Elgol
Please take me back to this hidden place
where lullabies can find themselves again
where life runs at a different pace
and the poet's busy with his pen
an open secret concealed from your eyes
at the end of a long and potholed road
the 'fool on the hill' was really wise
as that's where the milk and honey flowed
Cuilins peer down from their awesome height
at gentle boats bobbing in the bay
cows pasture in the silvery light
of the rising sun of another day
a gem like this is hard to find
the dusty track please do not berate
life would not all be silver lined
if everything was on a plate
The Milkman
Donny was the Milkman
through the distant mists of time
there wasn't a bad bone in him
he never turned to crime
there was violence all around him
he just whistled to himself
they've just developed atom bombs
and there's more chaos on the shelf
men were being made redundant
it was hard to pay the bills
yet a smile and warm encouragement
were his marketable skills
Donny was the Milkman
it was just another day
the permissive society
will soon be on it's way
dropping pennies in the slush
and trampsing through the snow
the Milkman was oblivious
to the way the world would go
stalwart of the neighborhood
up before the cockerell's call
from young child to old man
the Milkman knew them all
while kids were still in bed
you heard the clinking of the glass
who would have ever thought
that this era would pass
corner shops have gone now
even CD's didn't last
many other things besides
are the tapestry of the past
but are things any better
we all do well to ask
technology can help us
but Donny loved his task
Donny was the Milkman
he doesn't whistle anymore
it's a different world now
the milk's not at your door
there were hundreds at his funeral
they came from far and wide
something special was missing
and every eye there cried.
The Inner voice
You can't climb every mountain
you can't bag every top
you can soon get into trouble
you have to know just when to stop
you can learn from your mistakes
you can try to right the wrong
you can be tough with yourself
you can dance a different song
you can just enjoy the ride
you know you're time will soon be gone
you know some games give you five lives
but this game only gives you one.
Unbelievably, climbing Sgurr nan Gilean on the Isle of Skye, we wandered into the wrong corrie. We spent all our time trying to access the summit ridge, to no avail, although we were only a stones throw away from it! On some of the scrambling routes, there was only a tiny margin of error so we sacked it off. The moral of the story - there are more important things in life than reaching the summit of a mountain. Also, you can enjoy the walk as a whole. We were rewarded with a moment of sheer serendipity towards the end.
The Executioner
An indigo outline of your moonlit tapestry
explored only by bands of wandering cloud
your chiselled peaks and sequestered streams
lay concealed and at peace with their overlord
drawn to you by some sort of invisible thread
the winds of time bring us back to this timeless place
under a nervous truce and your invisible eyes
we steadily ascend at the first light of dawn
pale aprons of scree plunge into your hidden corries
random architecture meanders along your spiky ridge
distant waterfalls remain serene and silent
the warm ember of Sligachan winks in the half light
the staccato rhythm of a myriad footsteps
irresistably drawn to the magnetism of your soul
blithely unaware of the malevolence in your eyes
and a frozen heart that will never thaw!
Ode to the In Pinn
The cruelest conditions on our mild mannered isle
but exploits get sinister when you leave the Kyle
unhinged geology astride its mother fountain
final vestige on a wild and savage mountain
seething malevolence on an inpenetrable front
an exhibitionist on a publicity stunt
just keep to the crest and hold your heading true
but its hard when the wind's got more stamina than you
lurching into the unknown as panic builds inside
this inexplicable rock had a route it could not hide
intrepid climber looks skyward and asks the question "why"?
"fool! Did you not know things get harder when you're on Skye."
A Requiem for St Kilda
i) pastoral, 1726
The men met for daily parliament and morning prayer
a small patch of paradise deep in the Atlantics jaws
peace and liberty hung in the salt scented air
there wasn't any crime there was no need to lock your doors
there were no strangers they all knew each other
decisions were made daily to help those in need
every one a friend and as close as a brother
their only currency was kindness, wool and tweed
always work to do for those who were able
not much variety but always plenty of food
a fire in the hearth and a bible on the table
a cheery platoon and an industrious brood
on sundays the chapel was packed from pulpit to door
the 10 commandments were what they truly lived by
praying as one that their hard times would be no more
a utopian society but under a tumbling sky.
ii) Voyage - August 13th 1727
They were dropped off at the stac on the islands only boat
they would have loved to have more boats if they could
but nothing on Hirta grew higher than a stoat
and a sturdy vessel was always made of wood
the fact that they landed was a miracle in itself
the swell of the tide could be impenetrably high
but the harvest to these boys was the trophy on the shelf
an honour that swept the cobwebs from the sky
like the spires on some kind of fairy tale castle
other- worldly Gannets and Fulmars screeched overhead
to scale these cliffs barefoot to these young lads was no hassle
they knew that seabirds and eggs would keep their families well fed
three men and eight gallant boys who knew no fear
together they made an invincible team
just a fortnight and they'd be back with their loved ones so dear
two weeks would go as fast as two days it would seem
iii) Harvest - August 13th to 27th 1727
Scrambling up the rockface with horsehair ropes and collecting bags
Mackinnnons or Gilleises it didn't really matter
looking on were a distant colony of Shags
if we could see them today our tongue would surely flatter
soon get enough Fulmar oil to light their lamps each night
enough seabirds to dry out in every cleat*
it's about time to light that summit fire so bright
so their loved ones will know they will very soon meet
with those heroic feats of treacherous climbing
all behind them now as they wait patiently on the rock
surely the boat would come with impeccable timing
to return them safely and unite them with the flock
on that morning there was an unusual calm
some of the boys sang an old St Kildan song
they never imagined they could come to any harm
the boat will soon be here, it shouldn't take too long
* A Cleat was a simple stone structure for storing and drying out seabirds.
