I FEEL THE CONTINENTAL DRIFT


I FEEL THE CONTINENTAL                                                       DRIFT

                                              
of                                          shif  ting   geo graphy:
the sun no longer    overhead;
an unfamiliar sea.

A jagged barrier reef surrounds                                                        
                                                                                                                an inaccesible shore
and                    ICE                              –               how thick I do not know
where    water           was        before.

 

Where is that quiet green valley
where       heron       and         kingfisher        flew?
A ridge of stone as bare as bone
BLOCKS IT FROM MY VIEW

 

A flat and recent Sahara
covers remembered   h i l l s
and over the top of  my childhood home
the     lurid     lava         s p   i    l   l  s.

NO feral  forces fed those fires
that swept my past away.
NO howling hurricanes spread those flame
that turned night      to      brightest day.

NO           irresistible           seismic           thrust
pushed  up   that mountain range.
Some   weakness   at        the heart      of things
permitted                                        all                   this                            change.

v l p t


 

When I went for my eye check-up today
after all the puffs of air against my unready eyeballs
and the stinging drops
and the unexpected flashing lights
all I could see were vague blurred shapes.

I made a wild guess
at the last line on the card
and got all the letters right.
v   l   p   t
A little miracle!
It was like winning the lottery
only without the pot of gold
at the end.
But still I felt elated.

Do you believe that perhaps a blind man can somehow see?
I asked the optician.
Come back in a year’s time, he replied.
Remember not to drive till the effects have worn off.

SUMMER


Yes, I remember Hoy.

Hoy m 24-11-2014 21-58-10

A lazy summer’s day,
crossing a stream
below a clump of trees,
knee-deep in ferns,
we heard (but did not see) a golden oriole.

It seemed to be saying
“Put the radio on ”
in lovely lilting liquid notes
“Please put the radio on “
over and over again
“Please please put the radio on “

no sign of irritation
no note of ennui

no hint of weariness

such a sweet song
such a gentle tone
such a calm, sweet nature.

And now
all Anna has to say is
“Put the radio on “

to make me laugh
to lift me out of a dark mood
to make me remember
the sounds of summer
and the feel of  happiness,

Hoy m 24-11-2014 21-58-10

Da Last Plesiosaur



magrittes-idea2oil

Eftir aw dat fechtin,

aw dat movin an hidin an listenin an warnin,

we fund dis lang deep dark loch

awa up idda Nord

whaur at lang last we’d be left tae oorsels,

left in peace.

Or so we thocht .

*

WHWHWHU R R R R Z Z Z

Oot o da blue

*

SSSPPPLAAAASHSHSH

dis muckle chukkie da size o da mune

cam  thunderin doon,

dis muckle stane 

cam whudderindudderinspludderin doon

wheechin us aa,

da hale shebang o us,

muddirsfaidderssistersbruddersdochterssons,

wheechin us aa in ae fell swoop

                             cept me

                                            aa cept me

                                                                    aa except me

*     *     *     *     *

Aa dat wis lang syne,

lang lang syne.

Nooadays A cannae even see

bit still

fae time tae time

A poke ma heid oot o da waatir

oot o da cal dark  waatir

an mak a sort o saft lang moanin soon

OOOOOAWAWAWAWAMMMMPHPHPH

OOOAWAWMMMMPHPH

OOOOOMMMPH

bit der’s niver ony anserin caa,

niver iver.

LANZA NEW

No dat A expect der tae be.

No dat A’d ken whit tae dae

if der wis.

Naebdy bides der noo


 

haunted house Shetland crop

 

Na, nae noo

nae fiddly Aladdin lamps
tae magic awa da darkness;

Nae driftwiddy fire 
tae shoot oot o ilka lum
up intae da velvet-black, spairk-spangled sky
inna flickery, aurora shoor
da cauld
an da damp

an nae bible-black, knapdarlicht kye
tae wrap lang pink tongues
roon skooshy clumps
o sappy green gerss
tae pu an munch an pu an munch
an munch
an pu.

