Forest Song

If we'd but time to wander through,
The forests of our minds anew,
What fairytales would there unfold?
What secrets of our souls be told?

In whispered rustles mighty trees
May yet enchant their erstwhile leaves,
To tempt us from our narrow paths,
Lead us to glades where danger laughs

At timid eyes which dare to glance,
See hidden truths amid the dance
Which heaves and sighs and calls us on,
While we play deaf to nature's song.

For in that wood of soul-filled spires,
Which stretch and bend with sheaved desires,
Are many trees of light and hue,
No cloned or man-made avenue

Can capture hearts transformed with seasons,
Respecting not the need for reasons
To either bloom, or fall in turn,
Be evergreen, or yearly burn,

And yet be all, though none complete,
To choose one branch would yet defeat                                
Our spirits flight from soaring high,

Or laying still to watch the sky,

That filled with stars, yet loves the day,
Adores its rest but longs to play
In undergrowth of Autumn fruits,
Whose fallen jewels will send spring's shoots

To live again, though dreams be broken,
Hopes be drowned by strorms which soaken
Every wish we'd see come true.
We'll drink their power, and hence, renew.

Wha's Mental???

Wee bit of poetry in Scots for ma twa wee witches. #poetober continues...

"Ken, yer maw's mental!"
That's wit the bairns a' cry,
Tae ma twa queans,
Wha climb up trees,
An' jump oot tryin tae fly.

"Ken, yer maw's a loony!"
A've heard the bullies say,
While twa wee lassies
Squelch in mud
An' hunt for sticks tae play.

"Ken, yer maw's a nutjob!"
The bored wans fret an' tease,
But laughter fills
Ma sweetheart's ears,
As they imagine a' they please.

"Ken, yer maw's a ____"
But they've caught the wee yin's eye,
An she's stuck them wi
A look sae fierce
It'd make the de'il die.

"Ma maw's no a nutter,"
Her cackling voice explains,
"She's a witch,
Who brews up spells,
Tae transform nasty weans."

"Intae a' sorts o' monsters,"
Her sister comes tae add,
"That eat their taes,
An' breathe oot smells,
That couldnae be mair bad.

Her powers are Tremendous,
Yer right tae look sae scared,
For come the night
O' Hallowe'en,
Ye better be prepared."

An' noo they've got them runnin',
As they shout "She's after you!
But the thing ye'll wish
Ye'd ken't the maist,
Is that we are witches too!"

Seeds of Neverland

 
What fog filled furrows fuse my dreams,
Of summer rains, while autumn gleams,
Into a mist of mem'ried pain,
Of seeds, I shall not sow again.

Now Gravestone bails that stand so bold,
In lonesome fields of fog so cold
It steals my soul as I ramble through,
Engulfs with pain and bond like glue.

What do they know, what could they tell,
Those rolls of hay, wrapped up so well?
A summer's store of sunshine blessed,
Enclosed within a love that rests?

Such heat that lives inside those swirls,
Cannot escape, nor yet unfurls,
Into my heart to live forever,
Grows only in the Land of Never.

 
I seek the sun to burn the sorrow,
Drink up this veil and light tomorrow,
But the haar enrobes as dark descends,
And my tears ask when the torment ends.


For, what looks so gentle, hurts to touch,

To wander bare foot asks too much

Of a soul that searches but knows not why,

In sharp cut fields of fog filled sky.

As dawn approaches I drink the dew,

Of a hope that's promised each day anew,

And I try to believe, with a cynic's heart,
As I smile at the world, and walk on, in my part.

A Harvest Dream

When Harvest Moons ascend in Autumn skies,

And peach kissed sun beams dance til their last breath,

Our hope does not fly out as summer dies,

But bathes itself in light and conquers death.

The geese come fast to winter on our land,

In hundreds strong to make their voices heard.

They gather now with space to only stand,

The quiet dream at last with millions shared.

With vigour flows our passion once again,

A chorus echoes loud from every field.

United songs sing strong from every pen,

Our movement has its time and shall not yield.

For now the path we seek is lit and clear

As one, we take each step, our prize is near.

Dig-in Scotland

We sit on the eve of the Autumn equinox and mourn our summer dream, which shall shine no more. Yet for strange noctornal creatures like me, there is daring delight in the dark nights which whisper their welcome to wounded hearts.

Our harvest did not bear the fruit of the blossoms which we had dared to cultivate. Our toil did not yield what was deserved for this great rich land, which we love so much. For so sometimes it must be, without a nod to reason, logic or fairness, often the most beloved and tended seed, stubbornly refuses to grow.

But the wounded farmer does not give up. For now is the time to enrich our soil. If we are willing to plough our unripened failures back into the cooling earth, we will nourish the very soul of our argument and feed the lifeforce that will allow it to flourish again.

Many times the bulb planted in the early warmth of spring will disappoint but though an autumn sowing has no chance of an early reward, the patient farmer knows the long wait will be worth it, when at last the harvest bins are full.

What happens in those long dark dormant months is nothing short of miraculous. For without their hardship, the Spring would have no foundation. In truth, they are not dormant at all. The frost to come will only serve to break up the ground for us. We must embrace it. For those who hope to strip our land of strength do not understand its true riches and they will be confused by our faith.

We must now furrow the heat of our spoiled summer back into every field. The fruit that did not ripen must not be wasted. For though we did not eat of it fully, the new seeds which have set are many in number, and they are ripe to take up the task. 

Let us cast those seeds now to the autumn winds in faith and hope that we have gathered them well. Let us brew up a winter storm that will refresh our vigour and blow out the rotten that must fall away. 

For in the dark, we can dream unseen. In the dark, we will grow un-noticed.

  

Dig-in Scotland, dig-in. 

For in the Spring, our shoots will shatter their slumber once more...