"shinty" poems
He was a highland laddie
Grew up in the great glen
Played shinty for Fort William
A man amongst men.
He played the highland pipes
With heartbeat rhythms felt
That pumped his blood within
While wearing his clan's kilt.
Fishing at Loch Linnie
Would stir his Gaelic pride
As he viewed the heather
His Lassie by his side...
...he wakes up from his dream
And yet his dream lives on
To prove his Scottishness
And confirm where he comes from.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Pine trees mingle into the green
The bonnet is wet with the clouds
Curling roads are full of promise of the joy around the corner
The windscreen and the highlands become twins
Sleepy wipers clear the way for the first sign
"Shinty this afternoon. 2:30pm throw up"
Anticipation and adrenalin become back seat drivers
Shiny streets smile their gaelic welcome
Brick buildings, holy and steadfast announce "you've arrived"
Pubs with antlers on the wall mop up stray pedestrians
Cars, single file and hypnotized
Crawl through the Main Street then turn right
Where they reach the sticky car park with tyre tracks thousands of years old
Misty highland backgrounds give an apostolic reminder of where you are
Then whispers to the locals; "custodian"
Highland glen
Shinty men
Shinty town.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC