Poetry Map of Scotland no 183: Tarlair

the StAnza Blog


The old man pauses
Catches his breath,
Eyes narrowed sea-ward,
inward, timeward
Tired ears straining
To hear the song

Snatched up by the wind,
the years, the sea-flung spray
of younger days
when she ran,
bairns scooped
into the saltshock cold.

Toe-stubbing pebbles
skelped fair shins,
Head flung back
on waves of laughter,
Riding high, a Force of Nature
His life-force … she was bonny then.

Changing rooms, now boarded
Saw the tight, white
wet skin peeled
from seersucker suits,
Tangled braids
wrung out, shook loose.

A dervish wind
Mocking, blocking
The slap and flap
Of dookers flung
by jumping boys
with ruthless mirth.

At Tarlair
Characters are salted,
Tear-stung, wind-whipped
Licked clean.
Music stirs the nooks and crannies
Time forgot.

And as they gather
Down the brae,
Winding through the rocks and years,
Friends ensure
A special place
in this
Circle of embrace
And Tarlair lives again.


View original post 85 more words


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s