Nae bonny, bouncey bairns noo
tae skip barefitted,
skweelfree,
slaphappy as der day wis lang

ower endless barricap-dotted fields
doon tae and intae
da fish-flashin, selkie-skulkin, boat-bobbin sea.

Na, nae noo,
nae noo.

LA DONNA E MOBILE


You’re never alone

with a mobile phone

gl8

La donna è mobile
Qual piuma al vento,
Muta d’accento — e di pensiero.
Sempre un amabile,
Leggiadro viso,
In pianto o in riso, — è menzognero.
È sempre misero
Chi a lei s’affida,
Chi le confida — mal cauto il cuore!
Pur mai non sentesi
Felice appieno
Chi su quel seno — non liba amore!

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
jasc ponte

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888

2222222222222222222222222222222222222222

6666666666666666666666666666666666666666

Copy of red dress 1mm

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555

4444444444444444444444444444444444444

66666666666666666666666666666666666666666

GRK

 

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

festb

windows to the soul


 
There's no art
to find the mind's construction in the face....



Anna 1
sometimes what's outside 
appears to be inside
and
of course
vice-versa
like when someone smiles
(" And some that smile have in their hearts, 
I fear,
Millions of mischiefs..")
and doesn't mean it...
or nods
and puts a friendly arm around your shoulders
while fingering beneath their toga
the not so friendly dagger
(" Et tu, Brute!" )

Yes,
people who live in glass houses
are seldom found
but people who live in blocked-up rooms
are all around.
embracrop xc

Flower Power


There is a Flower, the Lesser Celandine,
That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain;
And, the first moment that the sun may shine,
Bright as the sun himself, ’tis out again!     (Wordsworth)

hossoil 8

This is a stream
a rivulet
a brook
a burn
on whose banks you’ll  find

the lesser celandine
figwort
ficaria ranunculus
a favourite
of  both William Wordsworth
and David Herbert Lawrence

and ferns
pillwort
pteridophytes
osmundas
which purify the soil
cure centipede bites
soothe coughs and wheezes

and foxgloves
dead men’s bells
digitalis purpuria
floppy dock
fairy fingers
which are  diuretics
appetite depressants
cures for dropsy
and can
by
s l o w i n g
down
t h e
heart   r a t e
c  u  r   e      o  r
k   i   l   l  .

*    *    *    *

She found the celandines of February
Always before us all. Her nature and name
Were like those flowers, and now immediately
For a short swift eternity back she came.

(‘Celandine’ by Edward Thomas)

Time Passes


Time passes.
 
Ab 9
 
 
an anxious woman in white
stands on the river bank waiting
don’t worry about me, she had said cheerily
as they rode off into the sunrise
enjoy yourselves
and they didn’t
and they did
 

Abb 2

Time passes.
The three horses 
one white
one brown
one chestnut
bring the the three daughters
safely back
to the rock in the river
where the woman in white
is no longer waiting.

 

Poetic Love


STOP ALL THE CLOCKS

Copy of moldau pica bb

Tom’s romantic nature meant that he suffered more than most when a relationship came to an end  but all the same I was shocked and saddened to see him so gaunt and woebegone.

” So. What are you doing with yourself these days? ” I asked him brightly.

He laughed a bitter laugh and spread his arms to emphasize his outcast  state.  ” I wander lonely as a cloud, ” he said.” I look upon myself and curse my fate. “

I put a counselling arm round his shoulder. ” You’ve got to get over Elizabeth sometime, ” I told him. ” I mean she’s married now. You’ve got to let go off  the past, Tom. Live in the present. “

He shook his head. ” Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, ” he said gruffly, ”  or bends with the remover to remove.  It is – ”
” – But she’s pregnant! ” I interrupted. He smiled, a tired little smile in response to my shallowness.

” Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” he said softly, a quiver in his voice.   

” Listen, is there anything I can do to help? ” I asked, beginning to feel quite depressed myself.

He stood silent for a long time, head bowed and  shoulders slumped, then  straightening up and  looking at me with tears in his eyes, shook his head.
 

” Pour away the ocean, ” he said bravely,  ” sweep up the wood,  for nothing now can come to any good.