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The docile cork passes us by
as we struggle between the waves
torn between moon and sun
drawn out to open waters
followed by megalodons of our world
viewed by haughty fishermen

plummeting below the frothy waters
spun around in vertical vertices
turbulence taking hold
crushing pressure pulling down
the light above fades
red hands start to turn blue
lips start to tremble
bubbles trickle
up up up

a presence appears, I am not alone
a dolphins beak nudges me gently
the eyes ingratiate my being
I feel my breathing ease
my lungs now as one within the space
tension around my head is released
audacious colours are diverse

the motion of the water provides comfort
the dolphin fills my being
at one the boundaries of sanity are established
I power for the surface in confidence
the water erupts
suspended in air folds
I bark in delight

fingers drill into my soft tissues
my breath is warm amongst the towelling
toes and fingers tingle
my nose walks through the lavender field
drifting banks of pollen powder my bare back

carefree, what a great time to live
the door closes
I enter my world again
same time next week
out of control, taken to another place, release of the body,  a dream,  power of the massage,
A stranger enters
a friend becomes
a desire is
love now forms

the way is enshrined
a universal solution
promises are insecure
a finger points the way

head bowed
hand in hand
given away
family peace a made

bound is this love
silk forms around our wrists
silk worms form a guard of honour
we reach the fluttering confectus
our free arms raised on high

wings sprout from our fingers
climbing the colours of time
looking down at distant families
the last light settles the accord

embrace the cocoon
safe from prying concerns
warm from winter chills
strands of DNA intertwined

showered in blessed waters
unravelling in harmony
spinning in union
woven of love carnal

stolen of heart
a new beat befalls
sever the laconic link
our true love emerges

adored in humility
fed with energy of life
wrapped in boundless passion
guided in the Chapel of love
love may be brief but bringing a new life into this world is eternal
kevin wright Jun 29
The darkness
the chuckling
static on fire

the strings shake
the leather oscillates
the ebony follows the ivory
the saucer vibrates

hands reach for the sky
piggy backs jostle
beams search out
crowds go wild
ears open wide

the voices converge
booming tubes
coma inducing
throaty in unison

musical ‘in same nation’
together in the moment
words are visualised
mindless contact in soulful understanding

the rhythm goes on
the pulse rises
the adoration becomes
I am transformed into my idol
where the microphone started, now used in music concerts
kevin wright Jun 19
As my time comes to an end
the trees take me in

no longer camouflaged
i become the leaf,
i will visit this world when the light appears
i will grow strong

i will give my self to who ever needs my body
they will be part of me
i can recover
my feet are firmly planted

when my time to sleep draws near
my colours will change
i withdraw with the dimming of the light
my carcass will be absolved into earth

i watch
i listen
i feel
My time to return to retirement approaches fast. My energy has been devoted to help those in need, now in writing its time to recover. My poems may start to dissapear with time.
kevin wright Jun 19
Civilisation the destroyer of homeostasis

visitors smile on the philistines
how poor
how cute
how primitive
unintelligible Gaels
no soldiers cross to bear

they wear no shoes
they have no ornaments
they eat the poor wildlife
Kildian pose with me

knowledge eras now ignore  
fashionable tweed needed out
no doctors
catch my cold
upgrade the crofts
build them chic

bait those of young age
away to lands a far
remove the labourers
taunt with silver purses
starve the islanders out

oversee the clearance
the navy are here
take only what you can carry
drown the island dogs
the sheep pay the Kildians fare

a good book deposited in each house
to bring peace
protect the souls of Hirte now marooned
secrets of a culture now destroyed
a church, a classroom, a post office now decried
grow now wrack and ruin

Hirte haunt those pleasure seekers
guard the islands for the future
simple ideology now derided
watch the islands fade on the horizon
don’t cry
a cutting-edge society lies ahead

now its time to saviour the gains
too much sugar
too much alcohol
too much smoking
too much crime
too much poverty
and much more in isolation
part three in the series of poems: St Kilda a winters tale and St Kilda a summer tale. St Kilda an isolated island whose culture was disrespected and wiped from the map by a better society. In 1930 for better or worse the population as moved, this represents how many poeples of the world are relocated for a good reason but for whos gain? Also known as Hirta which here represents an ancestral plane.
kevin wright Jun 14
Summer, long sunny days
welcome is the light by all
men stripped to the waists
cutting and a drying the peat
repairing crofty cracks

scaling the unclimbable cliffs for eggs
fresh vegetables to be eked out
tatties  stored
bird meat for the stew
bountiful cow milk for the pail

white tailed sea eagles feeding their young chicks
unseen souls of Hirte watch the new visitors
together with golden eagles on high
predators eye abundant wildlife
puffins diving for fish ignore the wrecks
lambs abound in nonchalant play

bare footed are the women  
woven yarn carried to trade
a simple boat awaits oars and sail set
the lord is paid the rent
return with news and winter oats

a new generation are ready to bond
the village assemble within the church
the cloth bands of marriage are worn
vows exchanged
a croft is made ready

a community
wary they of  visitors
protecting a way of life
symbolised by a faith
strengthen mind and body
prepare for the impending darkness
A follow up and contrast to St Kilda a winters tale. St Kilda an isolated island where a singular culture, language, a fight for survival and a place where ships were often wrecked depended on a strong faith. Also known as Hirta which here represents an ancestral plane.
kevin wright Jun 10
living from the land
on a prayer

winter so dark and wet
seals canter the mountainous waters
sheep cowering before the wind
ships torn apart by jagged stone

eyes peering through the salt stained windows
whilst oats are being ground
bubbling gruel over the fire
oily wool being teased
thick yarn being worked

a bedevilled figure appears on a doorstep
a wreck survivor shivers in soaked skin
they bring him in before a fire
tweeds for the sea angel
exhaustion and gruel draw him to sleep
he will live and reap

the months pass by
sustained by a meagre thrift
Gaelic songs of old
reviving those long gone
stories so bold
simple games to hold

hammer out the rock
lower a body
reanoint and cover with honed rock
one more enters the island of Hirta
lifted out of the hole by an ancestor and one not surviving a wreck
transcend the  drift wood hall
eternal summer celebrations for all
dancing and talking in a common spiel
watching over their offspring of Kilda zeal

storms are abating and spring thrusts in
wavering candles lights the verse
crinkled hands are opened in praise
closed eyes against the cold
warms hearts now engaged
thanks, and a prayer
are given to Hirta spirts and creators alike
St Kilda an isolated island where a singular culture, language, a fight for survival and a place where ships were often wrecked depended on a strong faith. Also known as Hirta which here represents an ancestral plane.
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