This is a first attempt demo. I’m winging it in places. The song and lyric have developed somewhat since this was recorded. The idea. Ame from a conversation with a friend about collecting stones while we swapped stones. It developed last year walking Berneray’s beaches with Ruth.

and yes we did find hag stones and I found another on a beach on Iona on Sunday.

The view to the west

The view to the west

Goes out over rocks and water

Fish seal seaweed birds grass

The machair flowers, wild roses red and white

in the distance some houses

Flat as Benbecula is

We gather here year on year

A family of friendship and blood

Trip back through the years

Wait for the sun to set

In kinship

There is beauty outside this window

Beauty outside this door

Beauty in every corner and cranny

Beauty scattered across natures floor

And there is beauty round this table

As we sit late into the night

Sharing our news

Setting the world to rights

Or Sitting on the beach at Culla bay

Remember sunburnt childhood fun

A photograph

So long ago

Though we live disparate lives

There is a thread that brings us here

Some to fish some to to explore

All to just be

Family

This central place

Those ties that bind

Where the wild roses grow

I posted this a bit back. It was a poem I thought had potential as a song. It’s taken roughly three months and three rewrites to find a way to make all the parts work together.

Come the Summer will be the lead song in the next collection which with its paired songs reflect on what one takes with one when one travels and what one leaves behind. Recently I’ve been on the islands again, reliving the songs, waking to the sound of the waves as they break it’s been wonderful in less than a fortnight I’m back on the outer isles, the islands at the edge where the wild wild wild roses grow.

The Islands at the Edge and the Wild Roses have become such potent metaphors for me as I have travelled over the last few years. Those very special places, those very special people.

Come The Summer

As the gold of the old Grass

Gives way to the green

Spring returns

I miss you through the dark days

Islands at the edge

where wild wild

wild roses grow

Misty mountains

the narrow roads

That take us there

Take us there

To wake to the sound of

The waves as they break

An ocean’s cymbal crash

On a quiet empty shore

So much so much

Beauty

I miss you through the dark days

Islands at the edge

Where the wild wild

Wild roses grow

Where the wild roses grow

Where the wild roses grow

Come the summer

we are on the road again

Traveling

Misty mountains

the narrow roads

That take us there

Take us there

Canna Coll Tiree

Enchanted isles

Sparkling waters Silver sands

To wake to the sound of

the waves as they break

A symphony of bird song on that

Quiet empty shore

So much so much

Beauty

Come the summer

we are on the road again

Traveling

Traveling

Then my friend Alex told me of falling awake and it connected the broken threads of ideas in my notebook. The pearls

Falling awake from such a dream

To life as it becomes

Ashes of the moon

Dust in a room

A string that joins the pearls

The changes

The things one must leave behind

To let the new begin

Falling awake to such a day

I see the cherries have come to bloom

Then falling deep. Pink snow

They drift then drift away

To see you in the distance

Tho I know, I have you here

The changes

Feel like broken string

The pearls patter

Scatter, roll away across the floor

Moss and flower head fall

In the breeze, from the trees

The red the white rode

Pink chestnut, Haw

A gentle spring shower

Refreshes but doesn’t wet

Bluebells, yellow scented azalea

The trees breathe. Roses wait

To fall awake to such a day

Like water you flow over me

Flow through me

Refresh me invigorate me

Yet ashes of the moon

Turn to dust in this room

Coming and going in tides

Drawn and driven by currents

Falling awake from such a dream

To let the new begin

Called in line talking to the call handler…..

The crying lady she called again today

Still crying she said that she was there

She saw it happen and she knows who it was

But she can’t speak she’s too afraid

The crying lady she called again today

Still crying she sobs on the telephone

She says he’s a beast he’s a monster and she knows who he is

She wants to speak but she can’t say anymore

Crying lady please talk to me

Let me wipe away your tears

Crying lady please talk to me

I will hold you through your fears

The crying lady she called again today

Still crying she sobs on the telephone

She was there nearby she saw you going with him

Still crying she can’t say anymore

And alone on the street

Fear walks with the heat

For the risks that you take

In the night alone you cry

Crying lady please talk to me

Written for my dear lost friend and mermaid Sophia Dale.

