Humanity - by
You can tire of island lifeSalt Sea Sky Open space. A crowded streetSprayed name on red brick wallIs a visual treatAnd people People People.
islands
The Island - by
There are so many, and each oneIts own. But why this, and this still?Was there a sign? Perhaps justThe ancient, utter silence, a hawkHanging upon emptiness aloneBetween the cyclopean cliffs.Leaving the quay, the rusty steamer,The narrow, huddled, whitewashed street,We scrambled upward to the sky.Upon the crest a monasteryHewn from salt, and in the hills beyondA […]
Islander - by
A few treeless meadows awaited your text
amid the overtones of Rackwick where next
to scriptory herds, you sermonised to shoals
how poetry’s an archipelago of souls:
Hoy Sound - by
Scroll
A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir - by
A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir, fada bhuat, a luaidh, mo thòir; a nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir, gur fada bhuatsa mo bhròn. Mi nochd air linne Ratharsair, ‘s mo làmh air an stiùir, a’ ghaoth gu neo-airstealach a’ crathadh an t-siùil, mo chridhe gu balbh, cràiteach an dèidh do chiùil, an là an-diugh ‘s […]
Canna – can - by
It seems some Calvinist has been there / naming the island…
Sphagnum Moss - by
Sphagnum moss remembers. It recalls
/ the touchdown of each lark that tumbles
/ down upon its surface, the slightness of that weight
/ recorded…
To Ailsa Rock - by
Hearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid!
/ Give answer from thy voice – the sea-fowl’s screams!
/ When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams?
/ When…
Flying Garuda over Java - by
Edge out of the night
/ and contemplate one of nature’s
/ most sublime spectacles…
Columcille - by
Exile I am, for to the last, I carry in my
/ heart the oak groves of Derry with their
/ white angels…
Untitled (no. 54) - by
This page is a cloud between whose fraying edges
/ a headland with mountains appears brokenly
/ then is hidden again until what emerges
/ from…
Punctuation Marks - by
Where sea and land meet, begin there.
/ The ampersand, the join, is a fault
/ which caused jagged peaks to rise –
/ from…