Tag: poem

Living the Wild

It seems that we have the getaways again. Oh dear, Scotland is calling us loud and clear. To be fair to it, we should have been there again by now, it is waiting for us. We had plans, but due to illness we are waiting until our health has improved, since it can be pretty bleak up on the hill. So at the moment, we try to satisfy our cravings for the scenery and beauty, with any hope of a Scottish view or voice via the television. Yes, we are most definitely homesick until we arrive there for this years piece of the puzzle. It has been four months since we last visited, but seems like forever. That almost felt like “It has been four months since my last confession”, but I am not of the Catholic faith and so it has been a lot longer than that…

The other evening we watched it again, Ben Fogle’s series New Lives in the Wild UK, we had seen this particular episode last year, but I had no hesitation in watching it again to drink in the scenery. It documented the life on Fair Isle, Scotland of Tommy Hyndman, who moved there from the USA around ten years or so ago. You simply have to admire Tommy for getting stuck in there and making it work. We have learned that it is not always easy to integrate into a new community but he seems to have got the mix just right there. Having taken on a guest house, named The Auld Haa, he seems to be running it with some success and I wish him much more. It was not only a crofter’s cottage, but is also his home and he chooses to share it with travellers worldwide, thus enriching his life with experiences and also earning him a living. It appears from this program, that the welcoming home and atmosphere of his surroundings, would rest the heart of any weary traveller who set foot there. Fair Isle is a birdwatchers haven, as well as being known for it’s wonderful sweaters but for anyone looking for a get away from it all and back to nature vacation, away from the hustle and bustle, it looks like the ideal spot.

We were naturally in awe of Tommy’s Studio, he get’s to rent the lighthouse and that alone would have us flocking there, but I think there is probably already a long queue should he ever decide to vacate it.
I personally cannot think of a more inspirational workspace in which to write, but I’m pretty sure that given the chance, I would find huge inspiration there.

My partner used to skipper a weekend fishing boat and has always been a seafaring Bear and I know that he misses being out on the water. Me, well I would live on a diet of fish if he‘d let me. The size of the Lobsters that he and Ben caught on camera, had me positively drooling at the thought.

At the end of it all, I hope that Tommy finds love with a strong woman who can cope with the demands of Island Life and who will throw herself into it headlong with him and make him truly happy. It seems as though it is the only thing he lacks in his life.

Following the program, my partner asked me to look up property for sale on the Island, he had missed the bit where it was owned by the National Trust of Scotland but, there must be other beautiful Scottish islands right? I should explain myself. I love looking at property, I have always wanted to find and own a property portfolio all over the place, but have not yet been able to raise the finance for this particular dream. I also think that I would be hesitant to let any of it go, so would be constantly moving from one place to another. But I regularly look to see what is out there. A quick search brings up a place called Sanday, It was beautiful and for offers around £120,000 I found a 2 bed farm with 30 acres leading down to the sea for sale. Imagination fired once again, what sort of life could we live in a place like that! However the reality of a Scottish Island for two people with arthritis, would be far different of course, I think the climate would make us miserable especially in the winter months, but the beauty of such a place never fails to tug at the heart and fire the imagination. There’s always a holiday though…
Living the Wild,

Watching a great series on television,
On how some people have made it their mission
On how to let their dreams run wild,
They celebrate their inner child.
Look at Tommy, he’s been blessed
Found a place where sea birds nest.
In the lighthouse, held aloft
Views to sea, or over his croft.
Wild winds, emotional Scottish weather,
Howl and tease amongst the heather.
But when the day is clear and calm,
Can’t fail to notice, it has it’s charm.
A place that’s known as Fair Isle
Where special sweaters are made with style.
Family businesses weaving the yarn,
Made to measure in house and barn
Tommy has lived there making his way,
Day in and day out come what may.
Could walk for miles without a trace,
But never alone in this wonderful place.
A workshop where he will create,
Livestock will roam, so close the gate.
Community living, you’d earn your keep,
When you’re out on the moor tending the sheep.
The guesthouse he runs is called the Auld Haa,
Impossible to travel there just by car.
Stopping to spot an unusual bird,
Trek the fields, with the herd.
Walking and painting that’s the trick,
Plenty to see for the romantic.
Nooks and crannies in which to play,
While children while away their day.
The Craggy cliff face can be sheer,
But hold on tight nothing to fear.
Shoes off, to get your toes in the sand.
Off by plane back to the mainland.
Out to sea by boat to get fish,
More time spent here is your wish.
As Tommy cooks a fabulous dinner.
This has to be your holiday winner.
Open your arms in your dreams you’re hurled
With it all to see, you’re on top of the world.

