So why the scenic route? Well the scenic route is always slower - and poems have been coming out a lot slower since I hit a spell of 'writers block'! That's write, sorry right I've suffered from an inability to honour my contract of knocking out twenty poems every three months! I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later. Of course I went straight away to see my GP, he advised regular trips to the Motherland, taking as many photos as possible - which in fact I am doing, lockdown permitting. So here we go, enjoy the ride...

Ode to Qwerty Uiopas

Behold the Poet! He's just not writing anymore

the Minstrel can't sing either when he's been denied the score

their ideas have all dried up, of this fact there is no doubt

searching for the spark when the lights have all gone out

perhaps a calm blue sea with a beach that's full of birds

might translate in real terms to a page that's full of words

but the bog cotton still waves and bids 'please keep on going' 

the river meanders on and on, it doesn't just stop flowing

like a ballerina dancing on the surface of the water

an enchanting audience with only the applauder

weaving her imagery on the surface of the rock

gently she escorts you, write through your writers block.

Qwerty Uiopas is just the first twelve letters on the keyboard.

  

Pebbles on the shore

We are all of us like pebbles

just lying on the shore

the receding tide took some of them

and then brought back some more

we had our moment in the sun

while children collected shells

and Waders probed with their long beaks

to where the Sandworm dwells

of course there was the seaweed

that always got in the way

but the current pushed it aside 

so we could see the light of day

though days came and went so fast

like closing an open door

ready to go out with the tide

just like pebbles on the shore.

Holidays

Savour every moment

it doesn't last that long

time rolls on relentless

and days roll into one

life is like a river

a sweet melodious sound

you can't stop the momentum

the clock keeps going round

you couldn't take in the beauty

as you didn't have the time

to contemplate the grandeur

and take in the sublime

yet all nature is perfect

and time will always mend

so savour every moment

it's getting near the end.

savouring the moment

just about to savour the moment

savouring the moment

A visit to Snakeholme Meadows

The meadows that rebelled against the spirit of the world

bring us such joy as each page of summer is unfurled

butterflies in gold dust as they chance upon some flowers

and a helicopter display in between the showers

a streak of regal turquoise darts across the water

this corridor of green is Mother Nature's daughter

hear the notes of different birds from high in the trees

peeping under branches as they sway in the breeze

now the sun, moon and stars have their own undrstanding

like the tireless fliers that aren't in it for landing

the paradise we long for that at one time was lost

is thriving at Snakeholme Meadows and yet there's no cost

Dedicated to Peter Cawdell, without him there wouldn't be a Snakeholme Meadows.

Snakeholme Meadows in Lincolnshire

The Man on the Mountain (rhyming version)

See the man on the mountain

that towers above Scoraig

some consider him foolish

as he looks at you so vague

now a little hard of hearing

also his eyesight has grown dim

but things aren't always what they seem

his cup is filled right to the brim

he sees the long finger of green

as it stretches into the sea

as the sun grows like an orange disc

and exudes verdant poetry

surf blows off the loch like prose

to him it's not foul weather

just a strange intoxication

like threading words together

see the Teacher on the mountain

that towers above the land

but all he sees is barrenness

he fails to understand

you see, the man on the mountain

has learned to love what he hates

rain and toil and sweat is freedom

where no evil rebuke awaits

from the eyes within his head

orchids thrive on summer days

the land is just a leveller

in a variety of ways

there's a school down in the township

but the Teacher has to leave

there are only just five children

with not much to achieve

tethered to normality

in a world that's lost it's vision

they smile at their abandonment

as they've made the right decision

they don't want the city life

they sing the songs of the hills

and laugh at their captivity

and shunning this world's thrills

see the Teacher on his boat

as it's leaving Scoraig pier

he's traded in his freedom

to further his career

still the man up on the mountain

is aware that his end nears

hands not firm now on the plough

like it's been for many years

virtues of sleet roll across the loch

some things are beyond a price

sheep will always safely graze

in this earthly paradise.

The Scoraig Peninsular from Beinn Ghloblach

The Scoraig school

Satellite transmission

The languid mist hung in the air

like a wispy old stage curtain

so where does this walk begin?

Nobody seemed quite certain

eventually we all trotted off

heading deep down into the forest

wild flowers bowed their heads

to our residential florist

one by one we reached the summit

and immediately turned to Twitter

we hadn't climbed a Highland hill

but had bagged a transmitter

granted it wasn't quite the same

as bagging a Munro

but perhaps this new found craze

is the way that we should go

we all walked back along the road

with our dear Brothers and Sisters

and by the time we had reached the car

most of us had blisters

but what does that really matter

crafty chips are not a sin

when you can have an honest pint

at the lovely Plocton Inn.

