway

being detached from the world is part of the play

through squinted windows you saw eras come and go

like footprints of deer that got covered with snow

turning back the pages through the ages of man

long before the start of my short life span

oh wandering troubadour and distant outlier

how I long to warm my bones beside your fire

and dram the night away with the patrons within

because there is no place on earth like the Cluanie Inn.

Haiku Diary

Driving through autumn

swirling leaves like fireworks

soften the harshness

then winter is here

but just like a bouncing ball

it moves swiftly on

spring at last arrives

a harbinger of summer

hope lies eternal

but the summer stalled

eventually it passed 

like a bouncing ball.

Oran na Mara - a song of the sea

There you were on the crest of a wave

so sure that you had everything planned

but you couldn't halt the pull of the undertow

then the wave crashed down on to the sand

I called out to you a heartfelt plea

throughout the gloam I could see where I'd been

but we could only speak in silence

because the tide always sweeps the beach clean

the spray kept flying off the rocks like champagne

but because of you I kept hankering on

the course of wisdom was to retrace my steps

but all was in vain as the footprints had gone.

Days go by

Raindrops are twinkling in the heather

Eriskay ponies are sticking together

why do the clouds make patterns in the sky?

Atlantic anger roars from on high

                                                               days go by

champagne coloured beaches hug the land

Eriskay ponies gallop on the sand

do you know you're only four foot high?

Your youth has gone but you're still full of spry

                                                               days go by

gentle as lambs with no need to fight

an Eriskay pony lays down for the night

why is there a ring around your eye?

The throbbing ocean gives a mornfull sigh

                                                              days gone by.

A fairytale - Meadowsweet

The wandering princess passed some old slated roofs

against an aural backdrop of young horses hoofs

nothing could match the poignancy of the hour

or the perfumed scent of the Meadowsweet flower

astride fields of wheat but far away from the rocks

teaming with butterflies and dandelion clocks

the prince was entranced by those creamy white flowers

and  with a restless heart spent many youthful hours

over Monet bridges the oaks towered above

that's where they met each other and soon fell in love

it's seductive sweetness was the theme of their song

down the fairy tale path that they gallop along.

Bleak

A black night begrudgingly gives way to the day

the static of humanity has long gone away

in miles and miles of wide open space

wandering aloud in the land's bleakest place

in a world of lost hopes and forgotten smiles

the voices of the ancients echo their trials

scattered ruins take you back centuries in flight

on an undulating wind on earths darkest  night

even Big Brother's  eyes have reached an impasse

still the rain unrelentingly runs down the glass

an austere seascape that the world left behind

in serene detatchment and monochrome lined

clouds flock together and gloom fills the sky

this place cannot change as the world goes on by

here, windswept and treeless a lone hiker will roam

in this inhospitable wilderness that he calls home.

thought this one might cheer you up. I was going to call it 'musings on the Parph peninsular' but 'bleak' somes it up in one word. Big Brother is the Cape Wrath lighthouse by the way.

The heart's assurance

In the beautiful position

with a heart full of contrition

is it better off forgotten

or will the years turn out rotten

can it ever be put to bed

or will it raise it's ugly head

this spectre hangs above the day

will it ever go away

there's no future only the past

where this torment's condemned to last

round many a deceptive bend

on a night that will never end.

Vaccines and variants

Watch the little children as they throw the dice

parents look on and urge them, please will you think twice

although the little children played  with all their heart

a variant could take you right back to the start

climbing so high one minute on the vaccine ladders

only to find out that there were too many adders

Daddy calms them down again as they restart the climb

and finds a safer stairway in this race against time

meanwhile the children swim in their own pool of pride

but Mummy appears and tells them that they should not have lied

snakes of bold mutation become even more complex

as they all sit down and wonder what will happen next.

Sourlies

A sanctuary of peace in our troubled world

patiently you sit there looking down the loch

ever since the dawn of civilization

you saw empires fall from your iron age broch

before Mother Time marches on relentless

we took the chances that we missed in our youth

when history refuses to repeat itself

and we all have to stand and face the truth

looking down Loch Nevis bathed in morning sun

aware of a freedom that we never had known

when you come home again you'll find nothing has changed

water laps the shore and the winds howl and moan

oblivious of time, of future and of past

amidst moated marshland and ribs of rock

the warmth of love emanates from your hearth

as you patiently sit staring down the loch.

Sourlies bothy on the shores of Loch Nevis

The Watcher

A childhood garden on a long forgotten street

something comes back to your mind from deep inside

lingering on the fringe of serendipity

just recognisable in times ferocious tide

notes leap from the piano in a figure of eight

you know that you'll never get those moments back

like cozy lights shining in the darkness

the pathway of melancholy keeps you on track

for the hoot of an owl or the screech of a loon

when the sun doesn't shine and it's forever night

in the distance is the scent of blossoming flowers

though The Watcher keeps waiting for that is his right.

An Gearasdan

An innocent dexterity through the drudgery of time

with sweaters that are threadbare and holes in your shoes

sleep was for the tired one after a hard day's climb

but your dreams never vanished you always had the muse

surrounded by mountains, you were doomed from the start

the fury of the ocean dealt you a bad hand

black clouds from above weighed down heavy on your heart

in a unique way that only you could understand

An Gearasdan no longer lies heavy with fatigue

silhouettes still mingle on a cobble stone street

you climbed through the years with restful grace and intrigue

with eyes open wide the masterpiece is now complete.