The Tangled Web

Thinks of the things that she may write,
Sweet dreams to come into her night.
Emotions are often there in tatters,
Like the glass of a mirror it shatters.
Falling at once upon the floor,
Leaving her staring, wanting more.
Sometimes I will think of the things I deny,
And how to musings, myself I’ll apply.
What a wonderful web we tangle,
When you can see it from every angle.
Not trying ever to deceive,
Is what we strive to achieve.

I knew, I wish I knew…

I knew, I wish I knew…

I knew,
That he’s the one for me.
That it would be Home.
That I would win the auction for the car.
That I was driving past the road where it is, knowing it was nearby.
That we needed more antibiotics.
That she needed a surprise visit and a hug.
That I was not strong enough before.
That it wasn’t to be.
That my friend was hurting.
That my lover was ill.
That I am stronger that I thought.
That I am a good person.
I wish,

I knew I could ease the burden.
I knew where I’d put the things I had lost.
I knew what would work for a career.
I knew that Good Luck is on its’ way
I knew what my purpose in life is.
I knew that I could be who and what I want to be.

The Gift

IMG_1134She bought me this gift, a witches ball.
Just when she got it, I don’t quite recall.
It remained so long in the box,
Found it again when looking for socks,
Put it to the back of the cupboard for sure,
Hadn’t a clue of the things in store.
It is said that you fill the vessel with scent,
It sends spirits away, they came and went.
Hanging up there in the light,
They can’t get in, try as they might.
They bounce off the window, tumble and fall
It offers me protection from them all.
It brought a pivotal change in my life,
When I found out it was made in Fife.
Not far from where we go off to hide,
Off up there in the countryside.
The place where our thoughts we gather,
Oh to be there, whatever the weather.
A place which has me bewitched,
The life I have here would be switched.
Off where future thoughts are rife,
Where we have a different life.
To when where I can make and toil,
A home, with soft garden soil.
Where things will grow, be abundant,
Herbs and foods, self sufficient.

Well my friend, she knows me well
As she weaved her magic spell.
Around the space it would drape,
As the dreams began to shape.
The places about they’d start to drift,
As they began a momentous shift.
To create someone refreshed anew,
Stopping to sip in this unusual brew.
Perhaps a life was better spent,
Doing the thing of which you’ve dreamt
Herbs and spices in the mix,
You think she’s up to her old tricks.
On a journey and make haste,
In to the country you have chased.
Now and then her power to surge.
A moment to Thank her for the urge.
A well thought gift that she would send,
Protecting me, her very dear friend.

The Morning Shift

I step outside, from the safety of my nest.
No longer cocooned.
As though seeing it all for the first time.
As I taste the mountain air,
The coolness of it, a sharp intake of breath
Attacking my senses and jolting me to life.
I feel the snow, crunching underfoot.
Pine Trees, sparkling and scented.
The bright sun breaking through the clouds and the blue in the sky
The scent of wood smoke and coffee brewing.
Birds are calling overhead, as their prey scurries to safety.
I take pleasure in the sights, sounds, taste, scent as it touches my heart,
Reminding me that life is beautiful and shifting my perspective.
The serenity of this place in the morning, calming my soul.
I am at ease.

Slaying the Dragon

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The proverbial dragon with fiery breath,
You’ll have to fight with until the death.
Your confidence captured it will trash,
Pray for a knight in armour to dash.
They call her the Dragon, the Witch and much more.
Collects trophies from the past, she’s keeping score.
Watching over like an evil Queen
Preying upon a weakness she’s seen.
Enemies have fallen in her wake,
Before her in their boots they’ll quake.
She’ll have her own way, or she’ll roar
Have you scrambling for the door.
With one fell swoop she’d reduce them to tears,
Been getting away with it all these years.
But just when she thinks that you’ll beat,
Away from her a hasty retreat.
Suddenly you grew so much stronger,
This couldn’t go on any longer
Dressed in your armour, you summoned your power
No longer the safety of her Ivory tower.
Scramble the walls and to battle, my dear,
To win over the dragon and conquer your fear.
Over all of the energy she would invest,
One day the dragon is laid to rest.
Trampled and broken on the floor,
Gone from your life, you’ve won the war.

