Welcome

Welcome to my blog “Photos-Poetry-Haiku”. I hope you enjoy your visit. I am an Amateur Photographer / Poet from Dumfries in beautiful South West Scotland.

Evening Sail

I enjoy Minimalist Photography, sometimes single images, sometimes multiple images on a theme. Most images here will be in colour but I’ll include black and white images too.

Dalton Old Kirk

My poems tend to be short, I’m a Scot after all and words are precious things! I also write in Scots dialect. Whether Scots is a separate language or not, I’ll leave to others, I just like to write.

The above probably explains my interest in Haiku and its associated forms. I agree with the statement that syllable and line count are not vital in contemporary English (Scots!!!) language haiku. Many writers produce fine haiku using the 5-7-5 syllable count, however, I feel that counting English syllables in this way can make the haiku too long and can loose the essential quality of the form. Haibun are prose poems that use embedded haiku to enhance the overall effect, although the haiku should be able to stand on its own without referring to the prose. Haiga combine an image with a haiku in the same relationship as the two parts of a haibun.

Anyway, enough of the arty-farty stuff. Please use the menu to navigate, I’ll add and update as I go on, I’m still new to this! Also, please feel free to comment, one of the main points of this is to connect with like minded people.

Staunin Stanes

STAUNIN STANES

Thir are those
Wha seek meanin
In the alignment 
O staunin stanes.

Wha line up
The stars an mune
An track the shaddies
Imprintit by the sun.

Thir are ithers
Wha accept a mystery
Fir whit it is,
Beyon an answer,

Perhaps it is eneuch
To staun an look
Within these places.
The stanes become

Question merks
Embedded in
The deep pages 
O the lanscape.

Sumtimes, wi can
Dig too deep,
An tapple too
Mony unknowns.

This is space eneuch
Tae leave alane,
Tae wunner an dream,
As wi search

Fir yon lane stane
We ken is oot there,
But is alwise
Jist oot o reach.
                                                                  Derek Ross

Jerhico Loch

Jerhico Loch

Small waves crackle
along the loch edge.
Small waves,
but deep enough
to douse
all those doubts
that simmer.

We are calm,
our eyes warmed
by the flicker
of sun on water,
and there!,
the flash
of a dragonfly.

Who knew?
The loch could hold
so many stars,
Who knew?
we could glimpse
the spark between
grass tip and air.

Shadowland

Shadowland

Light hides
amongst the trees,
drawing us in
to seek it out.

We step though
a shadowland,
watching the world,
flicker…flicker.

Then, there it is,
bright and clear.
a glint in the eye,                                                                                                    
a sparkle.

We have found
our way again,
The light was there
all the time.

The Blacksmith

The Blacksmith

Shadows chase across the faces
of my children. The forge is lit,
flames spit to the bellows breath.
Buried in the fire, metal melts,
soon I shall fashion                                                                                                              
another sword for Urien.

My wife cradles our youngest life,
she is troubled but hides it well.
Like her mother, she has the gift
of far-sight, claims to see visions
being played out                                                                                                                          in the dancing flames.

I have no time for such notions!
I have a King to arm, children to feed!
My hammer falls, pounds
at my growing fear.
Yesterday, she looked into the forge
and saw only fire!