Ceòl mór

There’s a skirl in the wind tonight like a

bag being inflated, pipes being

cleared of dead air and the

crushed bones of old tunes, the

hint of a new song coming, wheezing about a

rumour of snow, hard times, a

reckless flirtation, silent suppers, an

empty purse, seed spent

stupidly, the scent of a

woman in heat on the

now-groaning air, the desire to

just jump, dive unbuoyed into that

invisible ocean of noise, that

frighteningly big music.

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Comments

  • Harper Eliot  On February 6, 2013 at 11:29 am

    So beautiful. Can’t be believe it’s taken me this long to follow your blog. You are certainly a master of words.

    (Also, this poem makes more sense if you don’t misread ‘skirl’ as ‘skirt’. But only slightly.)

    • fridayam  On February 6, 2013 at 11:37 am

      Lol, yes that poem might have had to go on the other blog;) And thank you for the praise! That’s kind:) x

  • helen chambers @lemonsbird  On February 6, 2013 at 4:42 pm

    Beautiful poem, breathing fresh airs of Scotland

  • Antoniatable  On February 6, 2013 at 5:52 pm

    I wonde if the big music you refer to is the Audible Stream, Hindu refer to as Nada? Universal sound a yogic practice is to listen to it and it comes .

  • lifethroughblueeyes  On February 6, 2013 at 6:48 pm

    ” a skirl in the wind tonight” – lovely, as is the whole piece x

  • geraldine snape  On February 7, 2013 at 4:21 pm

    love this one…great words strung together like a necklet!

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