"lochs" poems
Lids open like blooms,
Blush of lips on skins,
Light sparks as we feel
Each touch of impress
Out of dark, into a sol,
Morning on the shores,
With hands leafing new
We branch over water,
Palms unlatch on lochs,
Tied bodies unhidden.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 2:54 AM UTC
You tie my gut in knots
Never expected this in my plot
Twisting my lochs with
Nervous fingers locking
Hands with you is magickal.
You tie my mind in knots
Its like a roller coaster lost
In space the comet's frost
Ignites a shower of colors
Cascading across your eyes...
You tie my heart in knots
I pray it doesn't clot my
Thoughts about our
Dreams about our
Kids about our
Means of getting by...
And I love having this in common with you.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
I
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner, the girl next door.
Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.
Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,
Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.
Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches.
Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.
In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.
II
Dawn freshens, Her climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends,
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news.
III
Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers' declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled on the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.
IV
Thousands are still asleep,
Dreaming of terrifying monsters
Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's:
Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
4.7k
I'm not in a rush to leave this place.
I'm in no hurry, it's not a race.
I'd like to take it real slow.
So many stunning places to go.
I want to travel far and wide.
See much more of the English countryside.
Beautiful beaches that surround us in Cornwall and Devon, remind us we live in our own corner of Heaven.
Mystical places with tales of legends to tell.
So much to do and see, I'll do my best to make it sell.
Tintagel such a mystic place, where legend has it King Arthur had his chair.
He had a roundtable it held many Knights, all ready to defend, always ready for a fight.
In York a Viking museum to tell how they came upon our shores, with longboats, a 60 man crew, paddled with their oars.
Bath has the best Roman baths to be found, laze and spoil yourself in the steam rooms built in Roman surrounds.
In Wales, there's Snowdonia for you to climb, or the less active can take a train ride.
A castle in Caernarfon where Princes are appointed by H M The Queen, the sword on the shoulder duly declares arise HRH Prince of Wales, the crowd are waiting for the new Prince to be seen.
In Scotland there's Edinburgh with a castle tall and round sits atop a very high mound.
The lowlands and the Highlands are a sight of well known beauty, driving around the lochs at night keep your eyes open for a monstrous sight, nessie fact or fiction,
Of course there are the lakes of England too, Windermere the largest draws the biggest crowd. Find a cottage out of sight, snuggle up with a loved one, cuddle tight.
Put on your water skis, hire a boat, sail your wind surfing board, fire up your jet ski any of these activities can be fun and available to be done, daily.
The Cotswolds, for take your breath away beauty, small villages, luscious village greens, cricket playing in the field, Large Houses, Lord of the Manors, old worldly pubs, thatched pubs and rivers waiting to be seen.
There are Dartmoor, Bodmin Moor and Exmoor too, Peak District, Lake District mountain ranges, many a zoo.
I'm not in a rush to leave this place.
I'm in no hurry, it's not a race.
I'd like to take it real slow.
So many stunning places to go.
So much to do, so much to see.
On your doorstep, no need to stray.
