Stepping Stones

You fashioned your world for the sun to shine
door always open, awaiting the sign
you know there were good times that you left behind
tho with each leap of faith true joy you will find
sometimes you're whole world can be in a mess
but failure can shape your future success
because you built on a rock that's here to stay
so yesterday's sorrow no longer holds sway
see ideas protrude through the humdrum of life
keep looking forward don't be a 'Lot's Wife'
you can jump across the stones with a heavy sack
tho you'll be more fleet of foot with the load off your back
because everything's 'here' and 'everything's 'now'
just focus on the route and keep to your vow
stepping stones spaced across deep mountain streams
let reality weave the goals of your dreams

Seashells

the taciturn sea reveals it's secrets
like glistening shields of Ambrosia's hand
a receeding tide brings a ribbon of Tellins
beguilled by matchless symmetry on the sand

petals of innocence held between my fingers
I can still see the look of joy on her face
gleefully scribbling her name on the beach
but then it would disappear without a trace

a crisp morning breeze and childhood vanished
now the scent of rotting seaweed hangs in the air
over time the seashells all disappeared
tides come and go with nothing in their lair

in everyone the child is deep down within us
one day the seashells may appear once more
lamenting a return of what may never be
but who knows what lies on the vast ocean floor.

Iris

He was a keen Fisherman
she had no interest in fishing
she didn't even like fish
but she was pleased to see him happy

they had a campervan
it was always very cold
she didn't like to be cold
but their holidays were always happy

she had no hobbies
hardly ever read a book
seldom never watched telly
but her children were always happy

in her twilight years
she had some time of her own
many people would come to see her
because Iris made everybody happy.

Always

I'll always be the stone
to stop the papers blowing away

I'll always be a rock
when you've had a bad day

I'll always be the glue
to hold your thoughts together

I'll always be the rudder
when we're lost in stormy weather

I'll always be the compass
when we're all at sea

I'll always be high as a kite
when you are here with me

I'll always catch your smile
and wipe away each frown

I'll always be your anchor
but I'll never weigh you down.

Behind the Mask

Don't expect to find any answers here
you've got every reason to be in fear
you must keep your eyes firmly fixed on the prize
you can see it clearly when you close your eyes

words are easily flawed but your eyes are not
dehumanizing too was part of the plot
just faceless cogs in someone elses machine
staring back at a blank television screen

I exhort you to speak to me with your eyes
promises were made so there will be some lies
like scattered blossoms our own thoughts will be
trying to open a door without a key

behind the mask I see your innocence speaks
like the tears that are running down your cheeks
through a masquerade that fooled all our peers
but we can see the hope beyond the tears.

a family oblivious to social distancing!

The Book

As a child I had a book that I always held dear
on my bedside cabinet it was forever near
see my name on the fly leaf written in childish style
like the aroma of fresh coffee it still makes me smile
now the intoxicating scent of musty pages
takes me back through the chapters of different ages
if only I had always held that book dear
then calamity may not always have been near
still, the odd phrase or sentence keeps coming back to mind
even now my future could still be silver lined
I never understood the book but knew it was a treasure
it was written in a tongue that's not our common measure
surely there is someone who can help me understand
guide me through the pages and hold me by the hand
as this old world's hatred leaves it's indellible stain
I think it's time I got the book back off the shelf again.

Ashy Mining Bee

Tarbert, Isle of Harris

The Forge

I looked doom and foreboding square in the face
as friendhip was forged on a backbone of steel
the bellows effortlessly pumped out time
as the hammer met the anvil sparks did fly

the meeting shaped the future of our lives
what was cast in iron was etched in stone
we proudly held aloft the weapons of our war
and tempered our heroics as the sparks flew high

the furnace remained perpetually hot
ignorance was the protection that set us free
through beads of sweat we boldly laughed at risks
an unbreakable bond as the sparks shot high

gradually the sun fell behind the hills
still the forge held on to a fiesta of red
bellows have gone the distance, anvil's gone cold
the hammer's on the wall now the sparks don't fly.

