2009 So far, these poems have been triggered by a visit to the music festival in Perthshire, "Perthshire Amber". In October, the land between Pitlochry and Aberfeldy was autumnal; golden leaves, snow and frost, clear blue skies, and the mysterious depths of Loch Tay.
Iron Age Dwelling: The Crannog, Loch Tay
Deep Within
There's a place I sometimes visit
Deep inside, deep within,
To give myself some peace,
To find myself, some relief
And remember who I am.
In this place it's dark and cold
And here there is no sound at all
Except a gentle voice that weeps
That life is hard, hurt runs deep
But love threads through it all.
When I'm inside, I see myself
Too close, too near, too cruelly clear,
I want to push myself away
Across the rift from night to day
Far from my other self.
I want to rise beyond the dark
Those things I've done, and all I've felt
The candle burns behind me bright
Casts dark reflections in the night
Reveals an empty silhouette.
The winter bird is frozen
There’s ice upon the stream
A heart that has not melted
Yet held in great esteem
I held my arms out to you
You’d already turned away
So, say goodbye this evening
Tomorrow I’ll have gone,
Did I do all the ringing?
Did you phone me too?
So, I booked the theatre tickets
Thought you wanted to go too.
Yes I cooked that lavish dinner,
Was it embarrassing for you?
Well, say goodbye this evening,
For tomorrow I’ll have gone.
The clock stopped at midnight,
Nothing more was said,
What was great was suddenly still
I realised then, and filled with dread,
You say, “Nothing’s changed at all,”
I went to alone to bed.
Hey, say goodbye this evening,
‘Cos tomorrow I’ll have gone,
Oh yes, tomorrow I’ll have gone.
A dark reflection staring
A cruel storm breaking
Searching for warmth
Within a stone cold heart
It's a love grown way too old.
You turn upon your pedestal
And face the opposite way
Glory flows from you to - her
Shines upon her face.
I hide among the shadows
Release you with a prayer
I said goodbye this evening
And tomorrow I’ll be gone,
Oh God, tomorrow I’ll be gone.
The great oak gives shelter
From the sweet autumn rains
But when the gold leaves drop
I despair
I face the bleak winter
The cold heart inside me
The need for protection
Against icy storms.
Walk down to the lakeside
And look through the water
There's a sunken causeway
To walk upon.
I'm seeking and finding
Revealing and feelingReach out to the shoreline
I must go on.
For I held out my right hand
And felt for the west wind
It caressed my hair
And kissed my face
The palm of your hand
Pulling me to you
Your chill breath freezes
I turn away.It's only in leaving
That you will find me
Who I was
Who I am
It is too late now
At the end of the evening
For you to think
That you can return.
(This "poem" has now been turned into a song, with guitar accompaniment.)
Embroilment
(after one business advertising sales telephone call too many)
Hi ! It’s Bob!
Oh, hi Bob...?
(WHICH Bob? WHAT Bob? WHO’s Bob? WHERE’s Bob?)
How are you today? Doing OK?
Yeah...fine thanks...... (Doesn’t sound like Bob— maybe it’s not THAT Bob!)
FANTASTIC!
(AAAAGH! SALES CALL! RED ALERT! FLASHING LIGHTS!
BUSY! Well, I was alright! Now I am NOT alright!!!)
Actually.........
Well, that’s great! Fantastic! Wonderful! Marvellous!
YOU’RE the owner of the business!
NO I’m not!
I’m not selling anything
Quite right, you’re not!
But only, just, well...all it iz, iz...
Thanks but no, no, no-no-no-no!
FANTASTIC!
Well! Worritt iz,-iz...
It won’t cost you anything...
It’s only a call to let you know...
We just happen to be in your area...
It’ll only take a minute of your time...
It’won’t cost you nothing...
All you have to do is...
It’s not MY BUSINESS!
YOU are the owner of the business!
No! NO!NO!NO!...NO!............
It’s just—well—worritt waz, waz—
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