Upon high throne the Iona queen doth sit
From lofty seat she lauds over us all
The servile answer to her every call
She wields a most authoritative hit
None shall try to take her top position
For she is regent of the regal realm
Verily preordained twas her supreme helm
We subjects recognize this condition
Our eyes are trained on her everything
Wavering our attentions must not be
She wears the crown of importance so well
Hail her reign may it continue to ring
The peoples of her land filled with glee
Her majesty hath a rule which is so swell

I took the afternoon boat from Oban to Mull
a bus to the far side of the Island
and pitched up my tent for three days.

The rain finally stopped on a Saturday morning.
I took the small ferry across the sound to Iona.

Here pilgrims feet for generations
have walked sunwise around the top a small hill
prayer and incantations, supplication.

St Columbus came over from Ireland
and preached the Good News all over Scotland
Iona where the veil is thin, his abbey stood.

Pilgrims ask the prayers of St Columba.
who pitched up his tent so many centuries ago
Iona, where the veil is thin.

Look at her, midsection lines blazing

    Heaving prow swollen with glittering ion beams

Her aft sections tight and proud

    Bravely bolstering her posture as she surges into the fray

Battle joined, she calls the hunt with thunder

    Heralding fell sensors' unerring gaze

For none in the skies who've caught her eyes

    Have survived her deadly rays

Serene mountains
Majestic waterways
Quaint towns and colorful people
Your serenity is precious
Lush greenness
Joy and respect of Nature
Awe and wonder
Island devine
Stones of History
Abbeys and churches filled with stories
Incredible isle of Puffins
Seagulls await your lunch swooping down for take out
Celtic and Nordic charms and humbles locals
Enchants visitors
Respect and wonder at every turn
Culture and creature living in tandem

C@rainbowchaser2021

the veil between the spiritual and material worlds is thin here
you can feel the gentle touch of eternity reaching through to touch your soul, your soul vibrates with love, a silent song, a dance, a meeting, a homecoming, a setting free, the unlocking of all secrets, the fusion of everlasting peace.

On the island of Iona
where only one person
lives, democracy has
been proven to be the
ultimate political modus.

Hi my name is Iona Jessica Saunders and I write Blogs for a Hobby  and Study at Amersham & Wycombe college I study Art & Design Level 2 With loads of other students who are Amazing People who look forward to seeing everyday.My course is Great I'm loving it so far so good , It's differcult but I'm enjoying it so far. The projects haven't been easy but i'm enjoying them.I also do my own photography I take photos of nature like flowers , sky or leaves sometimes people. I write poems occasionally when I feel like writing something funny or dark that rhymes.I'm 18 so I can drink occasionally at parties or on the weekend.I'm a vegetarian So I don't eat meat because I don't find it appetising , I've been feeling ILL for about 2 months now But I'll get through it.I also have paranoia which means i worry about everything like : Do i look okay or am i wearing the right things or am i acting normal enough.I worry about alot of stuff But I take the time out to relax and unwind.I think Life will get better no matter how much ******* you go through , no matter how many people you lose Life will always get better , if not you just have to keep trying.

Leonard swam amongst the basalt rock.
A music box of echo and tide,
***** pipes of molten Earth
petrified in place. He stood within

the natural cathedral and cleansed himself
of suitcases, old postcards, and
sweethearts, whilst the White Stranger
looked out for his sweet Iona.

Amy bathed her feet in the Sea of Stars.
She left her clothes on Conrad's
carpet and held plankton in her palms.
Freckles of light formed in a hand-held

pool. They bent and assembled into order.
She was the forgotten daughter
of fine wine and bold name tags,
until she left them for the salt and the sand.

Ryan sat in the sun with his shades on,
stabbing ice whilst making a call
to the office. He stretched out on his
day-drunk fortune, collecting souvenirs

and belly fat, double chins and photographs;
his wallet purging in the tourist trap
of old Van Dieman's land. He thought
that he'd escaped her prison, a long time ago.

Alvina

There once was a gal named Alvina
Who lived in a shoe in Regina.
     She wanted some tea
     That was straight from the tree,
So she shoveled a tunnel to China.


Moana

There once was a gal from Iona
Who gave to a fella a bona.
     They met waist to waist
     In a manner unchaste,
And he made her a moana and groana.

Iona
Place of pilgrimage-
if wind
hasn't halted
the ferry