Stones

In this place of stones we cast about

Overlying the land we scan

A maiden lying there a Viking kiln

A sunken ship beneath the sands

Undisturbed hardly touched by time

Where blue waters turn green

As the elements vent we nurse these dreams inside

That village over looking the bay

The bell at Bosta, Leverburgh, Berneray

And blue waters turning green

Your voice on the air waves

Your words on the page

Plans in the making

While outside storms rage

On Seaweed and sand

Down by the shore

Alone on the machair

Barefoot you ran

On into the sea to swim with the seal

Where blue waters turn green

These days I hear you in the rain

The wind thewaves

The sighing of the trees

The burbling stream

The stones that rumble on the shore

To the pull of the undertow

The big stones stand atop the hill

Laid out like a Celtic cross

An arrow pointing over the hill due south

To where the maiden lies asleep

Undisturbed hardly touched by time

Blue waters turning green

Blue water turning green

Blue water turning green

Blue water turning .................

Green

I have a new set of songs, all written within the last year. Songs that reflect on distance and closeness. Songs written while traveling the Scottish isles.

The journeys have begun again and it is I think time to share the most recent song and it partner. Unrecorded as yet but a good way to signal the start of this new year and its new adventures.

Come The Summer

As the gold of the old Grass

Gives way to the green

Winter ends spring begins

I miss you through the dark days

Islands at the edge

where wild wild

wild roses grow

To wake to the sound of

the waves as they break

An ocean’s cymbal wash

An empty quiet shore.

Come the summer

we are on the road again

Traveling

Misty mountains

the narrow roads

That take us there

So much so much

Beauty to see

so much beauty to be

So much so much

Beauty to see

so much beauty to be

Canna Coll Tiree

Enchanted isles

Sparkling waters Silver sands

An Orchestra of birds, waves, wind

I missed you through the dark days

You Islands at the edge

Where the wild wild

Wild roses grow

Come the summer

we are on the road again

Traveling

Come the summer

we are on the road again

Traveling

The Bonny Black Hair

Framed in the threshold

then a crossing

an entering

Womb like moments

I don’t remember the room

I don’t remember the room

Only you

And The Bonny black hair

The Bonny black hair

It tangles Me

as we lie

Tangles Me

as we kiss

It Tangles Me

Ties me

To you

As I leave

you

Framed in the threshold

It’s taken slightly over a year to finish and the booklets will take a bit longer to be completely with me. But…. Job done. Just in time for the first gig of the year. 😁

Of bars. It was to say the least problematic. However I like the voice.

In process.

Framed in the threshold

then a crossing

an entering

Womb like moments

I don’t remember the room

Only you

The Bonny black hair

It tangles Me

As we lie

Tangles Me

As we kiss

Tangles Me

Ties me

To you

As I leave

You

Framed in the threshold

as the drives engage

propellers bite and froth

This boat eases away from its dock

There is a fine rain falling and it mists

The distant hills

Gathering pace the ferry slips into the narrow sound

Dividing one large island from the larger island mainland

Soon there will be nothing to see but vague shadows

As we pass from Sound

To open sea.

Tired people queue

Breakfast, tea, coffee

seek seat

This early morning rise

Leads some to sleep

others read

Or brave the early morning elements

On the upper deck

Taking pictures

of the vague

the indistinct

Beautiful mysteries concealed then revealed in the dawning

we sailed out past the misty mountains

The gorse the broom

Just coming into bloom

En route

The blessed isles

the darkest chocolate brown

a dash of indigo the sea

The colour of your hair

As we sailed away

Leaving mainland behind

Passed beyond the sound

Then open sea

The ferry arrives at its destination

Drivers called to their cars

The driveway drops

we disgorge

Onto a single track track….. road

We depart.

Twisting and turning

taking in the rowan, rose

hazel, heather

Bog myrtle

blue blue electric blue water.

The plough sitting low and large in the sky. The Milky Way tracking faintly across the the dark canvas of night

And grey days need mists and fine rain for company

ravens always in pairs

the honeyed heather breeze has me dreaming of roses

Looking east towards the dawn

A golden time

It’s so strange. This is the completion of a circle a closure even. One that spirals on. The first time I went to Berneray was to visit my friend Sophia. We went out exploring the island and swam. She passed on not so long after the visit. The found things came from her big pillow case of beach finds. Daughter Ruth and wife Sukhbir came with me on that visit.

