A haven, hovel and heaven

The gentle drizzle mists over
Settling insignificantly, quietly
Casting a spell, of silk
Across the views in the distance

The hills stretch endlessly
Sitting in the valley, sheltered
Far from accidental visitors
The bothy a cottage, a story

Sitting on the step listening
The peace envelopes you
Birds singing their songs
Spring shares its promise of joy

The shades of brown and grey
Slowly changing to greens
The stream burbles gently
Searching for the lowest point

At the back the deer watches
Me, the invader in its space
Knows I am no threat and skips,
A white tail departing swiftly

The space, quiet and peace
A refuge from the real world
A haven, hovel and heaven
Home of past and rest of present.

going somewhere, nowhere

Sitting, watching, waiting
People buzzing by bags behind
Like bees swarming from a hive
All going somewhere, nowhere

Young and old a common objective
Homewards, holiday wards
Tickets in hand, cards in purses
Permission to leave

Teenagers sitting, laughing together
Blowing balloons making squeeks
Others frowning, some smiling
Many old before their times

The pensioner strides through
The world is his for the taking
Both hands holding tight
Only one lifetime, live it!

Walking sticks, walking wounded
Bright bags, big hair
Short skirts, strange sights
Baggy trousers, bulging bellies

Glimpses held, avoided
Heads down, heads held high
The busy station, a melting pot
Humanity, going somewhere, nowhere

Firmly planted

The snow capped mountains
Slowly shed their cloak
The sloughing of the skin
The white becomes brown again

The corries, their fissures hidden
Their slopes a playground
Skis and snowboards careering
Downwards to return to the start

Walkers shouldering sacks
Routes hidden, crampons on
Each journey into the known, unknown
Risks to be taken and treasured

As I stand wondering firmly planted
At base level eyes raised
Will I reach the heights again?
Can I achieve the unachievable!

Winter sands

Standing by the loch

Looking outwards

Wistfully watching

Breeze rustling twigs

Waves, not real ones

Wash gently, slowly

On the man-made beach

Sloping to the waterline

The boat bobs unmanned

Free from prying hands

Cold and lonely

An engine without spark

The winter chill warming

Spring not yet holding

The sand warm between toes

After the barefoot stream

The child plays happily

Sand collected together

Mounds of spoil swept

With love and joy

A cold shower shared

Sheltered by the shed

Passes without malice

Wind ushering onwards

As eyes survey the space

The peace and freedom

Visions of joy shared

Old become young.

Broken but not lost

Standing in the ruin of a religious past
The mission, the story, the decay
Stone clinging to stone, the abbey,
a centre of something strong, something gone.

Walls feet thick, broken and lost
Remanants and battlements, standing proud
Fractures and fissures, fallen angles
A centre of power, of peace and people.

Gravestones, tables and plaques
Telling of people long gone, families
Sharing a piece of Moravia, a sacred space
The writing there long after the memories

Old and new, the historic and the recent
Flyers encased in their last stand
Preserving our skies for peace, for freedom
To see and share the sky no more

The vision of greatness lost to all, Preserved lightly
Remind us of the prior, the present and yet to come
Were here, are here and will be
Long after we are but dust and dim memories

Watching mountains

Travelled together map in hand
The day explored
The joy of mountains
The challenge of height

Marching through trees
Climbing steadily upwards
No view to see or savour
Just the vision of hope

The ascent begins in earnest
The crook between
The saddle of the hill
The single gap between two

Skirting round, finding feet
Sloppy and slippery
The wind whistles wildly
Singing its own song

Onwards and upwards
Keep on moving, talking
Pushing and pulling
Tendons screaming stop

Summit summited
Rest accepted with relief
Panoramas preserved
Camera pointed memories saved

The light continuously changing
Loch Linnie ripples with shadows
The Ben clean and clear
Nothing to spoil the views

As I look across the tops
Watching the mountains
Names unpronounceable
But days and moments not forgotten

The Blunders

Here come the blunders

Quattro force
Thick as thieves
Stuck together
They all believe

Gathered closely
Noise created
Sweat fermenting
That smell is fated

Sporty Blunder
Always running
Chasing odd balls
Ouch, that’s funny

Randy blunder
Ever flirting
World of warcraft
Wow that’s hurty

Laidback blunder
Lives in dream land
Following football’s
Third rate goof band

Clever Blunder
Life’s a dream
Lowest effort
Or so it seems

Joined together
Four asunder
Making mayhem
Here come the blunders


This is specially for my oldest son and his three mates