Part Two : The Tale of Artuir mac Aedan; The light of the West
(A tale of the hero of legend, a hero of Dalriada, who tried to unite a nation.)
The Old Man.
Was he a fool steeped in pagan lore,
to stand against the new religions door,
deaf ears against his word and actions,
ostracised and ignored by folk called kin,
shouted at him youll pay for deceit and sin.
At Artherydd in Rheged land took an army,
against Strath Clywd,s might with Dal Riatan,
allies led by Aedan and Ryderch Hoel kings,
of might and strength whose fame spread far,
Myrddyn stood against them and great was the slaughter.
Madness took him at all the blood and death,
spurred his horse in frantic escape to the north,
the great forest of Caledon opened her arms ,
and took him to hide and vanished from life,
to this day it is said his wails and cries,still are heard.
andrew mcintyre 10/01/2024.(c).
Watching the ripples of the clear water of the Spey
Setting sun lighting field and trees of the strath
Salmon jumping clear to catch a fly
A sob as water runs from my eye.
Doon tae the firth o moray runs the water
Taking my thochts and dreams far away
Ne,er again tae be born a new
Loast forever in the melee o life
On on fast running Spey taking all hopes and despair
Wi me sleeping and floating in yer watter clear
Oan ma back spotting a hawk hover in azure sky
Lids closing tight oan ma blearie eye.
Music o the water soothing
Chuckled, the muse of delight
A Peach orchard had wandering paths
Lost in the myriad of thoughts on love
The Moon so full, on that eve
Led to where a few longings be
Whilst Jasmine captured memories
Tumbling at night, under those trees
Tangled auburn hair and yours’ black
Groped together, there under stars
The horned owl watched, questioning looks
Embracing, as one, along time ago
The aroma of peaches tossed to and fro
Walked lingering, my bare feet met strath
The Jasmine whispered, would we come back?
I don’t know, I replied, and "that is that"
The Peach branches blew so soft
The Moon lit the meandering path
I wondered then, what life might bring
Would I ever find this way again
Saying goodbye to the orchard at eighteen
Have not traveled that path since then
But, aromatic memories, so fond
Still permeate the memories in my mind
Once in awhile I smile
Relishing my youthful passionate quests
©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved
© Bonnie Jennings 2016 All Rights Reserved. Thank you
My Home in The Glenn
Passing the glen walking a curving path
Following the red bird, skipping on strath
Trees bend with the winds beaconing
Their invitations to come into the forest
Tall and thick with shadows moving
With ghost lingering, along the road
An overgrown trail of brush and weeds
Little tiny flowers from meandering seeds
Stones and thickets where the doe sleeps
Their fawn suckles until winters birth
The rabbit and the kids nibbling
Eating forest tarots and sweet leaves
She wanders home despite any threats
Her home rests peacefully in the trees
The lights shine welcoming her home
A time to dance and celebrate
A home tucked privately within the small glen
©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved
Like the bright sun in the heavenly sky,
Thy presence enlights mine everyday path.
Eyes of angels and smile that makes shy
He who fall onto its trap like a strath.
I dare'd not look beyond thy dainty eyes
For I fear seeing them for the last time.
Yet, I am feeling the near broken ties
Which hold us together for a lifetime.
Perhaps 'tis the last time I'll hold you close
Enough to feel our harmonized heart.
I Refuse to make the same gaffe and chose
To touch thy lips with mine before we part.
Only to open my eyes to bright beam
Of the morning sun from a lucid dream
Ye ancient land O’ bonnie hue
A bonnie haze on lochs of black
Divide the colour, take me back
To wash my eyes with Fall, imbue
The highlands with a McCulloch hand
Take me back to Autumnland
Softly, softly toes on glens
I trod the braes the peaceful host
The quiescent land of Wallace’s ghost
Once horror valleys shroud in the ben
A witness to yon fallen clans
Take me back to Autumnland
A rugged Skye of misty chill
A blanket cloud a calming bourne
From the mystic sea in gloam and morn
To a hazel lass in tartan twill
Proverbially by the shore she stands
Oh take me back to Autumnland
Oh let me freely stray the moors
Wind the strath of Gaelic roams
Before the low road takes me home
Still and steep in treasured lore
Aye take me back to Autumnland
Take me back to Scotland