Whatever you do, wherever you go, have a happy holiday.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
Often alone I think of you
rolling mountains covered in a purple haze
both in highlands and lowlands too
running water so pure sparkling bright
making our whisky a natural delight
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
I hear music played from the heart
oh' the sound of pipes and drums
heart racing hairs standing on end
poetry filling my eyes with tears
recited at suppers year after year
in celebration of bards no longer here
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
Men wearing tartan skirts with nothing underneath
dancing between swords at highland gatherings
playing games testing their manhood
eating haggis a pudding often misunderstood
porridge,shortbread, salmon and oatcakes
quality food that is for sure
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
History remembered with pride
Mary Stuart, Bonnie Prince Charlie
Wallace, Culloden and Nessie too
some myths, some true
castles, lochs, bridges and glens
places where lassies are called hen
where houses are often **** un bens
people answering with ah' ken
Celtic blood running through my veins
makes me glad I am alive and living here
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 5:44 AM UTC
False memories and track marks pave your arms
Sudden revolt of youth pressurised to fail
Painkillers doubled and stacked for a head to slumber
Soft heads and dead leg spasm attack pillow piddles in *****
Fictitious tesla coil blue breath mortifys mortality
And your goggles won't fog out the underwater current miscellaneous
Digital tectonic pushing ideas you brainstorm
Shadowed reluctance to consume the musk of infrared roses
This romance is one that was jealous of itself
Pre-divorced in its own certainty on incompatibility
Basin top full too top heavy to predict precarious
Living in a shaded sense of erased memory lapses continuing truth
Toward magnificent still life categorised by perdition
Forward thinking ruby gold phong shaded hatred quantum conversate Unthinkable
Nebula of gas
Face first head in hands
Euthanasia between my thighs crush my head
Choked neck
Throat
Strangle me and give me breath
I roll and the conductor pulls apart my mouth
Diseased by euphoria lips separate and teeth show
Pupils land home and iris jumps ship
Perfume gum dry bitter butterfly kiss
Head held back in place tongue falls back into the razor-front of the mouth
Caution held simultaneous irrelevant body load carries my smile
Jump knee deep into the silence of my own lungs
It's been a while
I breath vindictively in time with the respiration of the country
Somewhere out in the hexagon sun I burn candles and whisp
Hold in smoke
Die
Twitch forward in palliative peace motionless and still
Cuspids and lochs
Spread across the grass the harmony touches yours and mine
A hole and whole dream
Conscious and dead
Content
Voices rattle in unified mono-chromidity
Sadness
Carrion
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Long I followed happy guides,—
I could never reach their sides.
Their step is forth, and, ere the day,
Breaks up their leaguer, and away.
Keen my sense, my heart was young,
Right goodwill my sinews strung,
But no speed of mine avails
To hunt upon their shining trails.
On and away, their hasting feet
Make the morning proud and sweet.
Flowers they strew, I catch the scent,
Or tone of silver instrument
Leaves on the wind melodious trace,
Yet I could never see their face.
On eastern hills I see their smokes
Mixed with mist by distant lochs.
I meet many travellers
Who the road had surely kept,—
They saw not my fine revellers,—
These had crossed them while they slept.
Some had heard their fair report
In the country or the court.
Fleetest couriers alive
Never yet could once arrive,
As they went or they returned,
At the house where these sojourned.
Sometimes their strong speed they slacken,
Though they are not overtaken:
In sleep, their jubilant troop is near,
I tuneful voices overhear,
It may be in wood or waste,—
At unawares 'tis come and passed.
Their near camp my spirit knows
By signs gracious as rainbows.
I thenceforward and long after
Listen for their harplike laughter,
And carry in my heart for days
Peace that hallows rudest ways.—
2.2k
Off lone island bay,
Outlander waves are praying,
Curly in their white caps.
Cars and lorries are creeping
Into a village still sleeping,
Coming in from nowhere.
Stones have things to voice,
There are stars of rock fish
Deep in bays with the moon.
Beyond night dream are lochs,
Darks and colds of longings,
Mountains old as confusion.
Birds chime their mouth musics,
Churlishly sent over moorlands,
All questions ring unanswered.
On broke beaches are notions
Of days strung to faraways
And sands bleached ancestral.
Off lone island bay,
Simple comings, waves, goings,
After sly moon, sun has its say.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
I wander here again
as many the day before
for a span of years this mind
roams upon the shore.
Little remembrances
re-educates the heart once more
to the simple easy days
When life held open its core.
The sun glistens upon the sea
the wind soft to form
caresses here the jagged weeds
the thistle and the thorn.
I wander deep my old paths
were in youth I roamed and played
the magic of the fairytale
was the land and what it gave.
Sweet the dreams that flood and fill
these tranquil moments in time
holds bright the promise of another day
As upon the hills I climb
.
Where mighty hawk hovers above
where the cliffs race to the sea
To those lochs that are ever so fresh
to the sweet mornings plea.
I journey back across the years
as fate has had me roam
To see the land of which I'm part
to feel my distant home.
There's no shore like that of hers
no field that hugs the soul
just empty planes without any names
that runs a foreign flow.
