Words

Words swirl around in my brain,

Each seeking the immortality of the page.

Some like sparks have a short life,

Others more persistent invade my sleep.

Use me they cry, let me speak for you.

And I seek for order and rhyme.

 

Words swirl around on my in my brain.

Some seeking freedom and escape are violent.

Others loving and seductive gently probe their prison.

Why can’t they leave me alone?

And I seek for order and rhyme.

 

Words swirl around in my brain.

I reluctantly take up the pen.

They now more excited,

like dogs plead the release.

While White Paper lies blankly before me.

With fear and trepidation I begin to write,

And I seek for order and rhyme.

 

Words swirl around in my brain.

Too late, they cry, for order and rhyme.

They pour out onto the page.

Caring only for freedom they ignore me.

Pushing and shoving they become visible.

And I seek for order and rhyme.

THOUGHTS ON CULLODEN MOOR

I may have the full fleshed body of a Sassenach
But I have a Scottish heart, not the heart
of a see you Jimmy Lowlander
But at the heart that stood on a cold
sleet filled Moor on a Wednesday morning
And felt the thrill of fear and the heat of battle

I may have the glib tongue of the Queen’s English
But I have the heart of a poet, not the heart of a McGonigal
But the heart that sings of the Glen and clan
A Song of enclosure and exile a Song of return and renewal
A song that sings of hill and stream of Stag and Rut

Oh I may have the full flesh body of a Sassenach and an English tongue
But I have a Scottish heart the heart and soul of the Highlander
And the blood runs hot, and the song rings out on Rannoch Moor
To a lost time and a time long past by and a time yet to come
When the Clans gather, and the Highland heart is one again