Borders - by
That sound outside, near Sandyhills bridge,
/ along Barnhourie Burn, a high wild wailing
/ winding down to a long low growl of echo,
/ has…
haunting
Bela Lugosi in Stornoway - by
I was definitely typed, doomed
to be an exponent of evil
From Macbeth - by
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
/ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
/ I have thee…
A Dead Man - by
A dead man dead for weeks
/ Is sickening food for lover’s eye
/ That seeks and ever seeks
/ A fair one’s beauty…
Hallaig - by
‘Tha tìm, am fiadh, an coille Hallaig’
/
/ Tha bùird is tàirnean air an uinneig
/ trom faca mi an Àird Iar
/ ’s tha mo…
The Haunt - by
Betwixt of January,
the year’s scantest trawl.
Loch Avon - by
Loch A’an, Loch A’an, hoo deep ye lie!
/ Tell nane yer depth and nane shall I.
/ Bricht though yer deepmaist pit may…
The Prelude - by
an extract
/
/ She was an elfin Pinnace; lustily
/ I dipp’d my oars into the silent Lake,
/ And, as I rose upon the stroke,…
The Charming Nancy - by
She is out there somewhere,
/ creaking in the swell
/ of the green lough water,
/ oozing sugar
/ and black-market nicotine
/ into the river’s vein.
/
/ She stirs herself…