iv) Marooned - August 27th 1727 to May 27th 1728
But to their abject horror the boat never came
this had never occured before, they all wondered why
had something happened or was it the ocean's cruel game
were they left in this inhospitable place to die
it seemed they were to be there for the duration
they comforted each other with reassuring words
the summit fires were no longer a revelation
but they stitched each others clothes with the feathers of birds
they set about making some stone based tools
and with some bent nails and horse hair, caught a few fish
detached from humanity but certainly not fools
rainwater was imbibed from a strategically placed dish
they built a crude stone bothy to see them through winter
praying every day to be relieved from their plight
but the fires were gradually in want of tinder
and nothing was as fierce as a Hebridean winters night.
v) Rescue - May 28th 1728
Throwing their messages of hope into the sea
it was raw survival but they never gave up hope
yearning for the day when they'd eventually be free
sheer courage and stamina enabled them to cope
the Factor's ship was on its way to collect the rent
skirting the monolith that pierces the sky
to eleven haggard St Kildans it was surely heaven sent
waving frantically as if it was their last battle cry
scanning the ocean but their hopes continually dashed
now from the depths of despair a real hope had arisen
still those gargantuan waves encircled and crashed
but now about to be released from this outrageous prison
hot soup and potatoes made them feel human once more
though nine months of exposure had taken its toll
waving goodbye to their bothy but listless to the core
returning to stone cottages and revival of their soul.
vi) Requiem - August 1727 to May 1728
Eleven St Kildans, not one of them was missing
all hungry for answers for what had gone wrong
they'd certainly be doing a lot of reminiscing
now mother time waits to strike her barbarous gong
how it reached St Kilda no-one really knew for sure
it arrived in a suitcase somebody once said
whatever the case there was no known cure
now almost everybody on the island was dead
an elderly widow and a few orphaned kids
out of the whole community that was all that was left
the children had to close their dear parents eyelids
for now a utopian society lay bereft
it was to empty homes that most of them returned
the modern world had come knocking at their door
that emotional reunion had to be adjourned
as smallpox had shaken the land to its very core.
vii) Rebirth - June 1728 onward
Out of the ashes of doom the Phoenix did rise
and flew over to Harris to help repopulate the land
the pageant of their loved ones hung before their eyes
but now waves of hope were breaking on the sand
over time the direction of the wind had changed
the young children sing a new St Kildan song
those sad reflections were gradually estranged
they held their heads up high, now their fragile hearts were strong
the autumn leaves had fallen but now spring was here
a delicate daybreak of the next chapter in the book
the idyll has re-emerged so there's nothing to fear
islanders in harmony everywhere you look
so the old snake has finally shed its skin
new cottages have been built around the village bay
a ceilidh in the evening with all your kith and kin
there could't be a better way to end a lovely day
viii) Farewell - 1852 to 29th August 1930
As the mural of their future was wistfully unfurled
whaling and fishing fleets started fishing in your waters
there was increasing contact with the outside world
only a matter of time before they took away your daughters
emigration to Australia hit the island hard
after that the population began to decline
breakdown of the economy without an ace card
now the St Kildan parliament had to draw the line
HMS Harebell was waiting but this was no cruise
the 'utopian society' was about to be withdrawn
for a supposed life of luxury, they had nothing to lose
now the storm swept village bay lies empty and forlorn
the young were for leaving but the old ones wanted to stay
so many sad recollections on their lifes darkest night
bibles were open at exodus on the final day
they waved goodbye to their homeland until it had drifted out of sight.
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A Moral
"Fancy coming my way oh dearest lovely fly
come into my palace for we have a knot to tie"
"your invitation Spider, I really do not like
it is well known that you're a fearsome little tyke
" those are the cruelest words ever to be said
you can trust me, please do come and lay upon my bed
rest your aching limbs and drink the finest wine
I give you my word that all things will work out fine
you maybe didn't know I've always admired you
I'm static and can't fly around like you do
enter my kichen there are delicacies so nice
many aphid pies , feel free to have a slice"
"I'm fixed in sheer astonishment at your probing eyes
you look so daunting but at the same time you are so wise
I dont want to get caught where I know I don't belong
it's not my desire to do anything at all wrong"
but the Spider knew full well that the fly it would return
curiousity in his heart he knew would surely burn
temptation that the fly was powerless to resist
the playing out on its mind never did desist
Spider had it planned in that very hour
a succulent fly he was about to devour
a webbed tablecloth was to be his winding sheet
but there wasn't much left after Spider had finished his treat
when we are faced with temptation we can learn from the fly
it's just not worth it for the price is far too high
be happy in what you're doing knowing that it is right
and resist the wily Spider with all your mind and might.