Recently wandering around Fort William (Gaelic - An Gearasdan) I was pleasantly surprised how sprightly it looked after a period of showing signs of tiredness.

What am I?

In an instant of time I can raise your spirits

convey a mood in just a matter of minutes

immerse yourself in me and I'll ease your pain

reduce anxiety so you don't go insane

your blood flows along smoother when I am played

reducing stress levels to a much lower grade

increasing stamina to go further than you thought

help a bond to flourish in the love that you court

in the ear of an infant I can send him to sleep

I can pull on your heartstrings and cause you to weep

give you motivation to earn your reward

a bottomless pit that can't be fully explored.

Platitudes

'It was meant to be' was just a mere token

the stupidest words ever to be spoken

okay I know that there is 'no I in team'

but if I hear that one more time I'll scream

then what about 'if you don't succeed try again'

fine, but go and try it somewhere else then

fair enough I suppose 'what will be will be'

but platitudes suck the very life out of me

and others too because 'great minds think alike'

one of these days I'll tell them to just take a hike

though happily this poem wont last much longer

but what doesn't kill you will make you stronger!

Dedicated to ... *

Arrogant and stubborn through all of his days

just like the Kings in Shakespeare's plays

custodian of all knowledge you can add to the list

never a team player so will not be missed

'I did it my way' was the theme of his swagger

his snarling put downs went in like a dagger

battled with challenges right on into the night

rejected advice because he was always right

but soon his grip on authority began to unroll

he never expected to relenquish control

there were some sombre faces on the day that he died

some came to the funeral but nobody cried.

*no-one in particular.

In an olden style

Looking down on Eriskay's speckled slopes

thee spun our dreams and fired our hopes

in an island lilt so bright and gay

the language of the land holds sway

an eagle quarters up on high

betwixt the veil of earth and sky

the ocean's doom doth howl and moan

as I stand on the mountain..... all alone.

I think this is a circumhorizontal arc - it was in the sky above the Isle of Eriskay

Red skies

The Hebridean stallion will ride tonight

                      red skies stretched across the morning

those stolid mountains will be trembling in fright

                      but the shepherds heeded the warning

some trees bent right over others stood up straight

                       as the thunder was rumbling

many fell in their uncompromising state

                       they were not meant for humbling

the final disruption of the plans of men

                       now thunder tears across the sky

celestial pyrotechnics wont be heard again

                        they know now the Shepherds can't lie

they looked on in horror as their world was destroyed

                        how the wind deftly climbed the scale

the storm has no conscience when it gets annoyed

                         though some did live to tell the tale

the menacing doom has now gone forever

                           as red skies stretched across the night

the storm left nothing bad behind whatsoever

                            now the shepherds rest in tranquil delight.

This was our first  true Hebridean storm, I tried to take a video but was unable to stand! Winds were estimated at 90mph!

Glider

Windblown grace you glide aloft

high above a ruined croft

but then your deadly arc was true

in finery of cobalt blue

like an unspouled reel of fishing line

with vision that's much sharper than mine

invisible to human eyes

lurching from eternal skies

emerging beauty on the hill

soon to be in for the kill

a freedom we will never know

as black as night and pure as snow.

This is actually a common Buzzard, I don't have any good pictures of Eagles.

Torridon

A mantle of sadness lays draped around your hills

still the golden sun illuminates your wings

birch trees are anchored by the passing of time

as the gorse opens it's arms awaiting to be kissed

lilts of  happy chatter of walkers linger in the breeze

the pine martens feel safe when the day shuts it's eyes

the pale moon mocks the lullaby of the overlord

time honoured shrines under dark skies and mist

but a friend cannot be lost if no friendship was made

rules cannot be broken if there were never any there

still, the frothy waves will lap the pebbles on your shore

and only then will you discover what you already knew.

Loch of the Stag

A shrill soprano that cannot be ignored

then the devastating silence is shattered

dark giants prepare for spectacular collision

as the beautiful white violence is unleashed

but in the distance the sound of a bell can be heard

the rope is pulled harder as closing time nears

it gradually resonates above the turmoil

until once more the jewelled mountain looks on with passion

through the stained glass window blue sky can now be seen

a wandering band of sunshine illuminates the loch

on the other side of the cloisters are shades of golden hazel

where people hesitantly participate in reality.

This was a bike ride we had around Loch Damh amidst pulsing squalls of violent hail. Like the previous poem it is rich in symbolic imagery.

Beinn Alligin - the jewelled mountain.

For the Torridon Café

In a small cozy cafè we had our repast

the weather was fine but we knew it couldn't last

like the towering hills that are covered with snow

old mother time said that we too had to go

a highland jewell full of family and friends

timeless characters and eccentric blends

to drink your coffee in this fine wonderland

with a backdrop of lochans and mountains so grand

soothing the heart and calming the mind

not many places like this will you find

in a wild untamed land at the foot of the Ben

can't wait until the next time we drop by again.

thanks  for dropping by, Marky

sliànte mhath and KTDA x