A poem in your eyes

You can fake a smile with your mouth but you can't with your eyes

they interpret all your thoughts and never tell any lies

like peering through a secret window into your heart

I see sorrow, sometimes angst, but may love never depart

the warmth and the laughter like cherry blossoms in June

but the honey scented dewdrops disappeared so soon

although ideas and inspiration soon make amends

I can see when you're sad you think you don't have any friends

in the back of your mind I notice a stiring of doubt

then a new thought crossed your eyes and the old one peters out

as the raindrops collide and roll down my own window pane

your dimples come out and the light of hope shines forth again.

Brutal immersion

I feel verbally periphrastic and emphatically inflected!

All the Scottish Gaelic neuters have now been rejected

the possesive determiners didn't know what to do

so it seems like the accusative case form is now through

the suffixes stood resolute and refused to flatten

the adverbs of course clung to their declensional pattern

just then I realised I left my syntax back at home

and now there's no place for traditional grammar to roam

conjugated prepositions gathered in complex form 

as the trigger words attacked to slenderize the norm

but the emphatic pronouns aspectually held fire

as the nominative case form semantically grew higher

typological paradigms lenited their stare

the inalienable adjecives didn't really care

an odd copula verb will always hide behind a noun

some things are subjunctive but don't let that get you down.

The man with the twinkle in his eye (in memory of Jeff , 1937 - 2023)

Jeff was a man who had a twinkle in his eye

but is there anybody who really knows why?

A crafty pint here and there, full of mischief and fun

in his company your spirit would rise like the sun

we'd talk cameras or maybe music would hold sway

still there are memories about Jeff that wont fade away

in a 48 year long marriage he was a godsend

but the leaf that was once green had to turn brown in the end

he made me laugh from the very first day we met

now at the end of the day the sun has to set.

so they say that Jeff always had a twinkle in his eye

but only the 'Window Cleaner' ever really knew why!

Dealan - dè ( lightning of God)

With that first kiss the falling blossom swooned in pride

an iridescent flare tore across a tumbling sky

but storm clouds were rolling in from the world outside

and you chose an unpredictable path to fly

just then a thunderbolt reached out to touch the ground

so you gently melted into the trembling grass

the atmosphere is charged with electric all around

and soon our romance will have to reach an impasse

I still see you fluttering with undeniable charm

oblivious of the beauty of your very own wings

you danced with lightning though you never meant any harm

then moved on again as the angelic choir sings

with soothing luminousity you were regaled

hung around a while to see which way the wind would blow

the Great Artist succeeded where our words had failed

just another failed romance a long time ago.

In Scottish Gaelic, Butterfly is translated as Dealan dè , which literally means 'lightning of God'. I can only assume it must be referring to the Brimstone butterfly that is a luminous yellow and has a very irregular flight pattern.

      Brimstone (male)

Slowly

Seasons come and quickly go

clouds rolled in like a stage curtain

can anybody really know

the weather when it's so uncertain

seasons came and quickly went

you opened your heart and showed me

the sheep dogs energy is spent

still the gorse moves across the hills...

...slowly.

The Riverside Inn

Butterflies cycling now they've each found a mate

the scent of cow parsley absorbs the chatter

what was on your mind doesn't really matter

now that the sunshine's not going to abate

stately swans passing on a river of calm

a flock of geese looking for somewhere to land

I guess we all have to draw a line in the sand

so the pressures of life don't cause any harm

last day in May and not a cloud in the sky

children playing without a worry or care

being together there are joys you can share

before the leaves all turn brown and summer's gone by.

     Riverside Inn - Southrey, Lincs. Perfectly situated on the cycle track to Boston.

             Common Blue - female

For a Damsel

A harmonious courtship gliding through the air

straight lines of blue thread hanging within your stare

skimming the surface of everlasting life

a radiant jewel and enigmatic wife

spring and summer, sisters of the same season

yield with grace, for a secretly disclosed reason

in tacit compliance, autumn weaved its crafty frame

winter's long and cold but spring will soon come again

laying your eggs on those lilly pads once more

where the music of your dreams illuminates the score

catching bugs in the air and flexing your tail

where wealth and fortune will ultimately fail

when the time approached to say goodbye, you cried

and caressed souvenirs that time couldn't hide

death's a prison that's firmly locked when you're own life flees

but fear not, I know well the holder of the keys.

           Common Blue Damsels, mating

                                         Blue Tailed Damsel

          Large Red Damsel

      Willow Emerald

Musings on the Parph peninsular

Distant sentinels stand in the dimming light

as a Short Eared Owl winged across the night

silence between the mountains is filled with mauve

from where a winding burn tries to find its cove

scented lillies on a loch without a name

under pastel tones of the sunset's orange flame

soft incantations can be heard over the kyle

as I linger near the bridge of lilac for a while

the sun sank slowly across the ocean's bars

harbinger to the twinkling of myriads of stars

the wind sings in the hills like a human presence

on floating flashbacks of iridescence

as we roll out the mural of our journey

day to day matters no longer concern me

days in the hills seem to be all sown together

where a fleeting moment seems to last forever.

