Anida Mann & Baron Ready
April Showers & Wade Rivers
Bertha Saylor & Abel Crews
Bunny Bunns & Wilt Dailey
Burl E Pecker & Phyllis Upman
Candy Cane & Hedon Succor
Chastity B. Lowe & Noah Hoare
Crystal Clear & Robin Blind
Demi Tasse & Felix Ottic
Emery Board & Harry Burns
Fanny B Hind & Gopher Broke
Gaye B Hind & Ben Dover
Helen Highwater & Goliath Yonder
Iona Studd & Frank Lee Smutt
Ivy Nurse & Levi Tate
Judy Light & Christian Dark
Kitty Purring & Lyon Bastard
Libby Doe & Ida Wannamaker
Lily White & Cole Black
Lucy Furr & Gene Splicer
Master Bader & Linda Hand
Minnie Crumbs & Graham Krakurs
Mona Lott & Val A Parker
Nona Fleet & Barret Awl
Ophelia Balls & Les de Witt
Penny Pincher & August Spender
Peter Fountain & Neva Swallow
Querida Quaker & Axel Greece
Randy Longfellow & May B. Knott
Sandy Beech & Rip Tyde
Tim Burr & Betty Falls
Uma Sermon & Caesar Bush
Venus de Flower & Jerry Attric
Wanda Liquor & Hugo Furst
Willow Whisper & Neil Down
Winona Bett & Willfred Harden
Xina Rating & Tanner Hyde
Yvonne Adam & Rock N Eden
Zinnia Flowers & Owen Breeders
Paige Turner & Justin Thyme
Here
where God is sought out
not in simile of rock and sea
We say
this is how it will be
when we know him
But he is now
In this serene extravagance
he comes to me
Far from all we made
standing where our brethren prayed
he is here
Enough
for now
is now
The larks’ soliloquy
and waves hushing far below
say to me
he is here
5.00
The time for frost has not arrived, the morning sunlight’s dampened
by the chill of evening dew, the grass still grows though slowly now.
Within, chill copper pipes ping, once again breaking the silence of night.
The field mice come unwelcomed to their winter nests inside my walls.
Morning glories, mere days ago abundant now shiver in the shade.
Dropped seed must wait until the springtime’s sun to rise, to grow.
Clothes in closets all packed high, shelves to ceiling, must topple down.
Release the felted wool, the flannel bright, the knitted sweaters of Iona.
The pumpkins wait impatiently upon a field of green, crisped, vines.
Still connected to the prickling twine and fan like leaves, the blossoms fail.
And, I reflect within a picture perfect room, of what has been and what is.
The light of day’s a graying tone of mourning, whose length slowly fades away.
First Published in Eunoia 4/6/14
On this ship I'll cruise the Scottish Isles
Coast on coast for many a mile
Rocks and sand, castles that are grand
Beauty that has been graced by many hands
Isle of Iona what a dream
Where the beautiful stone Abbey can be seen
Much of your beauty destroyed over the years
Hope of restoration somehow calms all fears
Isle of Arran twenty miles long and fifty-six around
Palm Trees grace your lush land
Divide by the Highland Boundary Fault that bounds
The north rugged and hilly with south gentle as sand
So many isles over seven hundred in all
One cruises on the imaginary ship all night long
From low lands, craggy hill and mountains tall
Each night I'll cruise the imagination with song
Contest:"Indulge Me Scottish Style"
Sponsor: Thvia Shetley
Oh, write tae me of the highlands,
the crisp air and the damp.
Write tae me of the heather'd fields
'ere Bonnie Charlie danced.
Oh, place yo'r quill upon the page
and dream a fey song wit me,
of rock tor's an' crags an' fiords
which join the raging sea.
Of fair Iona, the Isle of Sky
the Inner Hebrides.
Hike yo'r kilt, strap on the uilleann
and keen a sweet song for me.
Oh, dinnae tarry beyond the pale,
with the wail of the brash banshee.
*Written in dialect in the style of Robert Burns
**Dedicated to our Jamie our own Highlander
With your waters so blue,
And your sands a crisp white,
I had never expected,
Quite a delight,
I had come from the mainland,
To this distant isle,
A Hebridean beauty,
A trip so worthwhile,
St Columba had come,
And here he would stay,
He made it the isle,
For the Christians to pray,
The Abbey was built,
And our Kings buried here,
A place full of worship,
From far and from near,
And right to this day,
Christians cross to this isle,
St Columbas 'Iona',
A place we can smile.
The mist settles on my face.
My head tilts back stiffly.
Eyes are wedged shut from the bright light,
Seeing purple, and spots from squinting too tight.
I can't even look.
I feel the movement and rush of the water below, the sway.
The smell of the sea and petrol quickens my stomach.
I hear the seagulls circling nearby, and one, even lands near my head.
Startled, I open my eyes to a blurry world.
I jump back, only to glimpse it flying away..
Had I only been still, maybe a secret he'd have shared.
Or did he just want the crust of bread I didn't have?
The haunting ruin to the left takes my breath.
The atmosphere cool and distant.
I can't move.