The Wanderer

Soft light clings to the remains of the day

a solitary pony stands there grazing

but autumnal pastures led you astray

even though summer's last breath was amazing

Highland Pony, a childhood dream come true

down by the loch is where you would hang out

away from pastures under a sky so blue

where there were no insecurities and doubt

see the lone wanderer drinking from the burns

like beautiful songs that remain in our ears

yet you chose life's uncertain twists and turns

now raindrops run down the walls like tears

still, the spiky grass holds the dunes together

as you find shelter under shimmering stars

the Blackbird still sings whatever the weather

but some of us have to live with the scars.

Walking around Stornoway - i

One day I found myself walking around Stornoway

deep in the heart of this old castled town

my attention was drawn to a man near the harbour

he had wrinkled skin and a permanently etched frown

streets crossed around like children's necklaces

unaware of time and it's ever changing trends

omnipresent seagulls patiently waited

down near the fishing boats for any loose ends

the weathered old fisherman he was always there

firmly anchored to the pavement of his past

to him, the present is like a fading photograph

and he knows he has a future that simply can't last

colourful boats come and go in the sunshine

as he opens a sandwich with arthritic fingers

weathered and sunburnt he hangs on for the tide

as the tweed of the evening gracefully lingers

later on I walk around Stornoway again

and my mind goes back to that haggard old man

as Old Mother Time spins her eternal loom

our story ends right back where it began

Sea Eagles circle way up high in the sky

the counterpoint of youth blends together as one

anxiously I scurry along down to the harbour

in search of the Fisherman, to find he has gone

the shops all linked arms and huddled together

tiny streets looked at each other as if they knew

the castle condescended to the lesser exalted

seagulls bowed their heads when the harbour whistle blew.

Walking around Stornoway ii  - born to love, died of hate

There you sit snarling under a cloudless blue sky

trying your best to avoid the eyes of society

to be tormented by time was your own free choice

you know that your life wasn't free of notoriety

your castles in the sky were just miles too high

now you have no companions, belongings or home

three divorces later before the sun finally sets

it's around the narrow streets of Stornoway that you roam

just a crumpled up bag only you know what's within

because you left behind a wife, family and house

still in the raging tempest of your final years

it's your private war that you daily espouse

you capture the attention of a passing tourist

where pigeons and last night's litter adorn the ground

but you elude people just like you always have done

he returns to the same spot but you cannot be found

somewhere on the headland there lies an unmarked grave

nothing elaborate and certainly not ornate

if only I could have composed the epitaph

it would have read ' born to love but died of hate'.

A unique moment

Listen as the Angelic choir sings

when his Imperial Majesty opens his wings

orange and mauve abound in their glory

and those gothlike eyes command their own story

what a joy it is when they come down to the ground

because most of the year they cannot be found

hear the Sons of God as they shout in applause

because you can admire it and the memory is yours.

We called 16th July 2021, PE (Purple Emperor) day - on a walk round Chambers woods, we saw at least 16 male Purple Emperors come to ground! 

Ode to Graemsay

Dedicated to Sian Thomas

Madame Button is on her final perambulation

now the simmer dim has lost its glorious illumination

gable ends that could no longer shoulder the gales

abandoned farmhouses are now hidden by hay bales

stripey cows are grazing in another ruined croft

where once the smoke of herrings was held  high aloft

the fishing industry just couldn't carry on any more

as their buildings gradually collapsed into the shore

the silage has been gathered in and so  has the hay

at the end of another 'Life on a Small Island' day

now the summer is over and the tourists have gone home

but thrift and buttercups still adorn the ground where you roam

oh Graemsay, little island from a bygone age

your history is not lost it's still there on the page

the sun falls behind the hills of Hoy none the less

as we watch the lights slowly go on in Stromness.

Isle of Graemsay, by kind permission of Sian Thomas  - of 'Life on a small island' blog

My Willow Emerald

Living iridescence, 

glistening like glass

darting through the reeds 

and bending with the grass

the epitome of elegance

on an endless summer's day

your eyes gave you your diligence

but time took you away

delicate as Venetian lace

 in dappled sunlight sweet

a slender thread of emerald 

is an awesome sight to greet

as silent as a whisper

on an early autumn day

from the instant that I kissed her

time took us both away.

A Willow Emerald - but not mine!