I'mpossible

When this hill wins it always punctures your pride

although gravity is certainly never on your side

powering down on pedals is all that you can do

with tightly gripped handlebars constantly in view

to feel a pounding heart and lungs on fire 

as the gradient gets inextricably higher

with focus and contol you could smash it this time

in the lowest gear at the start of the climb

so, is this hill an enemy or is it a friend?

Well, I'm sure you'll both shake hands when you reach the end

was once deemed impossible, I even thought 'why try'

until I put a comma just after the I'

                                               Motherby Hill - Queen of Lincoln's hills

   

                                       Jack and the beanstalk hill!! 

                                                From the top - you've won !!!!

             

Exercise Patience (Eacharsaich Foighidinn)

The last week of June, even the weather was kind

a blessing indeed to be with obedient mankind

to see all those happy faces all around

in a bubble of harmony where joy was profound

what a soothing serenity it has really been

so much different from being in front of a screen

a long time for sure but old friendships were made new

old pals were refreshing as the morning dew

having Gods word expounded brought us to tears

as we embraced each other after four long years

illuminating our pathway after what we had heard

our future lies ahead - as free as a bird.

       
 Lament for  Donald

A peso of sun in a bleak tract of land

illuminates the bulk of Ben Hope so grand

towering above the farmstead of Caisheal Dhu

where the sweet river ran and the wind always blew

Donald was the father he was in control

getting sheep to market was always his goal

the small town of Lairg was very far away

but he was always back by the end of the day

next day on the tractor with one of his ploughs

or building a new barn for his  Highland cows

fixing the fence so that the deer could'nt get through

from morning to evening always something to do

when children came along it was just another day

midst the fragrance of cornfields and freshly mown hay

Donald thinks of his kids every now and then

as his sheep dogs chase the wandering ewes off the ben

it was Ma that taught the children how to read

doted on them and cared for their every need

the teacher, the home maker, so full of gumption

but even she was no match for consumption

commited she always was to the struggle to survive

but all the bees weren't going to die in the same hive

the children wept until they could weep no more

after which they packed their bags and went off to war

because, to Donald, raising his children came second

especially at harvest time or when lambing beckoned

primroses bowed their heads around his fields of corn

but Donald was too busy, he had no time to mourn

then one day Donald felt a sharp pain in his chest

the sun slowly sank behind the hills in the west

the church bell at Erribol sombrely rang its bell

but for Cashiel Dhu it spelt the final death knell

wild flowers still flourish to feed the hungry bees

the house remains locked but no-one has the keys

looking through the windows cobwebs span for miles

with nobody to fix the fences and the styles

time honoured shadows will always leave their mark

it's been decades since there was a light in the dark

so there it stands, a vacant stare without a sound

nothing but emptiness lying all around.

We wandered around these empty buildings during a bike ride. I couldn't help but think what life must really have been like in the 1930's , to have lived in such a wild and harsh environment. Didn't mean  to be so bleak but Charles Dickens would have been proud of me!

                     

One summer dream

A merry tune with flowers

sunshine on a leafy lane

rainbows and heavy showers

daisies on the lawn again

sweet peas were climbing fences

butterflies were all around

cats layed down their defenses

wrens were singing on the ground

rivers always reach the sea

who knows what's round the next bend

every bird yearns to be free

every summer has to end

harps plucked on innocent strings

on the day she went away

they say love believes all things

maybe she'll come back one day.

      Marbled White

Sunbathing

When I'm old I'll still look exactly the same

seven long weeks as we approach the end game

life on a flower petal in summer's dense heat

the pollen was golden and the nectar was sweet

                                      when I was sunbathing

as the sun surreptitiously moved to the west

right down to the end I was always at my best

onlookers were spellbound by my orange haze

they would never know I was at the end of my days

                                         when I was sunbathing

so the time finally came for some shelter to find

leaving lawn mowers and childrens laughter behind

eventually we all have to go to sleep

but my offspring wont have any time to weep

                                            when they're sunbathing.

      Comma - sunbathing and posing!

For the Heron ( Corra - Ghritheach )

The Heron is patient  ( tha an Corra - Ghritheach foighidneach)

Spear fishing on stilts on a nearby loch

the epitome of patience waits upon a rock

due to the timely response of your craving eye

your lifeline will always be in plentiful supply

The Heron is still (tha an Corra - Ghritheach fhathast )

for hours on end you stand perfectly still

but when the time is right you go in for the kill

statuesque and elegant though both regal and sleak

eventually rewarded by the fish in your beak

The Heron is quiet ( tha an Corra -Ghritheach sàmhach )

natural rhythm in a silent bar of nature

a quiet authority, the avian Sergeant Major

then concentration doubled and totally alert

in awe of your mastery you're about to assert

The Heron is wise ( tha an Corra - Ghritheach glic )

the course of wisdom is to always hunt alone

going around in pairs you'll make yourselves known

at the first sign of discord you'll head for the skies

yes Heron, you're vigilante but nature you are wise!

Sean Fhacail (wise words)

i) The Harlequin

       

    Alone in an antiquarian library

    the aroma of old books

    I pull a random book off the shelf

    blow the dust off the spine

    thumb through the pages

    don't recognise the author

    place the volume back from where it came

    I'm sure it will stay there for a long time.

ii) True Friends

    True friends are like rocks,

    under crashing waves of betrayal 

    the rocks are submerged

    but when the tide recedes

    the rocks haven't moved

iii) Serendipity

     We went in search of something purple

      but found something better

      what we  found we didn't set out to look for

      though it was the most beautiful thing ever

      and serendipity... is a wonderful word.

       

iv)  For all Mothers

          

       When a baby cries

       you want to comfort the infant

       but in spite of your best efforts

       the baby is still uncomfortable

       then the Mother comes along

       in an instant all is well

       Mother always knows.

 v) Books or Technology

      You search for one thing

       but find many things

       immersed in various tangents

       but technology takes you straight there

       like an arrow hitting its target.

    

    

      The  Harlequin, Steep Hill, Lincoln . Now closed down! (4th steepest hill in UK 🚴‍♀️)

         

           we went in search of Purple Emperors but found a rare Comma ab.Suffusa!

     'true friends are like rocks'

Different World

I saw muir burning on the hills for the very first time

while crofters were hanging their washing on the line

I saw cataracts of waterfalls bereft of a name

as deer were locking horns, but this was no game

I saw cloud covered lochans astride fairy tale hills

connected by streams where the overflow spills

I saw snow capped mountains that demanded to be climbed

towering over empty glens forever etched on your mind

I saw golden sunsets that set the sky on fire

as the lure of poetry got inexplicably higher

I felt the pulse of the land and heard an unknown tongue

portraying the struggle of the land and the solace they long.

Flight

Being hill fit was part of your eminent power

indefatigable prowess at this perilous hour

a frumpy old maid stuck in ubiquitous bog

you'll soon be crossing the minch, that'll be a hard slog

reluctant to get out of your womanly attire

for fear the price on your head would get even higher

you had to admit it wasn't a dignified escape

only after Culloden did your plans start to take shape

your name is all over any maps of the north

but your rulership of Britain never blossomed forth

Flora was given a locket as something to remember

on that eventful day at the end of september.

The Peak

Onward to 'the peak' with indomitable youth

the sun shone with angelic clarity down in the glen

scrambling like a Rock Badger with no fear of exposure

looking down on bites of beaches that fringe a turquoise sea

the view from the summit was utterly resplendant

as still as a photograph it didn't look real

you lingered a while to try and take it all in

but the inevitable time came for the gradual descent

then the clouds formed a union and took the summit by stealth

but you can handle that now because you're on your way down

years galloped on by in a knee jerking descent

only now are you aware of the rigidity of the clock

the shadowplay of fallen masonry obscured your vision

no-one ever thought that the sky could fall down

the sun of old age set and darkness re-arranged things

but you remember reaching 'the peak' through the mists of time.

What are we?

We are fascinating

you can read us like newspapers

there are no two of us exactly the same

we are a window into another world

on rare occasions we get things wrong

but we're nearly always right

we are often consulted

we are heavily relied upon

we are very hard to make

but perhaps you ought to give it a try

then you would appreciate us all the more.

Keeping the dream alive ( KTDA )

Keeping a dream alive that refused to die

in some Highland lodge under a northern sky

a sagacious team ethos, in stone it was written

once you've tasted it you're forever smitten

thumbing back through photos over many a year

unyielding laughter that will always be held dear

basking in whimsical times of April fun

when the promise of a good day rose with the sun

it could be cold outside but a fire burned within

this warmth caused a natural bond to begin

a stroupach in the morning overlooking the loch

then at tea around the table as sheep of one flock

the kitchen was always a hubbub of chatter

when we got home we missed all the clatter

when metallic blue skies seemed to be the norm

and everybody seemed to be on good form

changing colours in the glen, that's nature's call

but eventually the autumn leaves had to fall

we feel the absence in our hearts but pray that you thrive

but just promise me one thing  - you'll 'keep the dream alive'.

KTDA and one love, Marky.