What follows started with a conversation with a friend. Ruth and I had been on Tiree (I think) and had found our first Hag stones (it could have been Harris. There have been so many island trips this year). Pip (Rachel Brown, whose work I have used in posts to substack) and I were swopping Hag stones and tales of our stone collections. I took the idea and wrote a version of the first verse and over the summer and island beaches plus Ardnamurchan campsite beach, Ruth and I explored more beaches, found drift glass, stones, feathers and more and more Hag stones. I’d been searching for Hag stones for years to no avail and suddenly I had a bag full.

And as I’ve worked on the words I’ve realised the depth and how many people went into these words, are in these words and so many years, all the way back to Ruth’s childhood. This was in fact Ruth and I’s first full summer together.

So come walk with me……..

She gathers stones on the shore

As she walks along

I pick up feathers shells

Wander miles along these edges

Massive skies endless days

Come Walk with me

At the waters edge

We Hunted drift glass

Searched the hag stone

Lost on the path

At the waters edge

The waters edge

Come walk with me

At the waters edge

Pebbles on a beach

natures worn gift

Pockets full of stone

Footprints in sand

Dogs were here

Birds at the edges

sound of the waves

As they roll themselves

Rushing up onto the shore

She gathers stones

on the shore

As she walks along

I pick up feathers shells

Wander miles along these edges

Massive skies endless days

Through the dunes

To the waters edge

The waters edge

At the waters edge

The waters edge

Sophia, at the waters edge

Hagstone folklore centers on a stone with a natural hole, believed to possess magical protective qualities. These stones, also called adder or witch stones, were used to ward off evil, curses, and nightmares. Folklore claims they can also help you see witches, fairies, or spirits by looking through the hole, or that they can break certain curses (courtesy of Google).

Spot the Hag stones.

At the closing of the celebration I had been talking about knowing less…. Last years closing was about leaving doubt behind… it’s been, it remains a very interesting thought. Knowing less is not about doubt, it involves waiting, it involves all the senses. It brings one closer to being. Ultimately it brings one face to face with oneself.

So I opened the book saw the word, wrote the poem, puzzled over it.

Then the troubling dream recurred. It’s not a night mare but it reflects a deep anxiety….. initially I thought I was just missing a Dear One I haven’t seen as often as I would have liked this passed year. But that is not the case. At its root this was about abandonment. The dream occurs shortly before we are due to meet, not when we are separated by weeks or months😁

I had just stepped out of the shadows cast in moonlight into the clarity of a beautiful sunny landscape when I chanced upon Deborah’s dream piece.

Simplicity

Isn’t the knowing

That less is more and

More leads you further

From the door

The liminal

The threshold

The step beyond

To the expansive fullness

Of being

Where

The self

Faces

The self.

The All

This space that isn’t empty fills me

Extends me.

Connection carried far beyond

The apparent end….. of

Connection

Sitting imaging how

The web of being was woven

I felt what is condense into being

But

Never disconnect

From the all

There is an apparent thinness to

This space between us

The illusion of emptiness

We are never apart from the all

Because the all is one

And all

This space that isn’t empty

Fills me

Some of the mainland travels have been to support singer/songwriter friend Maryen Cairns. This involved a trip to London and a wander down the memory lane of Brompton road. I met an old school friend, Michael S, in Brompton cemetery. For both of us it was the first time we had revisited the area since the end of the 60’s. My cousin Rachael and her Husband Darren who live in America, happened to be holidaying in Portugal and flew in for the gig. Rachael grew up in this area of London.

In this trip my friend Aiodhan Cochrane put me up and took me around. It was a pleasure to spend time with him. We first met the previous year on a trip to the Taoist holy Wudang Shan. My old martial arts teacher and friend Dan Docherty held him in the highest regard.

While in the western isles I got to play, sing and teach some tai chi chuan. I’m looking forward to repeating this process next year. Time on Benbecula the Uists and Lewis and Harris is always special, with special thanks to Greig of the Licisto Black house Campsite for his hospitality and friendship.

