Brig
In the midst o naewhar,
oan a nairrie road
through a lanesome muir,
a brig, abin a burn.
The brig cares nocht
aboot whar ye’ve bin,
nor whar yer gan,
it’s jist a crossin,
stane faced, solid,
takin ye fae yin side
tae the other,
askin fir nithin.
Aa stop haaf wey,
takin time tae gaither.
Afore me the muir, the sky,
the lang road hame.
Bridge
In the midst of nowhere,
on a narrow road
through a lonely moor,
a bridge, above a burn.
The bridge cares nothing
about where you’ve been,
nor where you’re going,
it’s just a crossing,
stone faced, solid,
taking you from one side
to the other,
asking for nothing.
I stop half way,
taking time to gather.
Before me the moor, the sky,
the long road home.
I am a photographer/ poet from Dumfries in South West Scotland. I concentrate on minimalist images and prefer using an iPhone these days. As far as my writing is concerned, I usually write short poems (some in Scots dialect), hence my interest in haiku and related forms.
Thank you for letting me know that you posted a poem to go with the photographs. I tried my best to recall your voice as I read the Scots version. (I think my memory served me pretty well in that regard.) It’s a very evocative poem, which, for me, turns on the line “taking time to gather.”
Jings! So glad you enjoyed it so much. It was a lovely wee spot up on a Scottish border moor. The debatable land they used to call it back in the day. Beautiful but with a troubled history.
"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.
"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.
Wow! The contrast of brilliant blue sky against the old stone is really striking. Kudos!
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Thanks Liz as always. I’ve put a wee poem in there now, Scots and English version 😀🏴🙏🏻
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Thank you for letting me know that you posted a poem to go with the photographs. I tried my best to recall your voice as I read the Scots version. (I think my memory served me pretty well in that regard.) It’s a very evocative poem, which, for me, turns on the line “taking time to gather.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can’t begin to tell you how much I enjoyed reading your Scots version of this poem. It’s what I call pure magic.
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Jings! So glad you enjoyed it so much. It was a lovely wee spot up on a Scottish border moor. The debatable land they used to call it back in the day. Beautiful but with a troubled history.
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