Isle of arran

[eclipse]

The wind moves clouds like a glass 

blower, rain the fingers of ghosts

seeking the residue from whisky

coloured dreams. Rain lands on a

beach, grains of sands memories from

past lives, tide washes into a shell,

spirits long to tell the people about

their tales of Arran, an empty bottle

in the waters the echoing vowel of the

sound of Arran, the sea is time's fire

camouflaged. Can an island exhale as

the night rows away collecting lost

tears of those long gone in a bottle,

tears on a candle wait for a flame.

An island's pen is synchronised  with

ships sailing into the night

 

Visitors to this island gleam stories that

the wind carry's to king's cave from which

the moon takes a drink. Red deer sleep

-antlers are clock hands, golden eagle reaps

following an ancient unchanging protocol,

in two straight dives keeping its inner clock alive,

wings briefly a bridge between clouds. First whispers

of light arrive, keys to unlock a diary-the gorse flowers

private narrative. The wind and stories are strong enough

to carry the Arran stone through dreams, clouds, across the

wings of birds as grey seals preview stars through the sea's

glass eye. Thrift flowers grow, arrows frozen between the sun

and moon, reverse the flight, inverted dreams of sleepers play 

out through the evening, thrift flowers exist at a certain height,

how far into dreams do sleepers have to go to revive Arran

characters of old  to have a final dram before catching arrows

in empty bottles, whispering final words into glass, throwing the

bottles into the sea with the passing shadows of birds. 

[JoelJosol]

I like the music, rhythm, and the marriage of concrete with the abstract. The sea, the bottle, the island create a coherent picture for me.

[Tinker]

Hi Barry, This is what I meant in my response on my own poem.  I have read this a couple of times and I keep coming back.  The poem is dense with image and meaning.  It takes time to absorb.  Images like the following, boggle the brain and excite it at the same time. 

On ‎10‎/‎22‎/‎2018 at 1:08 AM, eclipse said:

in two straight dives keeping it's inner clock alive,

wings briefly a bridge between clouds.

Another fascinating piece.   ~~Tink

[tonyv]

Barry, I looked up the Isle of Arran, and as it's often referred to as "Scotland in miniature," I see its appeal. Although I haven't been there, it does seem you've hit the mark with this poem. There are some enjoyable recurring themes, but I think my favorite mention in this poem goes to "whiskey colored dreams."

Tony

[FrasMac]

Hi. I live within sight of the Island of Arran, and have visited often. There are doubtless many poems written and yet to be written about the island and its friendly inhabitants, including the humans!

The old farmers of Ayrshire have a saying, "If ye canna see Arran, it's raining, and if ye can see Arran, it's gaun tae rain!" - says a lot about the weather in these parts, although it does give respite at certain times, and in those times it is stunning. Lots of fine hillwalking, birdwatching, sea-life watching. A great place to retreat.

Your poem I feel does some justice to the island, already mentioned is the density of the imagery, which is full of colour in spite of the clouds, or maybe because of the clouds, as they are what bring the rain which gives Arran and indeed all of Scotland its colour and drama.

I enjoy the drama and life with which you have portrayed the island - a fitting tribute.

Nit - for accuracy, Scotch whisky has no "e" in it - it should only ever be diluted with the smallest drip of water, to release the flavours!

Thank you for a most engrossing read.

 

 

[Tinker]

Isle of Arran

Since Fraser sent me off to investigate with his compliment poem to this one, Aisla Craig. I had to come back and find what I could find.  This is incredibly beautiful country.  I so appreciate your sharing this with us.   

~~Tink

[eclipse]

thanks everyone  https://www.arranwhisky.com/about/news/171-lagg-poetry-competition