Fools march on

Fools march on into the land of decoration
crossing the line as the pride of the nation
such bravery, as one with all their mind and might
arresting young families in the middle of the night
hear the commotion as the little children cry
carry on fools, poke their Father in the eye
a fire has been started now it's the final shout
you can sling them in prison but more will come out
so march on fools, fight the battle you can't win
we wont fight with weapons just our peace that's within
so go and beat that Danish Christian with a rod
but please understand, you'll soon be meeting his God!

Flashes of Childhood

six years old sat outside the Headmistresses office
once again my eye is drawn to the bookcase
row upon row of neat and glossy volumes
and since then I've always had a love of books

we were crying because of the bracing cold
but distracted by the awesome sea
splashing about and having fun in the waves
oblivious to the cold and biting wind

meticulously mounting stamps in an album

not just meaningless pieces of paper

in a wonderful manner it opened up the world

such a pity children don't collect stamps anymore

Summer holidays never seemed to end

every day the sun beemed endlessly

of course it did rain, we just didn't notice it

and Summer holidays ended, as did childhood.

Reflections on a Silver Y moth

Fluttering partakers of a lesser praise

in the sweeping silence of yesterdays wood

harvesting highlights from some beautiful days

communion with nature is always good

a gasp of colour breathtakingly designed

with delicate wings in the long dewy grass

sun beaming through the trees is etched on my mind

the Silver Y moth's in a different class

intricate, beautiful but clumsy and weak

how the tears of lavender rustle and sway

drunken merriment in the nectar they seek

echoing quietly thoughts of yesterday.

This and that

If having to queue at a supermarket

or being denied a holiday

is taking away your freedom

what must it be like to be in prison?

an unplanned bike trip at the height of a pandemic

no guaranteed accomodation or shower

but they were young

and I also did stupid things when I was young

hours of slogging up a mountain

passing many false summits

slowly the gradient flattens

in the distance is a heap of stones

she would keep me waiting for hours

never late until the bus had gone

but think about how many books I had read

and how much music I had listened too.

sometimes we just do not know

what the outcome is going to be

so we have to be patient

but nobody likes not knowing

On sighting a Sea Eagle on Eabhal

The view positively exploded in scale

never had the sky been so blue

or the mountain so vivid

completely void of anxiety and fear

the Sea Eagle drifts on therms of peace

and circles on waves of majestic pride

sunbeams brush Meadow Pippits off the rocks

they leave their homes in stark obedience

but the rabbits didn't heed the warning

the Eagle's focus gradually sharpened

it's descent was swift and accurate

from deep within the purple heather came a shriek!

Berneray

(for Chris and Mary, John's Bunkhouse)

being surrounded by the songs of the sea

in a theater of birds wherever they may be

so freely does Berneray open her arms

the unsung island with machair laden farms

you don't need cosmetics to make your face shine

those finer notes are like the most beautiful wine

where your feet fall on hills as light as a feather

as the wind blows the sand on the purple heather

boats are in the harbour cockles are in the bay

the turquoise tranquility is here to stay

in a place where you don't have to lock your cars

houses are secure without locks or bars

your feet are on the land but your head's in the sky

the future's unwritten but the past doesn't lie

so wander on blithely and wander on free

forever surrounded by the songs of the sea.

Twilight 

Silhouetted mountains on an orange sky

so many years have now floated on by

I can no longer cross the bridge of shadows

where promises were made in time's short hollows

cellos mournfully play the lyrics of time

on a plinth of dreams where your thoughts don't align

through the haze faces smile on a forgotten beach

painting roses for loved ones where the dark cannot reach

emerald soaks the glens, changing colour by the second

gold dusts the hills where the endless sea loch beckoned

the Sandman will vanish at the first sign of light

but melancholy sinks into the silence of the night.

The distance

slowly counting the contour lines, crumpled in the fold

as I hold a creased and torn sheet of ragged paper

scanning every grid square, you can even feel the cold

rain splattered compass and another crazy caper

the maps show the places that I still want to explore

I know Ordnance Survey will always show me the way

to secluded corners where I've never been before

a tumbling waterfall or a secret sandy bay

life is like a wilderness, without a map you're lost

unseen boggy sections fringed with sharp and jagged rocks

chartering an untamed land you have to count the cost

trying to thread your way through a myriad of lochs

there is a Cartographer who will never let you down

the 'General Information' even shows he cares

corries keep their colour as He always keeps his crown

to help you go the distance - the space between the squares.