I dream of her my seductive queen
when the nights are cold and dark
I see her there inviting me
Dressed in her heather sark.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 20, 2011
Mar 20, 2011 at 6:52 AM UTC
Off lone island bay,
Outlander waves are praying,
Curly in their white caps.
Cars and lorries are creeping
Into a village still sleeping,
Coming in from nowhere.
Stones have things to voice,
There are stars of rock fish
Deep in bays with the moon.
Beyond night dream are lochs,
Darks and colds of longings,
Mountains old as confusion.
Birds chime their mouth musics,
Churlishly sent over moorlands,
All questions ring unanswered.
On broke beaches are notions
Of days strung to faraways
And sands bleached ancestral.
Off lone island bay,
Simple comings, waves, goings,
After sly moon, sun has its say.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
i saw in your eyes
my windowed soul
my naked self freed
alive yet dousing now
joyous tear and burst
of cloud ringing stars
yay i am sure drowned
overboard in lifesaving
blooms wilds flowering
of irises touch so dear
and lay awake bathing
only to dream for sight
with looks blissful keep
the near deepest unrest
and i am fairly held nigh
holy in pagan fairy pools
of skye by sunken lochs
into bluest shyest violets
glowing moons ashudder
what unlived eyes of mine
could nae see ever before
what life held by saving us
ayes set in promising glaze.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 2:58 AM UTC
I’ve been to straths,
I’ve been to lochs,
I’ve been to mountains -
I’ve seen but every single beauty of the world!
But everywhere I went
Blood flew in fountains.
I saw that
And my blood went cold.
13.11.2003
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC
Golden lochs gently kiss her shoulders
in a mass of beautifully divine color
a peaceful solitude floats above her
smiles wide bringing her to that special place...
The most beautiful translucent blue eyes
piercing, tranquil, like ice on fire
blessed she be...gorgeous
look into her eyes deeply...
Appears the hint of deviousness
devotion, delicate, empowering
Heart to give she strives to live
devoid of that dream state happiness...
I once got lost in those beautiful eyes
taken in like a hellfire vortex
liquid blue mystery, sapphire times two
extruding sweetness and bleeding hope...
Live,love, laugh wrapped into one
I've seen her in action.leading the fun
does she exist in more than my mind
certainly this Goddess is more than a dream
For now you all know her name....is Christine...
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
your finger tips, they speak of days, they speak of places far away,
of lakes and lochs and fjords and bays, they speak what you're afraid to say.
they tell me much of what you fear, your need to be held close and near,
they tell me who you are my dear, they scream and yell and dance and cheer,
your finger tips they call to me, they drag me far far out to sea,
they show me who you want to be, and they do this all so silently.
this is why i miss your touch, it seems so simple but it's much,
much more than that, you are my crutch, that's why your hand i'll always clutch.
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 6:21 PM UTC
When the skies are settled
And out went the sea
A rocky cave is shone
For all the world to see
And in Its depths in darkest waves
There shines a light,
Of fluttering filtered focus
There swims a fish
With but three fins,
Through lakes of reddened snow.
But light through every flake
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
She always spoke of Scotland
With a faraway look in her eye
The fog, the moors, the lochs she saw
In her memory of years gone by
Where the sea would crash the cliffs below
As she would sit above
And stare out at the water
And watch for her true love.
Her love was the son of a fisherman
And his Da would teach him the trade
But she knew that they had different dreams
Of a land far, far away.
They saved and saved and made their plans
They dreamed their dreams and prayed
And she sold baked goods in the town
And he learned the fishing trade.
They finally had enough money
And off to London they ran
They bought two tickets on a steamer
To take them to their new land.
Once on board they asked the captain
If he would marry them at sea
And they had the wedding of their dreams
In love as they could be.
They raised six kids with horses and mules
And built their home by hand
They made a life full of love and grace
And were happy in their new land.
But time marches on as the ancients say
And you can't hold back the tide
And people age and eyes grow dim
And their shuffles lessen their stride.
