Drawing Trip To The outer hebrides

After returning from a short drawing trip to Lewis and Harris, new resolve to take up blogging again. Here are three poems I wrote during the trip as we stayed in a Gatliff hostel in Rhenigidale,a cliff-top bothy in Mangusta and a relatives home in Berneray, North Uist.

Rhenigidale

Lizzie lit a fire in the squirrell by way of announcing our arrival
And now, rally against the all too steep wind,
left below, a single malt moon.
Only to revolve and press the weight of heels on toes,
On our steep incline towards the sea and the waiting window.
I told you I could sense for a little while
One dreamed of traveller who may have rounded this epic bend or that
To face the rose or rowan
And trade german gun for Gatliff gate.


Mangustadh

A white wind blows from Rhenigidale to mangustadh,
And winters bitter whisper slips beneath her overcoats,
Who cares if the cattle are herded back into the steaming barn.
Or the cat curls asleep on the wrong side of the kitchen door.
He takes her, empty-handed, to the rough hewn bothy,
And tells fairy tales of funny murderers and cliff face dancers.
She thinks them all kind and generous,
but takes more care with the fragile eggs nestled in her palm.

Berneray

If I was a braver man, I would grow vegetables.
My leeks would wave at passers-by
And my sprouts would wink at the girls on their way to church,
Not for me the island fair and its home baking stall
I would walk eight miles or more in the snow
And risk life and swollen limb but never leave you in the lusrh.

If I was a dare-devil, I would eat only vegetables
And take my medicine like a man.
I would train the devil dog who barked at you when you passed,
And people would wonder why it was that I became
The kind of man who grows vegetables