Thirty Years, Just Think!

 

In our family we think about Birthdays wherever we are in the world, but if we are together usually on that day, If I am speaking to my father, he has what we refer to as the “Just Think” moment. It is when he reminisces about the time I was born and tells me about it. It draws me close to him for a moment and gives me the warm fuzzy feeling, it is nice that he still remembers. I had my very own “Just Think” moment for a very special lady in my life, so Happy 30th Birthday to my Little Sister.

Thirty years ago tonight
As this poem I try to write.
We were expecting to arrive,
a child who would change my life.
Was so small when I kissed her,
So pleased to have a little sister.

At twelve years old, I’d have never bet
A new sibling I would have met.
I went to sleep asked Dad to wake me.
“If she comes along I want to see!”
But with other ideas you didn’t delay,
And so very quickly you were on your way.
Arrived so quickly they had to run,
Mum there with baby by half past one.

On TV there was a big boxing fight,
We watched it at home that very night.
Between Big Frank and Tiny Tim,
I’d got you a bear and that’s what I named him.
The first little bear, but you had a few
This was the one that I gave to you.
Arrived to visit Mum and her tot.
And placed him beside you in your cot.

As time’s gone by she’s big and grown,
Things changed a bit when the nest I’d flown
But tried to be there for her as I may,
Would offer her a place to stay.
Would attend the home for a visit,
Be there when needed to baby sit.

We’d go out for Ice Cream at the “Eating Pub”
When aching and sore, my back she would rub.
She really was the sweetest kid,
The one that we all called “The Didd,”
It’s because she was the Diddie one
Smallest of three to Dad and Mum.

For a cause, she’ll stand up and fight.
Her teeth and claws may give you a fright.
Slender and swift, she’ll pounce like a cat.
Would like the last word and that is that!
Looking at her, I’m pleased to state,
She has about her the family trait.
Being there for you, when up or you’re down,
Always happy to stop for a coffee in town.

Will help you with the odd household chore,
And shopping with her is never a bore.
Don’t know what’s been decided to follow which path,
When we’re together, don’t hold back just laugh.
I love her so much, just as I ought,
Of course there’s been times when we fought.

On a few occasions I have met her friends,
But that is not where the story ends.
Going about with her long fiery hair,
Says what she means without a care.
She’s arty and clever and ever so loud,
But she’s my sister and makes me proud.
Through thick and thin this I have learned,
And to achieve her own success I’ve yearned.
With her there’s certainly no room for faking,
And her successes will be of her making.
She gets up on stage and sings her heart out,
Excitement abounding she’ll jump and shout.
So now that the baby has finally shown,
She’s a woman today, I’m pleased to have known.
Doesn’t matter how near or how far,
Travel required by train or by car.
But always know we’ll be together,
Through thick or thin, my sister forever.
So please raise a glass tonight to drink,
And as you do, say to her “Just think”

The Tale of Boomerang.

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This is the Tale of Boomerang,
Right from back where it began.
A story from long time ago,
Never thought would love a little car so

Thinking of the trips in this, they’ll go far,
As they made their plans for the little car.
Of a beautiful Saab she would often dream,
Not usually red, she had seen one in cream.
Planted firmly upon her wish list,
Her sights set hard, through time she wished.
For this was a dream she set out to achieve,
A possible goal made with time to breathe.
But her licence would come and a date he’d set,
When her dream would come true and that car she’d get.
They travelled the country far and wide,
A passenger then just enjoying the ride.
Emotional journey to her old car farewell,
they had moved on it was time to sell.
She thought of all the ones that had been,
Of all of the sights, she had finally seen.
Days out in the sunshine when the weather was fine.
Trips off to France to load up on wine.
The roof down the breeze and wind on their faces,
A clear stretch of road, enjoying the races.
A short while passed and he wanted to upgrade,
But with the red car she wished she’d stayed.
The first car she had from passing her test,
It was the one that she loved the best.
Driving past one the pang it sends
As they went along in their Mercedes Benz,
Don’t get me wrong although it was fun,
The Saab was much better in the long run.
Think of the joys in little red,
All of those journeys we wore some tread.

