Prologue - believe it or not there are about 500 poems on the board now, most of these are in a rhyming meter - as a diversion, in this and maybe subsequent blogs, I want to experiment with free verse, poems that don't rhyme...if it works GREAT, if it doesn't work..still GREAT!

For any Cuckoo

The ground is adorned with violets

and the verges are bedecked with pink

freely I float over corn fields

in the gold of the evening light

cuckoo, cuckoo

my call resounds across the moor

as dew hangs in beads on the grass

the good land is breathing in peace

now I know that my children are safe

cuckoo, cuckoo

still wild flowers cling to the sandy soil

as the moon rises high above the loch

nothing is stronger than a Mothers love

forgive me if you will, I stole what was mine

cuckoo, cuckoo.

     Scotland's far North West - Cuckoo Land

Purple Arrows

Looking up at the towering oaks

at leafy lanes unseen to our eyes

purple arrows dart across the branches

from emerald canopies in a secret world

green leaves edged with the light of spring

a metropolis of foliage self contained

purple arrows dart across the tree tops

they have no need to go to ground

but just before sunshine leaves the day

and evening drops it's silent cloak

purple arrows settle in for the night

a Blackbird sings a lullaby from below.

     Purple Hairstreak - Chambers Wood, Lincolnshire.

         Purple Hairstreak 40x zoom!

Once again

Sat alone by the Fisherman's hut

the loch surrenders it's afterglow

light on the heather is in retreat

darkness falls like a feather

miles away from civilisation

yearning for the rowdiness of a crowded pub

the conviviality of a bbq with friends

or even a random meet on a busy high street 

but soon the night will lift like a stage curtain

the wind will calm down from its rage

then the sound of the waterfall  is heard once again

and the chattering of happy birds on the wing.

Springtime Lovers

Buds slowly opened

and so did their hearts

the birds were singing

and they were too

they looked into each others eyes

and their problems vanished

they said they loved each other

and nothing else mattered

the sea of time lapped their feet

and they grew old together

their love endured forever

because they were Spring time lovers.

Caution

Don't read my poems before they're finished

don't check the scores when it's only half time

the Queen will never let the workers in

until she knows the hive is complete

but when the honeycomb is ready

how sweet is the light of day.

                                       sea stack full of Guillemots - Handa Island.

         

Ambrosia's Promise

Ambrosia's jewels are twinkling

see her swimming in the turquoise waters

now she is brushing her hair

hear her singing an enchanting soprano refrain

she brushes the banks with violets and primroses

a symphony of colour, myriads of little notes

she brushes the hills with peachy light

she brushes the sea loch with calming ripples

gold is the colour of her kind

mountains silhouette themselves against a backdrop of vermillion

until the green giant puts his hand over the golden orb

gradually the singing ceases

then the deep and sad sound of the cello can be heard

her music cannot be fettered

the land will always be the same.

On dry stone walls

The stones they fit so closely together

each one is shaped and made for each other

timeless stones that were once somebody's home

now they're rooted to the soft springy heather

on a crisp still morning or a venomous gale

stones of sincerity will always be found

held together by the heartbeat of the land

meandering freely you will always be there

across rolling moors of  unending gladness

beside rippling notes of sequestered burns

punctuating the rolling hills of eternity

climbing and stretching for miles you roam

onward through grid squares you go twisting and turning

a cohesive togetherness shows you can't change

dry stone walls speak in ways that we can not

boldly oblivious in your unchanged world.

A poem in yellow

You outshine the sun throughout the year

as you wander over rocky bluffs

a coconut scent unveils the sky

when tenacious clouds cling to mountain tops

I'm sure that I heard the angels cheer

as you scrambled over the highest peaks

bringing old fishing villages to life

you distill the spirit of the land

see the sheep, they graze without a care

like weathered rocks on dry stone walls

the spongy heather lays down it's sword

a hard earned victory for vibrant yellow.

Lost Sheep

Why do you keep coming to my window?

Haven't you got any friends of your own?

Why is it that you keep coming back?

Is it that the other Sheep do not like you?

Why do you bleat so longingly?

Why do you not let me come near to you?

I don't mind you coming to my window

I don't mind if you keep coming back

I don't mind if you don't stop bleating

I know what it's like to be cast aside

I know what it's like to have no friends

I know what it's like to be on your own

yet there is one thing I find so strange

when I put you back in the field with the other Sheep -

because to me all Sheep they look the same

just another field of scattered Sheep

yet as I gaze upon that field

I always know where you are.

 

Obiter Dictum - Word Haikus

If you watch where you are walking

you will miss many things

so keep your head in the clouds

if you can embrace the wildest weather

you'll love what you hate

and the land will reveal its treasures

many photos of rare birds

but not many photos of common birds

is not beauty in all nature?

Shostakovich String Quartets or a Brahms Symphony

people also can be diverse

you have to adjust to apppreciate them

A walk along Rhiconich River

Come for a walk along Rhiconich River

the lowering sun spreads the colours of life

see the Stonechats bounce as they scan the banks

we always walk the way of the river

tussocky heather will carpet your feet

and moody clouds will entrance your view

when the river finally opens it's mouth

Black Throated Loons will give an aquatic display

flawlessly time will reveal its secrets

your life is your own but you have to return

passing by an endless stream of moments

the impressionistic painting is almost complete

Stonechats are still catching flies in the air

rivers will always reach the sea in the end

so if you decide to come along or not

we all walk the way of the Rhiconic river.