Orkney was a teaching, exploring and all round pleasure trip involving stones and other ancient places, wandering the streets of Stromness and sunsets in Kirkwall……. Plus pints of the very best of beers in Helgi’s. Thanks go Jim Leishman for organising the workshop and to Rhona Jenkins for her insightful trip around the ancient places.

Of the inner isles, daughter Ruth and I visited Skye, Tiree times two, Coll, Canna and Mull All running trips for Ruth. The second trip to Tiree being for a thirty five mile ultra that due to severe storm had to be shortened to thirty one miles.

The Balinoe campsite on Tiree is one of my favourite places to prepare for gigs. The kitchen/Dining/social space is my early morning rehearsal room. Sitting in the doorway of the cooking shack on Canna singing to the sea was a dream I want to repeat. We are already booked.

For some reason during this traveling time I felt I was not writing. I was wrong. What follows is the last of my island writing for this year. Observations on the world from a distance and the intimacy of water.

This year has had its moments of Danger….. Lymes disease courtesy of a north Uist tick and a ten metre tumble courtesy of a slipped Nordic walking stick. I’m very fortunate in both cases to have escaped without long term injury. Nothing encourages flow state better than immediate danger.

The very best of Samhain to all at this time of thin veils and leavings

—-—-——————————————————-

Sunset’s Song

At sunset we’ll sing sunset songs

Sit on a hillside by a fire

Watch as the day drifts away

Beyond the horizon

Beyond the shadows edge

Watch darkness spread

Beyond fires flickering

Crackling dream time story

We’ll build a bonfire of their vanities

As we sit in the gloamin

Set it a blazin

Watch the edifice crack and crumble

Tumble in flames

While we sit by the fire

Seeing the sunset on their demise

Singing sunset songs as the sunsets

—————————————————————

The silence of the water

The waves are mute

With words they cannot utter

The tides take their toll

With sentences unstructured

The sand it either slips away or

Ends washed up upon

The coastline

Ever changing

As storms pile in or drag away

The detritus of washed up days

Sea glass

Foggy from sands caressing

The storm is mute

It rages

Crashing down upon the shore

The epicentre far away

Raging to its core

the water unmoved

The storm waves passing through

Never carried away

Spilt it returns

Always settles

Mirror like

Sapphire blue to emerald green in the sun

Over sand supportive

It floats my boat

She was only small

A child sized woman

Long dark hair falling down past her waist

Then below no legs but a salmon tail

Playing in the water

Cavorting somersaults turning

The weed cutters saw you

Cried out in fear

Thrown, big stones struck home

And injured sore you sank

Beneath the waves

Oh that you could have swum to me

Child of the sea swum to me

Away from those fearful

People on the shore

But you were gone

Broken lifeless found

Washed up

Upon the sand

At the high tide mark

Amongst the weed

Oh that you could have swum to me

No shroud nor grave would find thee

Cold washed up upon the shore of Culla bay

People leading fear filled lives

Fearing all that is other

Lashing out like the monsters we can be

You were just a child just a child

Just a child of the sea

And so I come to you

And so I place a flower upon your grave

Child of the sea I weep for thee

For humanity for me

Child of the sea

I was here last year, but that was a rushed visit a few days ahead of a trip to China. This trip is about re engaging with the Hong Kong side of the family. My youngest daughter so proud of her south East Asian genetics was bringing the children over to meet with the great uncles.

It has been a beautiful easy going trip mostly in 30c heat and humidity. A beautiful steamy cooking heat.

The shadows of the summer sun

Linger on

When autumn comes around

A distant sun the nights grow long

And cold….. winter

As September rains give way to ice

October dawns in all her finery

falling flower fruit and seed

as the seasons head grows heavy

bending bough

In supplication

I watched the storm burst

Blow in across the bay.

Muting colour Draining away

Sleet cloudburst torrential rain and hail

Then Through a shaking window

I watched it blow away

And in the sunshine

Gold of the old grass

Tight to the ground

Glowing warmth in this season

The deepest crispest reddish brown

The colour of your hair

And oh how this wheel of the year has spun

From east to west to this fading of the sun

Now the leaves turn

Again

Russet