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Poetry Magnum Opus

A Scottish diary


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I have double vision after my eyes open

like suitcases, looking out of the window at the

pomegranate coloured twilight and a moon

of red, Perhaps I am being invited to

record my thoughts in this colour. Outside

a chorus is led by an unknown bird singing

the sky's song. I compare photographs with

memories of my travels in Scotland, recall

is different depending on the time of day

or night-they are like two tattooists whose

needles meet and conflict. Staying in Glasgow

after being in Edinburgh and comparing the two

is like trying to inflate a balloon from within.

I wonder if someone somewhere in another dimension

is recording these same events, ready with two

suitcases. I have a vague yearning for a place

never visited, that is hard to articulate, like

the rain trying to cry-perhaps it is the same

impulse that makes people want to believe in the

loch ness monster. I visited the Fyrish monument

which is now like a finger-less glove and Dunrobin

castle, contrasting the two is like stroking a crown

with a finger-less glove, but of course the glove is

equally as valuable, restitching fingers with a golden

thread. Had a ghost entered the dreams of a windhorse?,

the winds blowing from the south west on the Isle of

Skye were tremendous. I believe the underworld is overcrowded

with ghosts and they are in search of alternative accommodation.

My mind is filled with far too many images to quantify, I don't

have the movements of a windhorse, but perhaps a ghost

could enter a dream and share their judgment, which images

from the Isle of Skye are the best and which ones will remain?-

how far into the dream does the ghost have to go before being

unable to find it's way back?, it will be difficult returning home

after being stroked subtly into Scotland's slipstream and it will

be a long time before completing the cache of echoes.

My dreams about Scotland are trampled on by a windhorse, making

wine, the moon is now it's normal colour and has thinned to a

candle, maybe I could place it in a bottle with this page-the wine

will probably be pomegranate coloured. Daylight

approaches I have thoughts of Ben Nevis, people are waking, dreams

will be cascading. Now I must accord with English protocol, the night

has poured Scottish memories and my glass is full.

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This work is very readable. In fact I have read the poem several times and will return to read again. One of the brilliant threads:

 

 

 

. I believe the underworld is overcrowded

with ghosts and they are in search of alternative accommodation.

 

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Tremendous simile:

 

-they are like two tattooists whose

needles meet and conflict

 

And enjoyed this haunting portion:

 

I have a vague yearning for a place

never visited

 

Also enjoyed the imagery of "pomegranate".

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An enjoyable and worthwhile read. I also have " a vague yearning for a place never visited" . I read in my childhood the colourful novels of Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson etc: Of the magic of the Western Isles, the majesty of The Highlands and the history. Always wanted to spend some time there, (I once booked a cottage on Orkney) but exotic travel took precedence. I envy anyone who has. Well done. :smile:

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Agree with all of the above! This quote reminded me of Basho's poem " a vague yearning for a place never visited"

 

 

“In Kyoto ...”

BY BASHO

TRANSLATED BY JANE HIRSHFIELD

In Kyoto,
hearing the cuckoo,
I long for Kyoto.
Which is about the highest praise I can give;-)
Juris

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

Gate(less.png

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