Listen to the wind, hear its resonant sound
smell the fresh green grass, where the bluebells abound
feel the rain on your cheeks, the stinging of your skin
home is the highland brae of which I am akin
I look down the mountainside, Loch Lomond at its best
surprisingly no monster, Nessie is at rest
time stands still here, on this beautiful hill
taking in the scenery, hearing the birds trill
Magical moments taking in the essence of time
wonderful memories of a place without grime
Scotland the brae, where they do the highland fling
When stones in sky and water silently sing.
Author notes
10, When stones in sky and water silently sing
A contest entry
- Last Lines by Keith.
450 points, ended May 4, 2008, 33 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I applaud your sentiments, though I haven't done the highland fling for a while. You've chopped a word out of the last line, but thanks for entering anyway. Here's the original by Maurice Lindsay:
STONES IN SKY AND WATER
Under the lap of water sunken stones change
their indefinable shapes. A dazzle gleams
from the roof-tops of ripples. Summer's bright-
ness peoples the loch with moveless stir that seems
to mingle height and distance. Clouds free-range,
trailing their aimless shadows. Water's peace
gets rubbed against by winds that peel off light.
But the smooth-bending forms the stones release
float upwards like cast images, to exchange
the appearance for reality and spring
fresh impulses, the flux of all delight
a moment in eternity can bring
when stones in sky and water silently sing.
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Thank Y ou
Sorry about the missed word, I have put it right,
at least I was right about the loch. What a beautiful poem by Maurice Lindsay
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