New Adventures -  Longing

Gilded recollections of bygone days

softened round the edges by time's gentle haze

can't we reclaim the coastline that's fresh and green

instead of lamenting on what could have been

when your boat left the harbour of happy times

I found solace in composing these poor rhymes

fragments of longing that you cannot ignore

yearning for the day when our spirit might soar

though yesterday's crescendos were soon stubbed out

and the north wind blew and scattered them about

still you could make a special dispensation

from the lonely islands of desolation

just another wave that breaks upon the shore

can you not do again what you have done before

as poetry on the wings of butterflies

like snowcapped mountains under northern skies.

New Adventures - Courage

When waves of anxiety rise from within

to admit you're scared is surely not a sin

though it may help to see the bigger picture

and call back to mind your favourite scripture

when the devil gets his bullies to enjoin

faith and bravery are both sides of the same coin

courage will help you make straight paths for your feet

to walk where hope and reality will very soon meet.

New Adventures  - Haikus of Happiness

We ate together

the sun streamed through the windows

we were happy then

we are all equal 

whatever we accomplish

we all come and go

happiness plateaus

money is a distraction

contentment brings peace

joy is contagious

you can make people happy

by being happy

YOU pressed the pedal

the fear of rejection

release the pedal.

New Adventures - Jealousy

Behold the stark features of the green eyed beast

on negativity is what he will feast

he shifted your mind on to another track

he doesn't want those blue eyes to ever come back

he has two good friends - they're called Envy and Greed

avoid kindness and there'll be nothing you'll need

to be well on course for a town that's called 'Hate'

wired up different, you no longer think straight

a different person from how you used to be

all that you ever think about now is 'me'

no reason to think about anyone else

how long will it be before the candle melts?

can't you see that you can still have your own voice

all you do is rejoice with those that rejoice

fight off the monster with the green eyes of pride

and you will feel a lot happier inside.

New Adventures - Excitement

Huisinish smoothly shapes the bay with its sand

Eriskay still has secrets buried in the land

Barra has a castle in the sea so bold

Rodel stands on a road paved with gold

Isle of Berneray demands to be explored

Dalabrog stands in an island that's adored

Eubhal towers over tableland and glen

Skye has the ferry to start the adventure again.

New Adventures was a conceptual operatic work by the Hungarian avant garde composer Gyorgy Ligeti in which he explored a range of human emotions including: desire, fear, courage, excitement and jealousy. I have tried to emulate that through snapshots of various forms of poetry. I thought the arty pictures might be fitting also.

Plenty

Sat watching the Waders down on the beach

an abundance of food is never out of reach

Curlews strut around, they don't have a care

they know that the Sandworms will always be there

sat watching the Guillemots circling the sea

brimming with Sand Eels and they know that they're free

they have instinctive wisdom no need for advice

eat till they are satisfied and without a price

sat watching the Gannets dive into the water

teaming with Mackerel just ripe for the slaughter

nature 'a la carte' or food on the go

hunger is a thing that they will never know

sat watching humans from down on the beach

to feed the whole family seems well out of reach

epic failure for the 'authority of the air'

as the Provider made sure there's plenty of food there.

Red Shank

Curlew

Dunlin (?)

Home again

Returning to a tractor in a desolate field

same old soil still produces its yield

in slanting sun and wind and rain

she's counting the hours 'til she's home again

the roof tiles wander like some serpentine ridge

still photos on the wall but no magnets on the fridge

where kindness and forgiveness and love still reign

counting the hours 'til he's home again

just as foam gets trapped within the boulders

dust lines the shelves but the hearth still smoulders

here the same two old characters still remain

counting the hours 'til they're home again.

The Cello of Autumn

See how the autumn leaves dance in the wind

strange how beautiful things can be twinned

notes fly in order like a flock of Geese

the mournful sound of the cello brings peace

the sun has set and it begins to get dark

alone in this mansion with the sound of Bach

and memories of summers with Butterflies smitten

as poems blossom forth awaiting to be written

alone with melancholy as it fills the air 

solemn portraits are hanging everywhere

in a state of torpor and lonely repose

as falling petals from summer's last rose.

Torloisk House on the Isle of Mull

Eillean Donan castle over Loch Duoich

Again Someday - a tribute to the Tarbert Hostel

( for Lee and James)

The Tarbert hostel is one of a kind

they're getting increasingly harder to find

you see, hostels like these are a dying breed

as kindness and hospitality is their creed

travellers everywhere would surely grieve

if the day ever came when you had to leave

you're as solid as a lighthouse on a stormy day

let's hope that it always stays that way

a base to explore this wonderful land

mountain sanctuaries and beaches so grand

an island wilderness where you can freely roam

with freshly painted colours or bleak monochrome

beyond the four walls there's a setting sun

where you met different people and had some fun

until time's river had to take you away

just make sure that you return again someday.

KTDA, Marky.