Beyond the threeways
where the trees grow
askant the westerlies
and the sunlight slips shadows
aslant the road
there stands
a wee grey kirk
Many times when business takes me to Mull
I have walked past it and the old standing stone
beyond in the kye-fauld and thought nothing
of bauchles and ghosties and wailing spirits
no harm in the green lanes of Mull-of-the-trees
I spied a Highlander
clad in the granite-grey
of the trees and the road
the stone and the house of God
the daylight and
the mountainside
at the kirk door
I took him at a distance for the minister there
and I know he paused and looked my way then
with deliberation pushed the heavy door open
stepping inside into safety and into the gloom
that gathered as evening fell on Mull-of-the-trees
It took a slow minute
to walk up to the gate
no breath of breeze
I tried the door that would not yield
no window glimmered
I knocked and no soul
answered at Gruline Kirk
The silence was absolute and grim in its totality
I knew I was alone beside the seldom-trod road
for miles no living thing but sheep and crying hawks
I passed on casting half a look at the standing-stone
and shivered for my safety in Mull-of-the-trees
Author notes
A few notes for anyone not familiar with Scotland.
Gruline Kirk (church) is a real building, and I had this experience there. There is a standing-stone nearby, and I have written elsewhere of it http://allpoetry.com/poem/2247826 The Island of Mull was once known, in Gaelic, as "Mull-of-the-trees".
I will explain a few words. "Kye-fauld" is a cow-field or cattle-enclosure. "Bauchle" is a spectre or bogey-man.
In a list
A contest entry
- The Paranormal State ..... by Hekate.
390 points, ended March 31, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Tales of fantasy by Amazira.
600 points, ended April 2, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Authentic tone
When I first read it, I fell in love with it. (I'm part Scottish My name means 'strong man' in Gaelic. Part of the MacDonald clan) So, its magic weaved a spell on me. It is hands down, a beautiful write -
The language is right on the mark
You could enter it into my fantasy contest. It's a beautiful spell you weave into threads of reality. An experience of crossing into the spiritual. Love the read for its authenticity. It cast a net on me drawing me in
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Well thank you for the comment. I shall certainly look into the contest.
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This is an unusual poem, filled with image and creepy. I tried to read it out loud but I couldn’t; no offence but you talk funny.
Love,
Amera
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So do you
M
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This is awesome! Well, in a weird creepy haunting sort of way. Thank you for your details in the notes. Thanks for sharing your paranormal experience
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My pleasure.
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I love the poem--it gives this reader goosebumps--but I find the lack of punctuation a barrier. Not a serious one, however. The poem's good anyway.
Bill
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Remember what I told you about "dirty pretty"? Well, what I sometimes try to acheive with free verse, and with some structured verse, is what I call "cleaned-up pretty" (that's what I called it to the girl who introduced me to d/p). Essentially, I try to let the form or (in the case of free verse) the shape of the lines dictate or replace as much of the punctuation as I can get away with. To my mind it works. To others maybe not. To one reviewer I know it is total anathema.
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Haunting and evocative.
I've only been to Mull once (it rained!) but it is a beautiful place and I suspect very good for feelings of isolation and solitude.
Love the poem too!
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