                Stonechat

       Black throated Diver

Empty

Abandoned houses that can't move on

where once there was laughter and children's games

down on the banks of yesterday's dreams

seals are mourning but you can't hear them cry

eagles soar on the blink of a breeze

before nothing can move in this storm bound world

but eventually it passes and its calm once again

and the happy streams sparkle for no-one to see

There's a cafè at the lighthouse

but there's nothing on the menu

it's crowded with absence

and no-one's sat on the seats

because the only people that come here

are destined to leave

nothing comes back here, only the wind

to contour the hills

that are lonely and forgotten

immortalised in poems

that no one will ever read.

Disclaimer- the above is complete poetic license. The Ozone Cafè on the Cape Wrath peninsula is absolute legend! After a rocky eleven mile uphill slog we had 'beans on toast' and it was the best meal we've had in our lives!

Shapes of things

Strange shapes are in familiar places

a familiar mountain track winds on

each step seems heavier as you go

how long can you keep this going

your head must push your feet 

the breaks are getting longer

bent over inhaling so deep

this upside down triangle

must shoulder the pain

push your boundaries

the summit is there

but its in the mist

no views today

pat the cairn

a slow walk

onward I

will go

soon

am

I

The Kyle of Durness

My gaze is caught and held yet again

surely an Artist greater than any human hand

how tender and radiant are your colours

see how violet takes hold in between breaths of pink

as the turquoise water reflects golden clouds

the long grass starts to bend in the evening breeze

revealing Marsh orchids gathered together

but soon the colour will depart from you 

as a wave breaks from the sea

the sun will sink in peace

and the moon will rise like a Chinese lantern

still tender and still radiant.

     The Kyle of Durness

Garlands of Flowers

She picked wild flowers from beside the burn

their freshness was fleeting

like the blossom of youth

before the long and silent repose of Winter

now she is close yet eternally distant

confined in her own fortress of pride

the stream is still flowing

hard earned tears still run their own course

twin peaks look down

they are snowcapped now

they have laid down their burden of grief.

Sheigra

There are just sixteen houses

although the cast keeps changing

each home tells it's own story

not disimilar from the burn

it has no beginning 

and neither does it have an end

but it accepts it's own fate

continuous windswept gales

or peace with the lowering sun

a gilded noiselesss evening

broken only by the Cuckoo

promising that the next day

will be as peaceful as the last.

       Sheigra High Street

Musings on Ben Stack

Deep in the glen I'm nothing but a whisper

but on the summit I'm the Laird of the Highlands

at my behest a preponderance of lochans

from this vantage point I see they're lined up on shelves

squiggly lines of blue provide water underneath

islands break away into the shimmering silver of the sea

as they can not cling to the contorted coastline

the veil between heaven and earth is pretty thin here

it's hard to grasp the magnificent scale of everything

yet on this narrow ridge I know I'm vulnerable

sheer drops remind me of my own mortality

in meaningful reverie, sunshine addressed our cares

our journey has to be tamed with humility

so as clouds prepare for battle we begin our descent

on the ground, once again I'm a mere exhalation.

Faraid Head

The sun rises yet it is clearly ashamed

sheepishly it hides behind a few tattered clouds

other clouds join and huddle together 

a few early Marsh Orchids bow their heads

hesitant waves hardly dare break on the white sand

they know they are unable to reveal their secrets

so as one they beat a hasty retreat

a lone Hooded Crow observes from a distance

but he is unable to interpret the code

Oyster Catchers convene in roisterous conviction

but they too know that they are outcasts

grassy knolls surrender to the sound of the horn

Faraid Head lays down it's arms and Seagulls are nervous

but nothing escapes the vision of the Eagle

at the sound of the drum he will dive on his prey

but until that time he'll circle his hole in the sky.....He knew!

To Music

Here in my parallel universe

dreaming sweetly the boat drifts on and on

who can I thank for this wonderful gift?

You have the power to make me smile

yet you have the depth to make me cry

you illuminate recollections of happy times

and soften the rough edges of the saddest days

from the blackest night in some forgotten wood

to the glorious golden light of a Highland dawn

how sweet to see things through the eyes of music

so who can I thank for this most wonderful art?

Ubiquitous

In a misty land of river breezes

primrose paths on a Brimstone's flight

where raindrops fall on Peacocks feathers

and mellow winds announce the dawn

ubiquitous across the moor

they look bold Autumn in the eye

and wrinkle up with heavy hearts

fighting to the very last drop of Spring

because they know they will return

in paint brush splatters of no constraint

comely glances through long green blades

in the Great Artists lustrous estate.

NC 500, Pandemic advice

Hey, come up here and do the North Coast 500

don't let the pandemic make a mess of your plans

come up here and see the breathtaking scenery

while your stuck behind a trail of huge camper vans

so come and join the fun on the North Coast 500

if you're in a sports car, come along for the race

did I mention there's a lot of single track road

and tourists taking photos in each passing place

what do you remember from the North Coast 500?

The midges were out so I had a permanent frown

there was terrible weather and I needed the loo

but I couldn't find a toilet because they'd all been shut down

so if you're thinking of doing the North Coast 500

there are lots of other nice places like Paris or Rome

sooner or later the travel ban will be lifted

but until then you might as well stay at home!

and finally...

A Fishmongers tale

He balances the scales but doesn't know his plaice

not near the top of his game but pretty near the bass

he would clam up when his pal said "you owe me six pound"

he just flexed his mussels and carried on his round

though he began to flounder under a mackerel sky

this dashing young man sporting a nice kipper tie

battered by the sea this chap had lost his sole

no tellin who he would cod on to reach his goal

but his pal grabbed his eel before the evening slid

then the Fishmonger said "here, have your sick squid"

so the Fishmonger was dabbed in, couldn't of happened sooner

now he makes a living as a Piano Tuna!

Toodles, Marky.