The hands that used to bake are still
Except for giving hugs
And behind the wrinkles the dimples show
When the memories begin to tug
He's gone now and so Grandma stares
And sees what we can't see
And dreams of a place so far away
And the girl she used to be.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 5:33 PM UTC
The box~
I keep a razor
In a wooden box
With pictures
Trinkets, jewelry
And lochs
It's under my bed
I keep it locked
And lost the key
But all the faces
Are still in my head
And
Sometimes
They
Talk
To
Me
~
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
Stealing defeat from the jaws of Victory.
A feat that was tall, fought for then slipped away.
The Scottish way it seems, to let it disappear.
To come so close with hands open as we near
then through our fingers we let slip another year.
Disappointed and down, we maintained a disjointed crown.
We could have swam for freedom but in the open water we drowned.
The lochs turned to black, no clock can turn back:
Freedom was for the taking, but under the pressure we cracked.
Scaremongering, propaganda. Down right lies.
The told the feeble to stay together, and there would be a prize.
Hungering for a land. A place to call home.
They listened. Now no longer can they roam
Or swim in open waters that are their very own.
They are bound by unity yet completely alone.
So from a foreign land I think back to the time.
when I felt a part of it. In land that was mine.
But no desire to return. The lesson I learned:
Fire always burns out. We had heart but no spine.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
A young girl was singing of mountains and mist
as if granite and moorlands were all that exists
she sang of the heather and sun on the lochs
of tinkling burns born up high in the rocks
she sang how the water runs down to the sea
and I stood and believed she was singing for me
Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 8:07 AM UTC
The years have traced her
like an eternal Goddess,
her beautiful lochs fall upon perky *******
each curl an unfurling strand
in a silver streaked mane of madness.
gorgeous, divine, flowing gently
In the rhythm of her movements.
shrouding her pretty face,
cheek bones high, smile wide,
The hair of all hair lives, gives,
demands my breath, I freely give.
only an occasional glimpse do I so treasure,
silvery sheen, sun kissed, so blessed,
gorgeous...
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
cut stone
lichen roam
over your
shut mouth
mineral lochs
run through
slowed vein
ex
tend
your hard hand
take my face
and wake the sleep
that petrifies me
sunk into this bed
ancient thing
ancestor to the mountain
what tales of brokenness
you must have
break them
over mine
widen this time
give me eyes farther
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
The breeze comes down the mountain
like a cool moist autumn tease
it will kiss the leaves and let them dance
and make you feel at ease
Like when the warmth from your breath
tickles on my ear
ensuing sweet nothings mean the world
I so love it when you're near
The roses which i hold so dear
have all but wandered off
except the one i give to you
her petals silky soft
I give to you my broken heart
forgive me can you fix
I have little time upon this earth
the clock it quickly ticks
I watch your lochs fall like rain
running down your back
before i die i give to you
my love on bible stack
As i breathe one last breath
your pretty eyes they smile
you kiss my lips and say "I love you"
you'll be there in a while
Remember when we'd dance for hours
in torrential rain
making love under starry skies
and never feeling shame
Now I say goodbye my love
and slowly close my eyes
thank you honey I love you too
as i die with one last smile...
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
Temple tunics
On antipodal brim
Enfolding in boughs
Lochs of lagoon
No broadcasts
To ruin ourn tune
Ourn tress to clout
No shame nor doubt
Endless labyrinth
North to south
Feeding doves by hand
Grains of tan
Whilst the bairn scowl
For mimes and Lambs
Broods of technology
Tearing down filth
Governmental collapse
Every man's self
In his house!!!
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
By the sun and moon,
I swear
That I love you.
Golden Claws
Separate the sky
Laughing Animals
You and I
Flow with the moment
Feel the pull of our auras,
Poet
I sent you warmth in the postage
Preview
Lochs of our love
We'll be swimming in
See through
Bring me love
Bring me love, All your love
Bring me,
Bring me love.
By the starry sky
I swear,
You and I will never die.
Flow with the moment
Feel the pull of our auras,
Poet
I sent you warmth in the postage
Preview
Lochs of our love
We'll be swimming in
See through
Bring me love
Bring me love, All your love
Bring me,
Bring me love.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC