Hebridean poems

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Midnight on Lewis


Endless sky, translucent blue

fading to white where it touches

staccato blackness -

gorse, heather and broom.

The steady pounding of a hammer

breaks the silence

a lone crofter repairs his fence

in the dusk-light.

A yellow orange glow

gleams, square from the croft-house windows

Blue-grey clouds hover like dragons

motionless in the bright midnight sky.


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Sollas Cottage



Across windswept moors,

barren rocks flung carelessly

by a giant hand

fierce-looking highland cattle

block the road.


Over the crest of the hill

an old croft-house,

white-washed walls, red tin roof.

A spiral of smoke rising from the chimney.

The aroma of peat pervades the air.


Our car bumps along the grassy track

across dung-sprinkled fields

Through the rusty metal gate,

we enter the acre of rough scrub-land

that makes up the croft.


Through a cobwebbed window

in the thick stone wall

we peer into a tiny bedroom.

Flowery curtains,

age-stained wallpaper,

iron bedstead, dark oak wardrobe,

a fire burning in the grate,

vainly attempting to disperse

the all-pervading damp.


Deep within my pocket

I find a rusty key,

unlock the heavy front door, enter

the sparsely furnished kitchen.


Later I walk into the garden,

wade through unkempt grass

peer over the dry-stone wall

at the vast expanse of silver sand

Stretching for miles

across a tidal strand to a deserted island

and ruined mansion.

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Other Hebridean Poems

The first poem I posted was inspired by one of my favourite places - a tiny house in the Western Isles of Scotland. Here are some other poems based on the Outer Hebrides (where my husband's family come from).

This poem is based on the same cottage!


Holm:

Fragrant warmth - peat fire
steaming onion soup

Isolated croft-house
Pine table laid - dinner for four

Whistling kettle, cat purrs noisily
deep in fur rug - by orange fire

Rain pounded window-panes
outside - wild waves, purple sky

Groaning wind - vast green spaces
owned by ragged sheep

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The house on the edge of the ocean

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I walk down a rocky path
to the shore
stones crunching
stand where
waves
cover my feet
gaze out
into swirling grey sea
where the Hebrides
and Atlantic meet
wind blows wild
tide roams free
my spirits like shooting stars
flames of joyful emotion
home again
the house on the edge of the ocean

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