spring joy
day breaks in coral
dawn and white rose share secrets ~
dewdrops sprinkle glitz
fog spills over hills
winds of change swirl wispy clouds ~
doves coo limericks
bountiful spring rains
wild oats take over garden ~
now the need to weed
warm weather returns
rainstorms take a vacation ~
spring wears thick sunscreen
droplets of glitter
splash across meadows ~
tartans of flowers
rich earth births poppies
orange hues trickle to earth ~
champagne wildflowers
5-8-23
Weekend away in medieval castle
Traveling to Scotland on overnight train
Read the account of Culloden battle
Highlanders lost cherished domain.
Eyes feeling heavy am swept away
living the moment from long ago
Brave clan tartans fought that day
Historically painful tale of woe.
Gossamer mist invades my dream
Long dead minstrel sings of noble deed
Ghostly features with passion gleam
He's haunted by unspoken need
His presence powerful when I awake
Know exactly what he aspires too
Culloden fields he cannot forsake
To clan markers I go, together we view.
High on the moor, the wind is fierce
His spirit returns to his long lost past
Feel my heart so gently pierced
He's returned to highland roots at last.
Holed up in a Scottish flat
all day from six to three,
stuffin' my gob with Vol-au-vent
and pots of English tea.
As ocean slaps the briny stones
and swirls the salty air,
I'd rather be in my own home
than sitting in this chair.
Too late to fetch a midwife,
too far to drive the quay,
While he's at work
up here I stay,
'til someone comes for me.
I pull myself up to the sash;
the window shares a view,
of children in their uniforms
with tartans green and blue.
They walk the steep, uneven lanes
and giggle as they play,
And soon at last -
my own sweet lass
will do the same one day.
Villanelle: French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Dedicated to the great French actor, Off Course!
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Must you invite high breeds to the Hebrides
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
Starved Loch Ness Monster kept well out of view
For this Gourmet eats even monster breeds
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Medieval monarchs gulped innerns – rest threw
To the serfs lords ladies dogs and hybrids
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
French Gourmand let Scots talk their tartans through
Venison loins he carved out for his needs
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Goths Visigoths Vikings Normans or Dieu*
Falstaff nose and paunch hide much actor’s deeds
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
Eiffel Tower Louvre Versailles nothing new
Mountain Man kept apart Scylla Charibdis
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
• Dieu: God, but French pronunciation, please!
He might take exception.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
16th April 1746
The day a country ceased to exist
British Army, Hanoverian scum
Defeated our Jacobite's
Scotland's is on the run
Our Tartans banished, bagpipes no more
To lead our troops, to frighten the foe
Cumberland's men hunt us down
In every village and every town
Massacred, slaughtered
Wiped from our earth
Erased from the country of our birth
2000 men died to fight for their right
Against the British Armies might
Cameron's, MacDonald's and Fraser's slain
Many other Clans, population drained
The survivors facing Hanoverian bans
Led to
The Scattering of the Clans
The Clan Chiefs lands, vast and many
Asset stripped, taken by the enemy
Alleged traitors tried, treason their crime
As Hanoverian Scum, on our riches dine
In the aftermath, many Scots left their shores
To distant lands to open new doors
Many writers on here
On their Ancestors scan
You may be here, because of
The Scattering Of The Clans
A new day awakens in a bonnie Scottish Glen
As I await the morning sunshine peeking over the Ben
Standing at the door of my centuries old croft
The wild fern's arise as the rays makes them loft
A calming soothing trickle delights my morning ears
Meandering through purple heathers as it's done for many years
Hooded crows show their presence, then silence in quietness fall
In timid look they perch, as they hear a Golden Eagles call
The baaing of the sheep resonate from down the Glen
Freedom to roam they are in the land of crofting men
Above the sun now shines amidst a sky of Saltire blue
This land of clans and tartans, through my eyes you'll see my view
Upon the grass I sit, as I marvel at my surrounds
And my desire for a maiden, to share my Highland grounds
A mid morning stroll I take to absorb just where I am
I start thinking to myself, "aye I'm one of Alba's sons"
Igneous stones
All greyed with age
Scatter the hillside
In greened moss stage
Forests of pine
Patch blankets of tree's
Fenced from the deer
Who eat as they please
Heather bloomed purples
Carpet the ground
Ferns like fans
In the winds, rebound
Mountains of the glen
Over 3000 feet
Munro's to climbers
Incredible feats
The roads to the isles
Passages to the sea
To the Isle of Skye
The west of my country
Nearly 800 islands
Coastal Sporadic
Invaded by many
Celtic and Nordic
Thermals so high
Where the Eagle soars
Rivers and falls
In waterfall roar
Tartans and whiskey
Gaelic and pipes
Highland Glen's for scenery
There's nothing alike
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
16th April 1746
The day a country ceased to exist
British Army, Hanoverian scum
Defeated our Jacobite's
Scotland is on the run
Our Tartans banished, bagpipes no more
To lead our troops, to frighten the foe
Cumberland's men hunt us down
In every village and every town
Massacred, slaughtered
Wiped from our earth
Erased from the country of our birth
2000 men died to fight for their right
Against the British Armies might
Cameron's MacDonald's and Fraser's slain
Many other Clans, population drained
The survivors facing Hanoverian bans
Led to
The Scattering of the Clans
The Clan Chiefs lands, vast and many
Asset stripped, taken by the enemy
Alleged traitors tried, treason their crime
As Hanoverian Scum, on our riches dine
In the aftermath, many Scots left their shores
To distant lands to open new doors
Many writers on here
On their Ancestors scan
You may be here, because of
The Scattering Of The Clans
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
Tradition and dress
A nations finesse
Symbolic in style
By a country mile
The drone of the pipes
Tartan clad
Bonnie on the girls
Proud on the lads
Highland dancers
In kilted skirts
Grooms at weddings
Kilt and dirk
But our Tartan and Pipes
Go back many years
Led soldiers into battles
See the enemy fear
After Culloden
Both were banned
A country naked
At the English hand
Our clans of many
In colours so grand
Woven by weavers
Our women's hands
All over the world
Scots are spread
Taking their Tartans
Of green, blue and red
It's a welcome reminder
To the kin of their past
Never forgotten
Designed to last
This plaid of cloth
History enriched
Scottish pride
In every stitch
And like our pipes
From centuries past
This Scottish of Scots
Are here to last
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
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