Bucolic

Golden pink creeps down the hills tonight

placating the world with a soft tinted light

the bond with nature can only grow stronger

if only this reverie could last a little longer

in wide open spaces between mountains and sea

there are glistening spring days where people are free

the more things change here the more they stay the same

as the tired race winds down towards the end game

birdsong lifts our already heightened senses

sheep and horses  graze behind rustic fences

as time stacks up and the years roll by

the shepherd sits down and gives a long happy sigh

Pastoral

On hearing the first Cuckoo in Glenuachdarach

Cuckoo, cuckoo - the heartbeat of spring

on lonely fences is where you will sing

or in long dewy grass through slanted woods

your voice echoes through the scattered neighborhoods

like a perpetual river with its calming sound

only to be heard and not to be found

a migratory pattern that wont change its course

heavenly wonderment as pure as the gorse

leaving the mango trees wasn't in vain

to hear your sweet voice on a quaint leafy lane

the hills all rejoice when the Cuckoo arrives

notes of the countryside that enrich our lives.

Bruach na Frithe

Primrose footsteps through the softness of time

under curtains of stone and unfathomable rock

in dark geometry against a crystaline sky

Bruach na Frithe gives a respectful nod

at the dawn of creation the angels rejoiced

as the secrets of eternity were carefully concealed

frozen waves of granite bask in quietude

now they know that the beast cannot be tamed

many silent wishes lay beneath tumbled rocks

and ancient melodies linger in your presence

you still feel the sadness when you didn't forgive

outwardly austere but melancholic within

robes of angled shade slope into the sea

pathways of the future trail towards the unknown

linger here a little longer please, if you will

for the sun has already started to set.

                

The secret of her beauty

The secret of her beauty lies in her hair

a tinge of floral shade is beheld in your stare

please strum on your lute just like you did before

far away from the sea with its mighty roar

the secret of her beauty lies in her silence

far from crashing waves and their beautiful violence

like a crystaline loch that's tethered to the ground

the brushing of your long hair doesn't make a sound

the secret of her beauty lies in her wings

glide through paradise as Ambrosia sings

to scale your mountains is a long hard climb

but I'll grasp your hand as we sail through time.

     The beautiful Kyle Of Durness

 

Essence - Lost for words

In spring rain in the afternoon

or on a night without a moon

memories of a distant June

autumn colours came too soon

sat beneath a blissful sky

pondering over days gone by

mountains towering from on high

see the children's tears dry

hastening the sun to rise

bathed in terracota skies

with the sleep still in our eyes

before the red glow slowly dies

the artist paints the scene in thirds

bucolic sound of distant herds

lapping waves and the sound of birds

many a poet lost for words. 

Hazel (1944 - 2022)

Boldly we walked on through the gates of peace

where acts of loving kindness will never cease

though we all have our own battles to face

our cares disappeared in that sun speckled place

to be so kind in heart yet great in mind

and make sure that every cloud was silver lined

with her charming manner she'd make anyone smile 

and conquer the wicked one with his own guile

balsam from petriberg would dry any tear

a hearty welcome and totally sincere

even the sun was invited to shine down from above

because we all remember Hazel with love.

Little Lamb

An early morning chorus greets the dawn

when a lovely fluffy lamb is born

frolics in the meadow, drinks from the spring

can you hear the heavenly choir sing?

may your feet always be steady on the ground

what you have given us makes our world go round

even in a blustery north coast gale

you showed us how to adjust our sail

what do you see when you look into my eyes?

A lone wanderer under paradise skies

lonesome little lamb, you alone now know the score

maybe we're the ones that are lost out on the moor

with the heart of a lion you will always be calm

the Shepherd will make sure you come to no harm

go wander up the mountains and take in their glory

because soon the whole world will hear your story.

 Mighty Miniatures

Love is a feeling

that can never be described

as it is sacred

In a rainswept world

basking in days of sunshine

are very special

Young people grow old

aging is not natural

yet we accept it

when one door closes

another one can open

though not all the way.

Broad bodied chaser, female.

Pyrausta, or 'Purple and Gold' 2cm wingspan - mighty miniature indeed!

Green Hairstreak - UK's only green Butterfly.

Dark Green Fritillary

Riding with the Emperor

Cycling through many a woodland glade

where the dark prince has never ever been betrayed

how you float so high above our realm

where the Oak trees tower above the Elm

still we ride along in verdant refrain

harnessing the power of the sunshine once again

underneath the columns of quivering trees

there are thunderbolts of purple that no-one sees

riding along on a wing and a prayer

His Imperial Majesty hangs in the air

taking a low flightpath he then comes to a halt

pauses for a while and takes in some salt

the sun's at its peak in the middle of July

at the end of the week he must say goodbye

rolling in amazement he delivers the goods

before dissolving into the nearby woods

                                        "pauses for a while then takes in some salt"

            Purple Emperors literally landing on us as we were cycling!

 The Sea

When we were children we longed for the sea

from life in the city it was great to be free

to feel the sand underneath our feet

whether bracing cold or the midsummer heat

but as we grew older the sea wasn't so warm

our childhood days were the calm before the storm

adolescence passed with some turbulent years

youth slowly peters out as old age appears

when we were young we didn't care where our feet would land

blithely jumping over silver waves on the sand

chasing through yesterdays, we lived forever back then

didn't realise things would never be the same again

personal eccentricities and secrets up our sleeves

still there was laughter in swirling autumn leaves

the passing of time gradually said to me

life will always be as uncertain as the sea.

      from the summit of Ben Hope

     The author pondering over the title of the current blog

Remembering Geoffrey (1935  - 2022)

Sit down and have a coffee, with cream if you can

I'd like to talk about an interesting man

surrounded by artefacts and much more unseen

reminds me of what a great journey it's been

stood in his bungalow, it's hard to believe he's gone

the enthusiasm in his voice seems to linger on

the sound of blues music kind of hangs in the air

I expect to see Geoffrey yet I know he's not there

the teacher shaped the gold in such intense heat

but levelled with the children, just the new kid on the street

carried the burden of ageing with such a youthful spry

as anyone who knew him could well testify

but on that day a dove respectfully dipped its wings

still in sorrowful remembrance the blackbird sings

the fruitage of the days of a humble caring man

so enjoy your coffee but have it with cream if you can.

       Male Winchat

Hercules - Prelude

if you go down to the woods today, 

you may be in for a bit of a shock

birds are twittering in the trees

and a grizzly bear's swimming in the loch!

In all my years on the Hebrides

and islands such as these

I've seen Otters, Eagles and Wildcats

but never met Hercules!

Hercules

You maybe had a sad song on your mind that evening

I well know it's not nice to dwell on sad songs

but there you stand gazing into the loch

perhaps you're not sure where your heart belongs

now several days have passed by since that first evening

many days spent alone swimming in the loch

throughout your life the sun has always shone through the trees

and you drank the sweetest water from the rock

it's not too late to be free, summer's only just begun

soon the orange sun will rise and spread its rays

yet I still sing sad songs and stare into the loch

and boldly contemplate the rest of our days.

Whilst filming an Andrex advert, Hercules saw his chance for freedom and escaped. The army and Navy were looking all over North Uist for nearly a month before a crofter found him in Langass woodland whilst walking his dog! 

Butterfly Summer

From the high oaks the Hairstreaks come down from above

that's when the Poets sit down to write about love

just as a butterfly slowly opens its wings

the essence of an English summer begins

though we all have our own mountains to climb

waves of optimism will arise in their own time

and the joy of seeing busy bees in their flowers

will pass away many sun drenched hours

clouds keep throwing their shadows on the river

where the swans know they have a generous giver

by the green canal willow trees quiver in delight

until fields of haystacks dwindle out of sight

nostalgia's warm breeze probes the corner of your mind

blue tailed damsels are never far behind

eventually August emerges from July

then we lament where it's gone and have to say goodbye.

Panacaea

Soothing melodies on a candle lit beach

your soft sung lullabies are just out of reach

I see you search for gold in the ruins nearby

under a vermillion cloud laden sky

                                                                                               then Bacchus arrived

his eyes emblazoned the noble path of the ancients

bathed in a pallete of violet and patience

scented rose petals are now covering the grass

though the sea prevents any mere mortal to pass

                                                                                               then Bacchus spoke

see how the hills and burns always stay together

the wine of the ocean embraces their tether

under chains of servitude hangs a fragile face

abounding in unfettered beauty and grace.

                                                                                            then Bacchus departed

yet in the gold of the evening I stand all alone

the refrains you sung have slowly turned into stone

but as winter approaches with its harsh severity

your beauty remains for all your posterity

                                                                                             so here I am.

     

 Totescore

The world goes on but you pay no attention

sheep and cattle graze under blue skies of peace

somewhere some fishermen are casting their nets

as the bold sun gradually arches up the hills.

An unrelenting calm settles across scattered hamlets

nobody is in a hurry, the pace of life is slow

eventually our nearest neighbours turn on their lights

soon veils of moonlight will descend on the glen

and the fishermen will gladly bring home their catch.

Glamaig (this is personal)

Rising up like a pyramid straight from the road

steep flanks on all sides you graciously showed

without mercy you tower so high

impenetrable bastion, sentinel of Skye

guarded by scree you've always been the same

oblivious to time and this world's end game

our fear was exposed as we tuned into your song

only courage and patience could guide us along

always my enemy never on my side

unforgiving entity bulging with pride

the head of the loch changes from auburn to brown

only on the summit is it possible to look down

I stare at the landscape etched into the ground

sweeping ridges and pools of blue all around

with breathtaking views and a peaceful repast

I've conquered my nemesis mountain at last.

Canisp (this is not personal)

Unwinding on the quietude of a gradual ascent

as civilization fades into the austere

scattered lochans appear like comforting words

draping in wonderment the glory of Assynt

like a novel that you don't want to come to an end

master of patience you bided your time

how did you know that the sky would fall down

the splendour has gone but the candle of grandeur still burns

some cheerful sunshine tried to break through the rules

but nobody really knew what the rules were

so we talked and relived the echoes of our lives

and made our descent as the time left was reduced.

from the summit of Canisp looking towards Suilven

Scouriemore

Shards of purple and pink now the wind's in the north

hang peacefuly on the shine of a late summer's day

the wrought iron gate swings back and forth

as a glow of windows look down on the bay

corduroy ripples in a serenity of blue

a quivering of peat bogs in this pastoral scene

suspended in time and too good to be true

sheep pasture down in rectangles of green

the art of letting go and knowing you're free

like the teamwork of geese searching for somewhere to land

soon a violet hue will embrace the sea

as they weep no more when they're safe on the sand

but the swallows will always come back and sing

the wind doesn't always blow in the north

roses will always keep growing in spring

but the wrought iron gate still swings back and forth.

And finally...

You're on the A9 now

(spoof of 'You're in the army now' Status Quo)

A vacation in the Motherland

old Ingo does the best he can

you're on the A9 now

oh, oh we're on the A9........................now

my wife said overtake that car

can if you want but you wont get far

you're on the A9 now

oh,oh we're on the A9...........................now

lorry driver that you can't get past

could overtake but my car aint fast

you're on the A9 now

oh,oh we're on the A9..........................now

I think I'll pull off at Newtonmore

I just can't take this anymore

we're off the A9 now

oh,oh we're off the A9...............................................................NOW!

KTDA , Marky🦋