Recollections From the Golden Cree Iii
Brackish-gurgling days that
Unobtrusively slid along
Past tussock grass and curled up
Balls of Fern...
Glued tightly onto structured vanes
Of outstretched frond.
Venerable Mosses reciting epic tales,
Measured throughout Metronomical
Strains,
Chanting methodically in harmonious
Downturn -
Wherein contained:
Foreboding dialects delivered in a
Forgotten Gaelic tongue,
Magical incantations sung in unison -
Agelessly embedded within the soothing
Refrains...
Of the ambling rivers enchantments
And mysterious, pedantic song.
Myths born from legends patiently
Abiding
Inside secretive, rocky haunts of the
Pebble-strewn burn;
Here, on silvered nights, proud
And ragged banners
Can sometimes be glimpsed
Fluttering briefly beneath the deep
Currents involuted churn;
Fleeting visitations occasionally
Manifesting...
Waiting...waiting...waiting
For the wailing of the pipes -
That unreleashed souls should so
Fervently discern!
When the rattling of the Broadsword,
Picked up by the Clan Chiefs,
Hails the long promised,
Bonnie Pretenders overdue return.
Morning rose, fell, and harshly broke
Upon Corserine
And her barren uppermost slope
Of littered shale and loosening scree...
"Aye, an dae ye no ken fram yon Trools
Forested glen" -
Over where the black spokes
Of the Raven wheels as he croaks -
"The gradual swelling sounds permeating
Down,
From high-upper grounds,
Of awakening good Ayrshire folks".
The Glasgow South-Western line yawns
And reclines
As slowly, but surely, it prepares to
Climb
Past ranked files of stiff Spruce
And Evergreen Pines.
The engineer meets the foot of the hill,
When in concentration of predetermined
Course -
Her engine an irresistible
Nature of unyielding force -
Cast metals and flying pistons
Combine
Into magnificent hurtling and streamlined
Design -
As she pours over the summit and down
The decline -
With whistle shrieking triumphant and
Shrill!
Dark lignite piled in the grimy stack
Torn from the dark earths hidden seams;
And darkly brooding the land surrounding
Acidic lochs
That hallows the boilers high pitched
Screams.
Oh those heady days of rail and steam
Where I am left to wonder...
The rollicking carriages reverberating
Across my thoughts -
Like driving hail and rolling thunder!
For still scowls sullen Dornal
Upon whose western banks
A Lairds lordly halls were built;
And ghosts abroad: Wandering spirits
Of five damned covenanters -
Whose thick red blood the indifferent
Muskets spilt!
Drumlamford House, namesake of the
loch,
Whose laid Quoin coincides
Upon the coronation of an empires
Greatest queen...
"Sleep ye peacefully beneath darkest
Meteorite-streaked Skies" -
Arisen...To rollicking white horses
Lustily disporting -
Admidst joyous flashes of the playful
Waves evasive gleam!
THESE ARE THE HAPPIEST DAYS OF MY CHILDHOOD.
TWENTY MILES OF BEAUTIFUL UNSPOILED RIVER TO ROAM AND FISH
IN THE LOWLANDS OF SCOTLAND:- THE RIVER CREE!
TO BE CONTINUED... :)
Copyright © John Fleming | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment