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The Red Moss of Glen Affric

The phantoms of Glen Affric call from deep within the histosol, where time and matter’s slow decay of misty glen and ancient fray, conceal Mackenzie ghosts in wait with weapons drawn to greet their fate of claymore blade; of Celtic cross, to shed the blood of William Ross, and stain the sphagnum bryophyte, his soul to cut and extradite. Amidst the whipping hilltop squall is heard their eerie battle call, where shadow soldiers groan and splay upon the hazy, darkened brae. As well, the loose of blood and spate, to curse the earth and consecrate; the peat to quench; the land emboss, forever running red the moss.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 3/28/2020 6:31:00 AM
An immediately striking poem with traditional form rhythm and rhyme (not to mention an education in Scottish soil and flora!). Rousing patriotic verse deserving a prime place in any associated anthology. Very well done, Thvia.
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Date: 9/9/2019 6:40:00 PM
Hello Thvia Shetley, You did well with this poem. I have enjoyed it. have a nice evening my friend.
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Date: 8/12/2019 2:21:00 AM
Why this does not have a billion comments is beyond me. If this were poetrysoup of old I would have given it a string of sevens. A fabulous write and a fav of mine
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Marugu Mo
Date: 8/12/2019 3:43:00 AM
I hope it does come back. Circa 2012 to 2015 ps was definitely different. Thanks for your kind comments on my poetry
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Thvia Shetley
Date: 8/12/2019 3:30:00 AM
Thank you for your kind words. I post very infrequently and have definitely noticed a decline in interaction on the site. I hope it makes a comeback.