mark-motherland - Hello Poetry

A Mayfly said to his mate "I've been searching for algae for 5 minutes it was such a long time most of my life has gone by" a Painted Lady said to his mate "do you realise we've been waiting a whole day! It took so long for our friends from Spain to arrive most of our lives have gone by" A Wren said to her chicks "you're going to have to fend for yourselves now! I've looked after you for a whole month and most of my life has gone by" an old Oak tree stretched out it's branches "I've been in this wood for over a hundred years and I have seen many things come and go yet when I think back it seems just like 5 minutes"

0

Jul 25, 2021

Jul 25, 2021 at 10:38 AM UTC

mark-motherland

5 Minutes

A Mayfly said to his mate "I've been searching for algae for 5 minutes it was such a long time most of my life has gone by" a Painted Lady said to his mate "do you realise we've been waiting a whole day! It took so long for our friends from Spain to arrive most of our lives have gone by" A Wren said to her chicks "you're going to have to fend for yourselves now! I've looked after you for a whole month and most of my life has gone by" an old Oak tree stretched out it's branches "I've been in this wood for over a hundred years and I have seen many things come and go yet when I think back it seems just like 5 minutes"

16

Voiceless whispers yearning to be normal shops staring back at you in thoughtful mood a desperate jogger who can't be informal in case, into his private space you intrude distrustful of every other single person living in dread that you're going to break the law fearing that conditions are going to worsen like a wave of the sea that daren't land on the shore gusts of bygone days calmly sweep on by while happiness was left on a razor's edge with a booming stock market and more pie in the sky and promises that could not renew their pledge in bars and cafès hang painted silhouttes a deserted High Street that was once the fast lane seeing your hopes dashed again as another sun sets but how long before the bridge breaks under the strain?

0

Apr 5, 2020

Apr 5, 2020 at 2:56 PM UTC

mark-motherland

Yearning to be normal

Voiceless whispers yearning to be normal shops staring back at you in thoughtful mood a desperate jogger who can't be informal in case, into his private space you intrude distrustful of every other single person living in dread that you're going to break the law fearing that conditions are going to worsen like a wave of the sea that daren't land on the shore gusts of bygone days calmly sweep on by while happiness was left on a razor's edge with a booming stock market and more pie in the sky and promises that could not renew their pledge in bars and cafès hang painted silhouttes a deserted High Street that was once the fast lane seeing your hopes dashed again as another sun sets but how long before the bridge breaks under the strain?

16

chattering like youths in undulating flight that looping the loop was an awesome sight your peers eat mostly worms and insect fayre yet you catch Damsels as they fly through the air! Then returning to patient stones in the loch to plan your next sortie and feed your young stock cataracts of grey in yellow cascade I appoint you Queen of the fashion parade.

0

Nov 2, 2019

Nov 2, 2019 at 5:10 PM UTC

mark-motherland

For a Grey Wagtail

chattering like youths in undulating flight that looping the loop was an awesome sight your peers eat mostly worms and insect fayre yet you catch Damsels as they fly through the air! Then returning to patient stones in the loch to plan your next sortie and feed your young stock cataracts of grey in yellow cascade I appoint you Queen of the fashion parade.

8

streams stay on the hills a husband stays with his wife rivers reach the sea.

0

May 29, 2019

May 29, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC

mark-motherland

Haiku - Loyalty

streams stay on the hills a husband stays with his wife rivers reach the sea.

3

Part One - Missing presumed dead Apparently Alec was missing presumed dead at least that was what the obituary said how then he got married is still a mystery life after a very dark period of history Jane plodded head down through another long day solitude complete in a strange kind of way while Kestrels are tacked to an untamed sky she screams "Dear Lord wont you please tell me why" young Alec stood well over six foot tall legs full of shrapnell disfigured and all willing to give all for a meagre days pay a young man with half of his face blown away Shepherdess Jane sat under sad twinkling stars it was plain to see she had her own mental scars the Ferryman's Daughter, she was so kind different from the others, Jane was blind when the bells of victory began to ring forth it was too much for Alec, he headed up North up to the North where the bronze fields shone but Alec's old personality had gone there in the North a young Shepherdess called Jane did dry Alec's tears and soothed his deep pain Her voice rolled over hills in a plaintive wave as they assumed Alec lied in an unmarked grave In time they married, Jane bore Alec a Son but talk about the war, Alec would have none all that he said was "between you and me.. I've seen things that no man should ever see" flashbacks in his mind of the dead still ringing offset by his young Wife's ethereal singing somewhere around the Somme young Alec lay dead at least that was what the obituary said. Part Two - The Ferryman The Ferryman vowed he would find his girl he picked some roses to place in the top room searched high and low to find his precious lost pearl swore he would have her back before the flowers bloom treated like a slave, a young girl in her prime the Brothers got away Jane was left behind her body it did whither through the passing of time She was different from the others, Jane was blind worked as a Milkmaid her hands would get so sore under constant threats she still searched for the spark work never done a family waits on the shore although Jane was blind she could see in the dark the moon shone bright on the path to the Ferry House the gusts picked up on the night Jane ran away salty wind and sea shanty's awakened the grouse as Jane finally gets her break from the play He scoured every square inch of the land yet couldn't ask why? Or search into his past at the Wayfarers Inn they'd got it all planned released from a cruelty that could no longer last the night the Father died Gaelic psalms they sang a lonely house still stands like a watch to nature's will when they buried the Ferryman the church bells rang the flowers in the attic, they stand there still. Part three - The Inn (recapitulation) The Ferrymans lantern swung in the pouring rain he heard that his Daughter had made it to the Inn the audience sang to the Drovers refrain midst discarded cigarettes, rolling dice and gin Jane had long picked brambles from thorn covered vines lived an intoned existence yet she had her plans though Jane was blind she could read between the lines a chance to escape, she grabbed it with both hands the Inn's cosy light shone at the end of the lane to Whiskey Jack, Jane's elopement had come to light she had nothing to lose and everything to gain Jane's now with Alec and has recieved her respite see him dramming away yarns, bereft of what's true then screaming his lies to the starry sky above but tidal subtleties are demanding their due his heart had long died to the trueness of love the landlord played the piano and felt every note the Ferryman's lantern swung in the pouring rain given up his search, now in want of his boat regular at the Inn but never seen again he knew that yesterday would never come back sailing aimlessly like a throw of the dice he knew there would be no-one to take up the slack the doomed Mariner paid the ultimate price.

0

Mar 7, 2019

Mar 7, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC

mark-motherland

The Ferryman

Part One - Missing presumed dead Apparently Alec was missing presumed dead at least that was what the obituary said how then he got married is still a mystery life after a very dark period of history Jane plodded head down through another long day solitude complete in a strange kind of way while Kestrels are tacked to an untamed sky she screams "Dear Lord wont you please tell me why" young Alec stood well over six foot tall legs full of shrapnell disfigured and all willing to give all for a meagre days pay a young man with half of his face blown away Shepherdess Jane sat under sad twinkling stars it was plain to see she had her own mental scars the Ferryman's Daughter, she was so kind different from the others, Jane was blind when the bells of victory began to ring forth it was too much for Alec, he headed up North up to the North where the bronze fields shone but Alec's old personality had gone there in the North a young Shepherdess called Jane did dry Alec's tears and soothed his deep pain Her voice rolled over hills in a plaintive wave as they assumed Alec lied in an unmarked grave In time they married, Jane bore Alec a Son but talk about the war, Alec would have none all that he said was "between you and me.. I've seen things that no man should ever see" flashbacks in his mind of the dead still ringing offset by his young Wife's ethereal singing somewhere around the Somme young Alec lay dead at least that was what the obituary said. Part Two - The Ferryman The Ferryman vowed he would find his girl he picked some roses to place in the top room searched high and low to find his precious lost pearl swore he would have her back before the flowers bloom treated like a slave, a young girl in her prime the Brothers got away Jane was left behind her body it did whither through the passing of time She was different from the others, Jane was blind worked as a Milkmaid her hands would get so sore under constant threats she still searched for the spark work never done a family waits on the shore although Jane was blind she could see in the dark the moon shone bright on the path to the Ferry House the gusts picked up on the night Jane ran away salty wind and sea shanty's awakened the grouse as Jane finally gets her break from the play He scoured every square inch of the land yet couldn't ask why? Or search into his past at the Wayfarers Inn they'd got it all planned released from a cruelty that could no longer last the night the Father died Gaelic psalms they sang a lonely house still stands like a watch to nature's will when they buried the Ferryman the church bells rang the flowers in the attic, they stand there still. Part three - The Inn (recapitulation) The Ferrymans lantern swung in the pouring rain he heard that his Daughter had made it to the Inn the audience sang to the Drovers refrain midst discarded cigarettes, rolling dice and gin Jane had long picked brambles from thorn covered vines lived an intoned existence yet she had her plans though Jane was blind she could read between the lines a chance to escape, she grabbed it with both hands the Inn's cosy light shone at the end of the lane to Whiskey Jack, Jane's elopement had come to light she had nothing to lose and everything to gain Jane's now with Alec and has recieved her respite see him dramming away yarns, bereft of what's true then screaming his lies to the starry sky above but tidal subtleties are demanding their due his heart had long died to the trueness of love the landlord played the piano and felt every note the Ferryman's lantern swung in the pouring rain given up his search, now in want of his boat regular at the Inn but never seen again he knew that yesterday would never come back sailing aimlessly like a throw of the dice he knew there would be no-one to take up the slack the doomed Mariner paid the ultimate price.

83

PRELUDE - THE SEE THROUGH HOUSE a child sings from an open window a sweet song serenades an angry sky escorting the sun home soft and mellow so many years have now drifted by visiting my old home here on Vatersay Western Isles have their own genetic blends I made the wee trip over from Castlebay all that was left to see - two gable ends! As my eye resists a lonely tear I walk alone for a while on the sand memories hark back to yesteryear my Parents couldn't tame an untamed land unrelenting hardships too much to take the summer rain and then the winter snow remnants of a failed dream in my wake endless crashing tides screamed we had to go but now I've lost myself in time's assuage smoke billows forth from a happy fire forgetting the gales and their howling rage just the birds and lambs of nature's choir but then the Cuckoo sang a confused song Oyster Catchers didn't know which way to fly no more childrens laughter all day long Father leans on his staff and starts to cry I visit my childhood home this one last time bookending my days, a kind of crescendo a strange thing I know but surely not a crime for an Old Lady to sing from an open window. PART - THE FIRST New Scotland, old Scotland it was all the same the clearances were a distant memory and the two thousand mile journey that took weeks. They settled on Nova Scotia's East coast time and circumstances made them one flesh as they embarked on love's difficult journey they were blessed with a sweet child, Ishbael they both loved her tho no longer each other at night Ishbael would sing out the open window she would sing to the moon, she would sing to the stars she imagined that she was a ballet dancer and dreamed of being such when she grew up Mother eeked out a living from the tired land Father spent most of his time on the fractious sea She stood motionless at the front door each night He checked the lobster creels under a salty spray the spode China would be laid out on the table strategically placed on the driftwood surface cups stained brown with tea, coffee and nicotine and on the outside with smudges of lipstick it was the most treasured family heirloom it was somehow smuggled across in the boat it was passed on to them as a wedding gift it was the only item of value they ever had night after night Mother watches the sea in the distant field, Sheep murmur like Bees the bog cotton waves like a myriad hankies as sunlight dissolves under cumulous cloud, his bent over figure would surely soon appear whistling a sea shanty walking up the track but like a novel, his script came to an end the storm weathered body was never found outside on the lonely pebbled shore a Curlew sang the net curtains rose and fell to it's bleak strains wind rattled the windows like the beating of fence posts they drank hot milk from Spode china for the final time their family had creaked under the stresses and strains that night a tall poplar tree crashed through the roof storms wrecked their home like they wrecked their marriage a perfect marriage of howling wind and frigid air a lifetime of memories carried toward the sea yet that old enemy was soon to be their friend like a crush that would simply not go away. Veiled by wrinkles Mother responds to the calling. Larks cavort up and down in their unyielding plot while they are bound for a far and distant land the land was in their blood the blood was in their kin the Isle of Vatersay, they were going home. PART - THE SECOND Old Scotland, new Scotland it was all the same but she could not ignore the similarities she looked across the ocean, it was all the same two thousand miles of Atlantic anger wind driven waves like a Tiger on a lead but the tide died, the sea had peace like a child's hair this reminded her of her kind Step Father he would lean on his staff and cry when things went wrong a storm took this house too, only they were not in it! They settled across the water in Castlebay. Time was unveiled as she relived her childhood, withered fence posts and rusty wire that kept the joy in brushing aside the nettles the hearth warmed her heart window fames were as firm as ber Father's hand shake she carefully scraped away the moss of time, darkening seas awakened to her silvery voice. She scurried along the beach with a youthful gait reminiscent of her ballet dancing days then the tide of her heart rose like a mountain within down in the marram grass, she stared in sheer disbelief her body all a quiver she picked up the fragments with cupped hands tears were mingled with Spode china she raised her eyes heavenward and screamed... "nach eil sin italicired" which when translated means 'how wonderful is that!' tears rolled uncontrolably down her face she stood still shaking the fragments in her hands it made a lovely tinkling sound like cow bells, two thousand miles of Atlantic anger had softened the edges and smoothed over her memories. She looked fervently at the long deserted croft the wind erased her footprints in the sands of time and then the sun went down. EPILOGUE - THE END when your poems fail to rhyme when your watch runs out of time when you feel your fate was sealed we were on the same level playing field when clouds slowly start to fill your sky when the ocean gives it's final cry life's pathways they did wind and wend we were all equal in tbe end we all had good times and hope'd they'd last but time went on rolling on by far too fast that lady in the window she's still singing not about 'the end' but a new beginning.