They travelled to town for a funeral,
Journeyed back talking through it all.
And in an unknown place that they passed,
Sharp intake of breath and they were aghast.
They stopped up the road, couldn’t believe their luck.
With the car at the garage, the man was stuck,
There’s been thirteen people for it, I’ve been sent.
Take it away, as for you it was meant.
She skipped out to the car to see it again,
A smile on her face, she’d get it, When?
The chance of getting her dream car back,
Excitement of driving, she’d no longer lack.
He arranged with the man and did the deal,
No comprehension of how she would feel.
Once again she’d got her red car,
He’d come right back a shining star.

Later when the time was right,
He asked her if she just might
A suggestion that they would chop him in,
Not sure about that, it would be a sin.
Looked at a car, eyes wide with awe,
To get rid of red, would leave her sore.
But sense kicked in as he was growing older,
They thought about something much, much bolder.
She drove him away shedding a tear.
He’s been there for her, for many a year.

The new car arrived and was all that she hoped,
But about little red, he often joked.
Thought it was cruel, she would never forget,
Stabbed each time with the pain of regret.
One day when they travelled out for the day.
Crossing back across country from the bay.
You’ll never guess what he took her to see.
There was her Red, as bright as can be!
Waiting for her and ready to go,
Her name on the plate he’d proudly show.
Life would surely never be the same,
They sent him away, now they’ve got him again.
Drove with the roof down, not even a care,
Windswept and laughing happy to share.
They drove him back home with wondrous smiles,
As he readily ate up the miles.
Swept up in a moment he’s back here to stay.
We never really, should have sent him away.
Should let you all know, that as I recall,
He’s not very little, there’s room for us all
The tale of Boomerang, was once little red.
You should keep him forever, That’s what he said.

George’s Hidden Treasure

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When we came and found it,
We looked here and there.
Picked a spot to sit,
but wasn’t even a chair.
I thought I’d tell what I know about George,
And the friendship that we would forge.
You see, the house it had been stripped,
Of all his worldly goods.
Or so we thought, as we tripped,
Around the sheds and woods.
But as we ventured all around,
The odd treasure still to be found.
An occasional thing had been replaced,
Or scattered about, a little defaced.
In the sheds hung his old tools,
The scavengers, were only fools.
Inside the house there was a table,
But with small minds they weren’t able.
For a moment to stop and think,
As to why it was covered in ink.
I wanted to do a little research,
In the garden, of pine and birch.
There’s bottles and baskets and old clothes,
Digging around an old treasure trove.

Picture a place with a scene of beauty,
Looking around at nature’s bounty.
A place filled with such mystery,
As I began to research his story.
There were pots that had been made by hand,
Strange things I’d found buried on the land.
Antique ladders, a walking stick
To get you about when you’re in the thick.
A painting or two hidden above the stair,
Behind the wall when I stripped it bare.
Writing was not just his legacy,
He was an artist who craved to be free.
Visiting ladies to the hilltop would clamour,
To his studio to sit, with none of the glamour.
He would sit alone and he’d paint
In the house, so cold and very quaint.
Perhaps he had some heating supply,
Upon which he could rely.
There disrobed on a couch she might lay,
Whilst the farmer was off, making hay.

Around these parts it was said, he’s a scribe,
The odd bottle of brandy was known to imbibe.
Walking around, you should take a look
Searched to find copies of his book.
For this is the place he chose to reside,
Next to the house where the horses will ride.
Lived there alone and up there he hunted,
With coldness of winter he was confronted.
Wrote books about writing and he had laid claim,
of stories and cooking which wasn’t so plain.
There was a short doorway, it wasn’t so tall,
But it did for him, he was decidedly small.
Some time ago I read of his travels,
But with time, the story unravels.
But over the years, the things that he crafted
Remain buried here and they’ve lasted.
Things he created, sit out the back,
There in the garden, a wonderful plaque.
His scattered remains of the man he once was,
We leave it right there, just because.
Although the scribe has temporarily vacated,
The delight to share, is unabated.
The place where he once took his pleasure,
He still resides in his time of leisure.
As guardians here now we’ve been sent,
His spirit has shown, for us it was meant.
For right up here might be where it began,
The house that belonged to a little wee man.
He visited once to bid us adieu
Now raising a glass to him, Salut.