SUSANNAH.ORG.UK
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Poetry
~ here are a few poems I have written ~
The Quiet Ones
It is that time of year again, When the deer steal silently down from the mountain, The frosts descending to the foot of the glen, Earth hard like iron under a starry sky.
In summer they run so wild on the heights, Their dun flanks merging with the slopes of the hill, Gracious company of fleet-footed ones, Lovely as the sun-streaked heather on a day of showers, Pretty as the speckled trout in the shining stream.
But tonight I see them across the darkening acres, Hushed in the woods, their eyes gleaming In the headlights of an approaching car That sweeps past and is gone In the consuming darkness and still evening.
Here in the deep winter, They come foraging, They wait for the distant spring to return once more, They are quiet as a moonlit night.
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Summer Meadow
In the lost country of our abandoned childhood There were no worried parents to watch over us, No rights of way to tell us where to go, But adventure beckoned and the long day of delight. We would troop off to the summer meadow Over the ancient wooden style And down across the grasses The sunlight glistening And all our life a prospect. As my friends pressed on toward the stream, Their voices floating dreamily away, I would lie back and gaze up at the sky Through the undergrowth of green, And watch the scudding softness of the clouds Passing, passing, passing through blue heaven Heaven of the childhood summer afternoon, That drifting now, that timeless never ending, Then stir and wander on alone The whole field flecked with pretty flowers Bright shining buttercups and white loveliness Of little daisies, open and so radiant, Reflecting the radiance, reflecting prettiness Of my own childhood, my own open mind, Before the wind turned cool across my face Clouds bringing shadows, and first Drops of rain at dusk.
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Highland Beauty
Highland beauty, dark one, mo nighean, All day we have laughed and known the close Encounter of attraction and flagrant desire, And I have longed to press against you Hold and enfold you, give myself to your ardour All nature whole and beautiful within you, Your breasts like paps - like the distant paps of Jura - Far off beyond the waters, beyond the cold waters, Remote and out of reach, untouchable. How I would long to sail across those narrows And steal up the silent glen at dusk Between the dark flanks of the shadowy mountains And know you, meet you, in the darkening wilds, Fighting and clashing in the summer evening, Reclusive, lovely and given to one another, On the damp cool earth under glimmering stars. Or play with you all afternoon once more Laugh at your laughter, smile at your smiles And let you splash me in the stream again, Your kisses like wild strawberries, Our bodies pressed together on the hillside As you rise above me in the gleaming sunlight, Forcing me down, face down, in the tangled heather Leaving the stain of bilberries smeared across my lips.
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'And the river flowing...'
The day had dawned grey and overcast, Autumnal showers in the unfrequented corries And silent shroud over still Glen Etive. Skirting the lonely sheep-folds, and ruins of bygone days, I hopped across the lichen-crusted quartz And quiet waters by some turquoise pools - A peace within my heart And the river flowing.
Climbing the ridge, toward the darkening clouds That loomed and lurked on old Ben Starav, I saw an eagle, drift and loiter, Before turning a buttress and soaring out of sight. While far below me in the sullen glen I could see the boulder-fretted rapids Thread in a distant silence down the valley And the river flowing.
On the summit plateau, alone and quite apart, I negotiated the rock-strewn desolation - A scattering of early snow and keening gusts of wind Told me the day was on the turn, the seasons also, The year end beckoning, drawing dark days in - And felt my own life on the move as well, Its drawing in toward the winter night Like a river flowing.
At end of day, long after light had failed And the early evening stars were pricking out In the clearing darkness of a far-flung sky, I tracked the shadowed bends of the River Ba Along all those low meandering miles, with the sad and distant moon Reflecting on its dark and silent surface, Felt that still silence of the deep heart's ceaseless flood And the river always flowing.
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Deep Winter Night in the Hills
The stars shower down on the Highland night The Crab nebula recoils Out through the winter Distance is not the furthest frozen star It is not that receding turmoil of desolate worlds.
Those pretty mountains smile cockily To breezy summer tourists The flight between the seasons is not far Now in the clamorous winter I retire Where rock and winds contend without respite.
This lonely bothy stilled by mountain night Does not seem far from home's familiar stares That warmth the same I must revile At death of dwindling flame In silence hanging like breath chill on the air.
Sitting with you in silence, true love, Distance is just across the candle flame Trying to draw an uncertain smile Sure as the boundless wind or flickering face of shade, We still and remote under the cold inconstant heavens.
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Skye in June
The sound from the pipes lapped away And the girls on the beach danced on to day The diluted dark of the northerly night The pale darkness washing away, Skye in June, cloudy moon Days of passion and delight.
The wind in the corries called us apart MacGregor and I The Cuillin talked to the thoughtful heart Of the fresh dawn of day, And a soft mist hung over Skye On the sea sway.
A wandering sea-gull yesterday Bore me up on the wing, come away come away, And gazing over the summer seas Heard the beckoning song of the Hebrides Legends begun before Ossian's time Echoed in waves and the setting sun.
The longboat breaks the flying spray It is dark and cool I lie on the rocks and wait for your words At a dropping pool, By the bracken fire in the dwindling light You soothe me away and into the night.
Far out to sea in the morning air Life danced on the ocean so boundless and wide, In cold salted breezes dispersing them there Scarcely noticed soft memories retreat with the tide Chilly spray, lonely wilds ~ You're Lord of the Isles.
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