0

Dec 7, 2018

Dec 7, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC

mark-motherland

Beachcombing

PRELUDE - THE SEE THROUGH HOUSE a child sings from an open window a sweet song serenades an angry sky escorting the sun home soft and mellow so many years have now drifted by visiting my old home here on Vatersay Western Isles have their own genetic blends I made the wee trip over from Castlebay all that was left to see - two gable ends! As my eye resists a lonely tear I walk alone for a while on the sand memories hark back to yesteryear my Parents couldn't tame an untamed land unrelenting hardships too much to take the summer rain and then the winter snow remnants of a failed dream in my wake endless crashing tides screamed we had to go but now I've lost myself in time's assuage smoke billows forth from a happy fire forgetting the gales and their howling rage just the birds and lambs of nature's choir but then the Cuckoo sang a confused song Oyster Catchers didn't know which way to fly no more childrens laughter all day long Father leans on his staff and starts to cry I visit my childhood home this one last time bookending my days, a kind of crescendo a strange thing I know but surely not a crime for an Old Lady to sing from an open window. PART - THE FIRST New Scotland, old Scotland it was all the same the clearances were a distant memory and the two thousand mile journey that took weeks. They settled on Nova Scotia's East coast time and circumstances made them one flesh as they embarked on love's difficult journey they were blessed with a sweet child, Ishbael they both loved her tho no longer each other at night Ishbael would sing out the open window she would sing to the moon, she would sing to the stars she imagined that she was a ballet dancer and dreamed of being such when she grew up Mother eeked out a living from the tired land Father spent most of his time on the fractious sea She stood motionless at the front door each night He checked the lobster creels under a salty spray the spode China would be laid out on the table strategically placed on the driftwood surface cups stained brown with tea, coffee and nicotine and on the outside with smudges of lipstick it was the most treasured family heirloom it was somehow smuggled across in the boat it was passed on to them as a wedding gift it was the only item of value they ever had night after night Mother watches the sea in the distant field, Sheep murmur like Bees the bog cotton waves like a myriad hankies as sunlight dissolves under cumulous cloud, his bent over figure would surely soon appear whistling a sea shanty walking up the track but like a novel, his script came to an end the storm weathered body was never found outside on the lonely pebbled shore a Curlew sang the net curtains rose and fell to it's bleak strains wind rattled the windows like the beating of fence posts they drank hot milk from Spode china for the final time their family had creaked under the stresses and strains that night a tall poplar tree crashed through the roof storms wrecked their home like they wrecked their marriage a perfect marriage of howling wind and frigid air a lifetime of memories carried toward the sea yet that old enemy was soon to be their friend like a crush that would simply not go away. Veiled by wrinkles Mother responds to the calling. Larks cavort up and down in their unyielding plot while they are bound for a far and distant land the land was in their blood the blood was in their kin the Isle of Vatersay, they were going home. PART - THE SECOND Old Scotland, new Scotland it was all the same but she could not ignore the similarities she looked across the ocean, it was all the same two thousand miles of Atlantic anger wind driven waves like a Tiger on a lead but the tide died, the sea had peace like a child's hair this reminded her of her kind Step Father he would lean on his staff and cry when things went wrong a storm took this house too, only they were not in it! They settled across the water in Castlebay. Time was unveiled as she relived her childhood, withered fence posts and rusty wire that kept the joy in brushing aside the nettles the hearth warmed her heart window fames were as firm as ber Father's hand shake she carefully scraped away the moss of time, darkening seas awakened to her silvery voice. She scurried along the beach with a youthful gait reminiscent of her ballet dancing days then the tide of her heart rose like a mountain within down in the marram grass, she stared in sheer disbelief her body all a quiver she picked up the fragments with cupped hands tears were mingled with Spode china she raised her eyes heavenward and screamed... "nach eil sin italicired" which when translated means 'how wonderful is that!' tears rolled uncontrolably down her face she stood still shaking the fragments in her hands it made a lovely tinkling sound like cow bells, two thousand miles of Atlantic anger had softened the edges and smoothed over her memories. She looked fervently at the long deserted croft the wind erased her footprints in the sands of time and then the sun went down. EPILOGUE - THE END when your poems fail to rhyme when your watch runs out of time when you feel your fate was sealed we were on the same level playing field when clouds slowly start to fill your sky when the ocean gives it's final cry life's pathways they did wind and wend we were all equal in tbe end we all had good times and hope'd they'd last but time went on rolling on by far too fast that lady in the window she's still singing not about 'the end' but a new beginning.

125

I was being stalked by something large and threatening foot falls behind me but there was no-one there an uninvited guest to me he is beckoning shimmering rings, rainbow his head in the air I know Bigfoot looms large in swathes of shifting grey. I'm above the clouds stood with my back to the sun the dark figure motions to his trembling prey "oh circular glory, to you I'm outrun sat cowering beneath the Brocken Spectre the circle was broken and the Grey Man walked free was he a Troll or some Mountain Protector? Oh! Hideous encounter, the Grey Man was me!

0

Nov 22, 2018

Nov 22, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC

mark-motherland

The Grey Man ( Brocken Spectre )

I was being stalked by something large and threatening foot falls behind me but there was no-one there an uninvited guest to me he is beckoning shimmering rings, rainbow his head in the air I know Bigfoot looms large in swathes of shifting grey. I'm above the clouds stood with my back to the sun the dark figure motions to his trembling prey "oh circular glory, to you I'm outrun sat cowering beneath the Brocken Spectre the circle was broken and the Grey Man walked free was he a Troll or some Mountain Protector? Oh! Hideous encounter, the Grey Man was me!

12

the hills breathe verselets high and low in jigsaw lochans of liquid sky lure me back to where I want to go back to the land where poems lie clouds turn mountains into words that sing unto the morning sky and a faintly scattered beach of birds call out to me where poems lie four seasons lie forever stranded await some verse to unlock the spry in a song that never ended in beautiful land where poems lie the setting sun says that all is well as rhythmic rivers join the cry of pounding waves of sand and shell in the Motherland .. where poems lie!