Haiku- Eyes

you talk with your mouth

but when you smile with your eyes

your whole face lights up.

Twigonometry

X went to meet Y on a parallel line

both stood there waiting anxiously for the sine

on the curve of a graph they were ones of the elect

but they should have met on lines that intersect

wandering round in circles heaving a sigh

they thought that this meeting would be a piece of pi

a square on the hypotenuse, a slice of heaven

like that beloved fraction 22 over 7

things didn't add up they knew they were divided

by the common denominator by which they were guided

they subtracted their losses but at the end of their tether

but had to cosine a pledge that they would stay together

so they went to see Z, who never really cared

whether E or any other number equalled MC squared

"you must realise" said Z, "our families have square roots

therefore don't go off at a tangent, go fill your boots"

they saw Z from an angle they'd never seen before

equilateral on all sides and loyal to the core - 

on parallel lines their meeting could never attain

on intersecting lines they'd meet once but never again.

I think only a small percentage of Blogfans will like this poem....ow hick!!!

Isle of Vallay

Cows plod on their way through eternal fog

away from miles of ubiquitous bog

where human static has faded away

they can have fun on the sands of Vallay

a herd of Cows walking across the sand

slow old plod in a kaleidoscope land

sad eyes reach the end of a drowsy day

now they'll pasture on the fields of Vallay

sea faring tackle dumped where it belongs

like monophonic strains of Gaelic songs

tides of time will bring warm succour we pray

in life's slow pace on the Isle of Vallay

you'll graze on kelp of the finest order

call of Motherhood will be your border

linger here until time calls you away

from the sweet deserted Isle of Vallay.

we were stopped in our tracks when we saw hundreds of Cows walking across Hosta beach. Twice a year the Mcdonalds escort their stock to the deserted Isle of Vallay, a distance of two and a half miles at low tide.

Turquoise (to be read slowly)

a sprinkling of clouds make watermarks upon the sand - waves are gently lapping the shore - corridors of sunshine dance on a kaleidoscope sea

turquoise

can you feel it's warming joyful effect? - like a rose that wont stop opening - or the gentle lilt of a Mother's lullaby

turquoise

can you sense a steady rhythm of excitement growing? - positive thoughts are beginning to blossom - serenity is filing away any harmful thoughts

turquoise

you regain the energy to rise above - confidence begins to exude from you - and with confidence comes hope ... like watermarks on the sand and waves gently lapping the shore..

turquoise.

Slioch

I sat atop of Slioch

and watched the world below

people look so confused

wondering which way to go

the world is peaceful here

as I look down Loch Maree

amidst a jumble of peaks

there's noone here but me

I lingered on the summit

and saw an Eagle in flight

it observed everything

even I was in his sight

fast abide the flowing burn

as it tumbles in the loch

a body of pure water

at the height of amarok

many Hikers come and go

mountain men old and new

reflecting on the summit

oo'er the fields of Kinlochewe

I pressed on at my own pace

knew I had to count the cost

but alone in my own head

I thought of friends I'd lost

on the ground there is unrest

the Eagle is still in flight

his eyes notice everything

as fierce as the night

behold the mighty Slioch

the mountain stands alone

alas the Golden Eagle

You are never on your own.

On Cockle beach alone at night

walking along Cockle beach at night alone

gathering my thoughts now that the bird has flown

under the graceful radiance of twinkling stars

a flotilla of isles like scattered memoirs

stood in a pencil drawing sketched thick and fast

reflecting on the shades you know cannot last

the moon makes patterns on the surface of the water

like bygone smiles of a long lost daughter

a flock of Seagulls screeching as they land

calling names of ancestors buried in the sand

like fleeting moments of joy cocooned in your mind

from an unwritten poem when life was kind

whispers of reality are never far away

you have to step back into the world someday

the fairy tale will have to enhance it's disguise

hush! The night wind will give birth to a new sunrise.

endnote - I'm well aware there are one or two misdemeanours like photos in the middle of poems! But this is the new Blogger, it is not user friendly at all. Hence I figured it was the course of wisdom to quit while I'm ahead rather than risk wrecking the whole lot!