Ode to Highland Cows
Driving in the islands on a single track road
mockings and insults from car drivers overflowed
traffic halted by flowing red locks of Highland pride
life goes on in the Hebridean countryside
with a prod they follow their shepherd, all knowing
with that fringe it's a wonder they can see where they're going
each one a gentle giant weighing almost a ton
void of aggression and all about having fun
you were also in my way but I didn't mind
no more tender animal will you ever find
you've never had it in you to ever have a fight
maybe we're unable to tell what's wong and what's right
we were once following a Shepherd but lost our way
that's why there's so much hate and violence in the world today
they picked a fight with the Shepherd and grabbed the bull by the horns
but I still follow the Shepherd who had the 'crown of thorns'.
Out of the hat
You have reached the summit
but have you conquered the hill?
When you've got back down to the ground
then you've conquered the hill.
you can have a lovely holiday
but when you get home
and cherish your memories
it is even more precious
feel free to stop and take photos
capture that special moment
doesn't matter where you are
you may never be there again.
hikers stop and talk in a remote corrie
in a crowded shopping centre
people pass by obliviously
yet we still need each other.
The Sligachan
Hear them talk about climbing the Cuilins with pride
ambience of a football match but both on the same side
the stigma of reserve doesn't really matter
it soon gives way to much banter and chatter
see the windows being furtively covered with rain
then the hills snap their fingers and and there's blue skies again
against this backdrop for over two hundred years
visitors return again and again it appears
special moments in time that you never forget
reward at the end of the walk you wont regret
conviviality with no difficult bends
'you enter as strangers but come out as friends'
The last line was a slogan on the Sligachan door. It proved true in my case, having a bit of banter with a young lad about how quick we had finished our drinks!
The endeavours of man
We're better off now than we've ever been before
everyones got cell phones and we're trying to help the poor
there's youtube, spotify and netflix on the screen
and flush loos that years ago couldn't have been foreseen
well mankind is living in perpetual fear
as tons of CO2 permeates the atmosphere
the source of your progress is the cause of your demise
such a pity that you listened to the devil's lies
but the supermarkets shelves are stocked full of food
there's a longer life for the greater multitude
we've invented plastic it's versatile through and through
life is pleasurable it's like a dream come true
I can see with your wealth there is an unequal divide
an extreme disconnect where rich and poor collide
was choking marine life one of your goals
and producing in the ozone gaping great holes
please let us probe space more or perhaps under the sea
we could leave our doors unlocked just how it used to be
we could all work together with one common aim
but we refuse to concede that this is the end game
I see that the web that connects you is just far too vast
your day in the sun simply isn't going to last
the price of your so called progress will have to be paid
judgement day is imminent and it wont be delayed.
The path of poetry - Allt na Dùathanais
Aural backdrop of a calming sound
nature's pathways where beauty distills
wildflowers are dancing all around
so please don't race across the hills
take it all in don't go to fast
linger in the glen that sunshine fills
in your heart the moment shall last
so please don't race across the hills
hearbeats of words cascade into dreams
that run until the lochan spills
wending it's way down moonlit streams
please don't race across the hills.
Men of the sea
for Gordon and Alasdair
Squalls blowing surf near proud of the stern
the Skipper instinctively knows which way to turn
white caps are threatening to engulf the bow
but there's no tricks of the ocean that these lads don't know
waves as high as a house and yet they pose no threat
Skipper Alasdair rolls another cigarette
"hey Gordon, grab the wheel and take up the slack
just off for a smoke on deck but I'll soon be back"
they got their sea legs a long time ago now
but if you're sea sick they'll care for you somehow
as Gulls scan the water and Terns spin in the air
their sagacious ethos screams out "we care"
there's a pod of Whales on the edge of the Minch
the boat crashes down, these guys don't even flinch
being on the water is what keeps them calm
when they're out at sea they come to no harm
soon the Hebridean sea will lick its tongue
there are families to feed but they can't be home long
red skies over Harris hills soothes the young mens sorrows
always having the hope of better tomorrows
Guilemots escort their vessel to the shore
but there's no time to tarry they're hungry for more
soon be back behind the wheel where they're meant to be
because Gordon and Alasdair are men of the sea.
At first glance, you have outdone yourself this time, dear Mark. Great photos and the first three poems make you want to read more. But to read them all in a row would seem sacrilegious to me. So I will come back every day and enjoy them all one by one.
ReplyDeleteFor now, thanks a lot and the peace of the night.
I would love to visit St Kilda, but think that my lack of sea legs will prevent it. Awesome post, Mark!
ReplyDeleteRe the Executioner: Interesting one. One ought never to write never, though. ;-)
ReplyDeleteWow. Simply wow. And giving some inspiration to a man so often feeling rather down. I need to look outwards more.
ReplyDelete