0

Nov 22, 2018

Nov 22, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC

mark-motherland

Where Poems lie

the hills breathe verselets high and low in jigsaw lochans of liquid sky lure me back to where I want to go back to the land where poems lie clouds turn mountains into words that sing unto the morning sky and a faintly scattered beach of birds call out to me where poems lie four seasons lie forever stranded await some verse to unlock the spry in a song that never ended in beautiful land where poems lie the setting sun says that all is well as rhythmic rivers join the cry of pounding waves of sand and shell in the Motherland .. where poems lie!

16

The *** Gardeners there were twelve in all. Hurrah! Hurrah! everyone a Hero and answered the call. Hurrah! Celagh! they were going out to war to fight the *** soon be back as Heroes when the work is done so get the Cheer Leaders ready... the *** Gardeners are coming home poison gas threatened from afar. Hurrah! Hurrah! Soon be back as Heroes and first at the bar. Hurrah! Celagh! they climbed over the top of the fields of fire and complex networks of barbed wire so get the fireworks ready the *** Gardeners are coming home deadlocked enemies on the Western line. Hurrah! Hurrah! their bodies were earth their hands were slime. Hurrah! Celagh! they didn't have time to take a breath out of duty to the King they laughed at death so get the flagpoles ready the *** Gardeners are coming home specialist bombers of an infantry platoon. Hurrah! Hurrah! our Heroes longed to be home so soon. Hurrah! Celagh! overhead shellfire scared them out their wits dropped in their trench and blew them all to bits so get the coffins ready... the *** Gardeners are coming home.

0

Nov 8, 2018

Nov 8, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC

mark-motherland

The *** Gardeners

The *** Gardeners there were twelve in all. Hurrah! Hurrah! everyone a Hero and answered the call. Hurrah! Celagh! they were going out to war to fight the *** soon be back as Heroes when the work is done so get the Cheer Leaders ready... the *** Gardeners are coming home poison gas threatened from afar. Hurrah! Hurrah! Soon be back as Heroes and first at the bar. Hurrah! Celagh! they climbed over the top of the fields of fire and complex networks of barbed wire so get the fireworks ready the *** Gardeners are coming home deadlocked enemies on the Western line. Hurrah! Hurrah! their bodies were earth their hands were slime. Hurrah! Celagh! they didn't have time to take a breath out of duty to the King they laughed at death so get the flagpoles ready the *** Gardeners are coming home specialist bombers of an infantry platoon. Hurrah! Hurrah! our Heroes longed to be home so soon. Hurrah! Celagh! overhead shellfire scared them out their wits dropped in their trench and blew them all to bits so get the coffins ready... the *** Gardeners are coming home.

24

remember when you we set out towards Arkle started out you were both young the sun shone and the air and a little naive was sweet you got your first house we made easy work of reaching the summit you made it your home the view poitively exploded in scale then children came along but once on the ridge the wind picked up life became a little more and walking became more complexed complicated but you held their hands we had to hold on to every rock yet each decision carried concentration was paramount a lot of weight as you raised them with every decision mattered heart and soul ironically they weren't children long eventually the wind subsided they had established their own identities and we wended our way back down before long they had their own lives to enjoy the pleasant walk back to the road then you look back on life's long road and ask yourself? as we look back to the castellated ridge so high and way back in the distance did we really raise a family? we ask, were we really up there? It all seems so long ago now. It all seem so far away now.

0

Oct 31, 2018

Oct 31, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC

mark-motherland

DIFFERENT JOURNEYS

remember when you we set out towards Arkle started out you were both young the sun shone and the air and a little naive was sweet you got your first house we made easy work of reaching the summit you made it your home the view poitively exploded in scale then children came along but once on the ridge the wind picked up life became a little more and walking became more complexed complicated but you held their hands we had to hold on to every rock yet each decision carried concentration was paramount a lot of weight as you raised them with every decision mattered heart and soul ironically they weren't children long eventually the wind subsided they had established their own identities and we wended our way back down before long they had their own lives to enjoy the pleasant walk back to the road then you look back on life's long road and ask yourself? as we look back to the castellated ridge so high and way back in the distance did we really raise a family? we ask, were we really up there? It all seems so long ago now. It all seem so far away now.

30