A sunny day, but cold, in these North Isles,
Where western winds will blow from shore to shore.
The only warmth is from the locals' smiles,
They've long adjusted to a life that's slower.
In loch, the shy wee otters play. Sometimes
You'll see their heads, so blunt and brown and round.
On hills and plains, the deer will feed and climb
Amidst the roads and sheep, where lambs abound.
In sky, a depth of blue I've seldom seen,
In sea and sand, a paradise on Earth,
In hills and fields, a wilder shade of green,
In human heart, a joy from birth till death.
The wild meets with the tame, and both survive
To prove to all tradition's still alive.
Author notes
I've been keeping an eye on Paul's work for a while: sometimes he asks me for critiques, and he always returns them. One thing he does exceptionally well is this kind of nature sonnet, where a single moment is described in perfect detail, with exquisite rhyme and rhythm.
The poem itself is set in Uist, one of the Outer Hebrides, a set of Islands off the North West Coast of Scotland. My mum's family come from there, and I've been up there wuite a few times. It's not an imitation of Paul, but a tribute.
Mind you, this isn't quite up to his standard yet, but I'll be sure to edit it a few times before the contest closes!
Written December 30th, 2004
A contest entry
- Contest for Kirbysman - Prewrites Allowed!! by bewareofcarrots.
300 points, ended February 7, 2005, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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Awww what a lovely poem, it seems to be such a quiet, complacent place. Plus otters are cute little critters. Good job, write on.
~Nikki -
Jo, I love so much the picture you've painted here - one day if I get back across the sea again, I hope to go here to see for myself. It's at least the second time you've captured me with words of these islands, and drawn me in their direction. Thanks so much for entering and for the kind words. And thanks for taking the time over the months to provide those insightful and very, very helpful critiques. They are so appreciated and it's so nice to know there's someone who you can count on to do that when needed. Thanks again - glad you're my friend. Paul
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I find as I read the work of others when they speak of places that so many have a common thread of thought. A love of the places they know so well. Maybe a place often visited or where they grew up, it’s all the same no matter how much the places differ. When a writer or poet can make you see and feel the place through their eyes I think the piece simply perfection.
The cold fresh air, the bright blue skies are so special to each place yet they are so familiar to us all no matter where we come from. It is hard for people outside the states to understand how we feel about the homeland of our ancestors. Though we hold no claim of knowledge of these places we do feel a fondness for them whether we have been there or not.
This poem brings that feeling closer to home. What more could a reader ask for…
Regards
Pat -
Och aye: this Wyrm is but a Sassenach
Untutored in the music o' the Glens:
His verse is vile, his rhythm slouchy-slack
And slacker still each time he sits and pens:
A cliche here, a misplaced Umlaut there -
McGonnagall himself would spin awhile:
And yet he thinks this poetry so fair
That he would come and read, and think, and smile.
It is not Burns, for sure, nor is it Keats:
But Otters does it mention, and indeed
They are the Wormy's most delightful treats,
As bright a subject as he cares to read.
Yet nothing is so vile a Calumny
As this: a good Critique from Eric Lee.
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I'm on a quest, you see...so many people I've come to know, and like, and in some cases (like yours) to love in a way, and we all have in common that we are (or try to be) poets...but never have I even looked for their poetry.
I got caught up in the banter and bickering in bulletin, and it seems I forgot that this is a poetry forum. I'm trying to remedy that.
This..."nature sonnet, where a single moment is described in perfect detail, with exquisite rhyme and rhythm"...this was a fortunate and welcome introduction to your talent and to your eye for the moment in poetry. Thank you for sharing with me that view...I do miss Scotland so!
eric -
Hey!
I know exactly what you meant about Pauls amazing job at writing sonnets, he always manages to amaze me. Thank you for entering, I know it means a lot to him.
Mal -
Nice
OTTERS! Otttterrrrrs. Mmm lovely. I think the otters were the high point of this poem, splendid creatures! My one technical criticism is small. Some of your rhymes are a bit tenuous. Also, nature's all very pleasant here, but it's a bit TOO nice for me. I'd much prefer a bit if realism, cruelty and death. Apart from that - pretty. -
loved it!!!
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What error did you see, so that I can correct it?
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Good job.
I am not sure who the author of this is, but I like it. I am partial to sonnets and write a number of them myself. Several are posted on Allpoetry.com for that matter. This is a nice pastoral poem, and I see only one error in it, which is highly unusual for this site.
Good job.
Jim Dunlap
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Hey There,
Very well done.. and quite unique too, I might add. I'm glad you included in the Author's Comments "It's not an immitation of Paul, but a tribute" because I wasn't quite sure what it was, as well-written as it is.
Great work and thanks for entering.
Becca
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